You seem to think I ought to give a fuck
what some limp-wristed Guardian-reading ponce
has been programmed to think and sneer and cluck
about the bigotry that he so achingly wants
to find in some cold corner of my brain.
But I am not some forelock-tugging minion.
Perhaps I need to one more time explain:
I spit and piss and shit on your opinion.
I will not grace your sneers with a response.
Keep shouting “Racist!” till you burst a vein.
It doesn’t pierce my heart. I do not judge
myself according to your smug, absurd,
guilt-ridden standards. I will never budge.
And every bourgeois liberal is a turd.
