Is this England, where the tea, the pot?

The living haunt the dead with screaming eyes
Natural ,murder, war or suicide
Epidemics,plagues, the double crossed
The cemeteries would have been surpassed
Reduced to ash, the bodies once caressed
Disappear in flames, a Candlemass
We linger on the borders ,loth to move
Every cell with grieving is imbued.
The knock on the front door, the English  park
The victims of the knife, the once blessed hearts
Is this England, where the tea, the pot?
All our old civilities forgot
No home fire burning coal  with leaping flames
Boilers burning gas to heat our homes
Remind us of the dead, the Jews and Gays
Gypsies, backward children, where the graves?
In the end all selfhood gone, removed
No individual plot, no flowers ,headstones
No flesh, no eyes, not even just one bone
Haunt your cemetery if you must
The sun shines on the evil and the just

What’s so funny?


Eating your own eggs is not allowed in this cafe
Beach:rescuers will be persecuted
Old people, please die slowly in town
Please fall off another cliff.This is too low.
What is a mortal tin?
Stop paying in the Cathedral
Please dye your hair before breakfast as drips may cause offence 
The village green is brown
We are short of torture.Do not take a bath till you are going home
Does God have a mouth?
Draughts expected, no  recent pain
Please contrive  well on main road
Cognitive  homework for teens  banned
No taps should run in this motel
En suites in C major
Do read music if able
Do not gnaw your own bare hands.We have gravy