He's An Anti-Semite: A British Poem
How could this have happened?
How did he get the knife?
Who handed him the knife
across the counter?
Who paid for it?
Who paid the price?
He had mental health issues.
Well, he's fucking crazy, so that's hardly representative.
He's an anti-semite.
He's in a hate group.
He said he'd never hurt a person, just those fucking-
He's the victim of a foreign war,
a refugee;
a migrant;
brown:
they're sexist over there, they scare our women on the street; they're homophobic too, they can't come here and murder all the fags
before we do.
Uncivilsed,
dirty,
Brown.
They're coming over here and killing all our Jews.
They've got mental health issues.
I wonder how they got them.
I wonder where, I wonder when.
I wonder which bombs dropped
on which head.
I wonder who sent it, I wonder who fired
whose gun?
Whose gun?
Whose gun was that?
Whose knife?
He's an anti-semite.
He hates those fucking ikes.
I don't mind them.
Really,
I don't mind Tel Aviv.
Nice beach,
nice people,
nice white people.
Well, white-ish.
Won't hold that against them.
Nice fences too.
Not quite picket, but
the metal, in the sunlight, shines
so bright,
I mean you properly have to
squint.
Can't see what's behind.
Never really tried.