A poem on the division of people in the UK

The Elite flies fast in helicopters
across the busy city of London;
in the streets below, the peasants are
labouring, earning pittance for their rents:
The landlord will be calling soon
to collect the arrears.

At the dinner table, full of food and riches,
laden with delicatessen and fine wines
at the property developers’ homes.
But for others it is the past sell-by date isle
in the local supermarket, trying to save
the few pennies.

The politicians appease the masses with
populist policies and assure us all
that we caused the debt and owe.
But it is the rich that benefit, where
the poor have to pay up:
Victoriana has returned!