Deadly desires pass me by
I saw too many deadly sins
Kill too many young people, poor people.
Sometimes, anger will explode in me
Or love will blossom in me?
Sometimes it's deadly boredom does the damage
All those scurrying into bolt holes
Away from Covid and life. 
Holier-than-thous who'd wear a dozen masks, if asked.
I leave the masques to the dramatists.
Do you want to drive us to a bloody resolution?
There's enough blood in my cheeks to avoid tragedy
The stabbing stitch of envy passes me by,
Vanity or egotism evade us northern English
Mostly our passions are of a different order of magnitude.
Saxon DNA predominates here: rugby, soccer and beer.
We all hanker after a newer better life
We  want to feel proud of ourselves
But all the time we're kicked in the teeth
Because we're not black or female or disabled or gay
Being poor, desperate, dying early, doesn't qualify
us for sympathy or empathy. We leant that in 84.  
I want to feel the sweet sting of the bitter love of country 
and rest for a while on the flattering carpets of flatterers.
I want to feel how exploitation makes my brain work harder
Most of all, I want to spit at the self-satisfied middle class
Who hide away and waste their time so unprofitably. 
Excessiveness grips me and speaks of the just. 
Deadly sins do you covet me?
Can you still work with me?