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Have a look inside my pocket
Have a look behind my tie
Have a rummage in my socket
Have a squiny in my eye
Take a butchers at my purse
Take my C drive in for cleaning
Lift the lid upon my hearse
Parse my very hidden meaning
Let your fingers, cold and damp,
Sneak beneath my bathing towel
Trim the wick inside my lamp
Reach inside my lungs, my bowel
Help me live without the threats
Help me never make an error
Help me tag and chip my pets
Help me win the war on terror
Scan my soul and scan my disk
Make my algorithm straight
Give my dreams a rinse and frisk
Be my perfect caliphate
Here they are, my wallet, keys
My passwords and my passport too
My flesh and bone, my memories
I know that they are safe with you
It is meet that I comply
Let your experts drain my pores
Let me wave my rights goodbye
I’m a Charlie. I am yours
Click here for a Guardian article
Click here to buy a copy of Bill’s poetry collection Ringers
Click here for Bill’s New Statesman research project
