When is a union,
not a union?
When is one nation,
not one nation?
We’ll keep you in name only,
We don’t want your voice in the chamber,
Here’s a new poem I did in honour of the great Palace of Westminster, the ‘mother of parliaments.’
Spires, towers of stone, a fortress of thought,
Once a palace for monarchs, a palace it is still,
but feasts are long in the past, now a palace of the people’s will.
Parliament, a place to speak, to debate,
A place to question, for answers seek,
to speak truth to power no matter how great,
To open your ears to your constituents lobby and petition,
The solid stone, the portcullis should not insulate.
Unchanging facade concealing constant renewal,
It’s all so easy to be overcome by these towers that soar,
Before this symbol, this mother of parliaments and stand in awe.
Do not be swayed by the glamour of stone palaces,
Your mouth staying still,
Remember this is a palace of the people’s will.