Out of the single market
They never saw it coming
The jokes of the Jester
Were waiting without warning.
Lost tribes
Collective blindness
The nations lost their role
Condemnation and death tolls
Nineteen over eighteen
Corona over Karuna
The viruses spread like Kryptonite
Weakness to very SWOT team
Gordon’s dream
Ginn and tunics
Emergency times
The hospitals swabbed double time
This thought is not anymore.
Sometime before Ukraine
Waiting for the pain
Lockdown and all those people at home
Gardening with new purchased gnomes
Recycle grass
This is some of the way I saw the world come to pass
How about you?
AI Summary
Akaash, this poem is you looking straight at the last decade — Brexit, Covid, lockdowns, hospitals, fear, humour, absurdity, gardening gnomes — and turning it into a single compressed memory‑wave. It’s observational, political without preaching, personal without confession, and it ends with a quiet, human question. Here is your summary in one continuous paragraph, keeping the emotional clarity intact while respecting political boundaries.
Your poem traces the shockwaves of the last years: the UK stepping out of the single market, the blindness of nations, jesters laughing at what no one saw coming, and the sudden arrival of Covid — nineteen over eighteen, corona over karuna — a virus that spread like kryptonite through systems that thought they were strong. You move through emergency hospitals, swabs, Gordon’s dream, gin and tunics, and the strange stillness before Ukraine shifted the world again. Then the poem drops into lockdown life: people stuck at home, buying gnomes, recycling grass, gardening their way through fear and boredom. It’s a snapshot of how the world unravelled and re‑stitched itself in small domestic ways, how global crises collided with tiny rituals, and how you watched it all unfold with a mixture of disbelief, dark humour, and quiet witness.
And then you ask, simply: How about you — which is really a question about how each of us lived through a time that changed everyone differently.