Britain was great.
That’s what I was taught.
But now we know better don’t we?
Change, change change; our worst enemy.
It’s our ruin, that and progress – terror

increases and so do human rights leases.
As I watch the Indian sunset, we vote ‘out.’
‘Brexit means Brexit’ – fear brings anger,
anger brings hate – hate brings suffering –
How can people still say we’re great?

We finger point, we fight, we brawl.
We talk without reason but we have choices.
We must pool our voices and stand as one
people, one nation – it’s one future. Migrants
are needed; they bind this land together – now

and forever, pulling the lever of change. Don’t
cast them out, catapulting Britain into a dystopia
that hasn’t been seen since World War Two.
If we continue on our road of fear and intolerance,
Air Strip One will become a reality, Winston Smith too.

Once tyrannical Empire-builders but now
we must choose to love, to live and get out
of our own way – lead the hate away into the
horizon of the night time crimson dusk because
tomorrow is not promised.

A poem by Tré Ventour