Austerity – Vincent Edward Manda

What austerity?
How am I to cut my spending
When the bills keep on rising?

They never quit flying upward
Like angels returning to heaven

While my wages remain stagnant
Like demons who’ve found respite
From the hell hounds
And rest easy
On God’s earthly Kingdom.

Or worse still
My pay plummets
Like demons kicking and screaming
Headed down, back home to hell

While inflation soars
High up above
As the beautiful nightingale does
Singing his taunting springy song
While sending his shit down
On the top of my head
And onto my face
Dripping into my eyes,
Blinding me till I can see no more
Which way is out.

And during this time
The premier whispers into my ear
And sends subliminal messages to my closed eyes

The papers tell me
That King Cameron;
Decked in lively purple robes,
Bejeweled chains, time keepers and Prada suits,

Preaches of austerity;

He forbids me my tiny pleasures,
From atop a gold throne.

What austerity?
What austerity can he find sat on gold?

I guess, in our beloved king Cameron’s mind,
Austerity for the already austere
Is mighty fine…


his name rhymes with ‘mince’. He’s rarely without a notebook and can usually be found next to the closest bottle of red wine. Previously a writer for The Roehampton Lane Journal.

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