dead end street .. .
There’s a crack up in the ceiling
and the kitchen sink is leaking’
~ Ray Davies
.. .. ..
the day closed
when we ran out of path
down by the cherry orchard
reading Chekov
Sibelius, Mondigliani
keepers of bees and hunny
psychotherapy philosophy
the books of R.D.Laing
write what you know
not what you think
Frankie Shaeffer tells the truth
kicks up humanistic stink
different points of view
intellectuals in Bermondsey
or some such other place
Forest Hill when we hung out
the Old Kent Road, Notting Hill
Camden Town, Islington
Shepherd’s Bush – proles live
like struggling insects
who joined an honest queue
for bread or maybe to live better
but when were we free
or ever could we be
when things go wrong
sadistic leaders rise
Nazi Germany in around ’33
possibly a clichê
Timothy Leary, Uri Gagarin
the ultimate Mata Hari
names where I grew up
in another country
francs and lira, japanese yen
do ya’ ken John Peel
or are you Arthur Scargill
when socialism was a thing
the British pound plummets
which is colloquial, metaphoric
not Shakespeare in the park
deja-vu – a new synchronicity
hyper-pseudo sensitivity
are you animal, fish or whore
some people fair
far better at deception
Sally-ann around on Fridays
we had never had it so good
taught to think of others
Biafrans as our brothers
bitter beer, sardines on toast
no queers or untold sadness
faith slightly infinitesimal
psycosomatically brittle
then came Billy Butlin
coca cola and the bingo
no one seemed to notice me
nor ever heard the springs go
Tommy Steele, his smile
Joe Brown and his bruvvers’
mother’s little helpers
Cathy’s up the junction
cockneyed optimism
where did it come from
and when did it depart
on the horse or in the cart
can you feel the rythm
of the four-piece drum
use a plectrum or a thumb
we were all so young
plastic mac wonder
the labour exchange
coffee-table nostalgia
stole our cul-de-sac thunder
©edenbraytoday07.08.2023
About edenbray
I am a writer ... a beat poet who began writing poetry way back in 1966 ... 'edenbray is born ugly, wet, covered in blood, mucous & bodily functions, the effluence of my short life' ... I recently published my 1st solo Anthology - the best of 60 years writing - previously I ran my own Art Supplies Store for 40 yrs before I became a full-time writer I am a Blogger who has posted 1,000 poems - available in 24 themed booklets ... please ask for details + leave a 'like' or a comment for my encouragement, thank you so much for listening - I truly value your opinion on my work ~ in fact I literally survive on your creative input ~ edenbray
DEAD END STREET .. .
dead end street .. .
There’s a crack up in the ceiling
and the kitchen sink is leaking’
~ Ray Davies
.. .. ..
the day closed
when we ran out of path
down by the cherry orchard
reading Chekov
Sibelius, Mondigliani
keepers of bees and hunny
psychotherapy philosophy
the books of R.D.Laing
write what you know
not what you think
Frankie Shaeffer tells the truth
kicks up humanistic stink
different points of view
intellectuals in Bermondsey
or some such other place
Forest Hill when we hung out
the Old Kent Road, Notting Hill
Camden Town, Islington
Shepherd’s Bush – proles live
like struggling insects
who joined an honest queue
for bread or maybe to live better
but when were we free
or ever could we be
when things go wrong
sadistic leaders rise
Nazi Germany in around ’33
possibly a clichê
Timothy Leary, Uri Gagarin
the ultimate Mata Hari
names where I grew up
in another country
francs and lira, japanese yen
do ya’ ken John Peel
or are you Arthur Scargill
when socialism was a thing
the British pound plummets
which is colloquial, metaphoric
not Shakespeare in the park
deja-vu – a new synchronicity
hyper-pseudo sensitivity
are you animal, fish or whore
some people fair
far better at deception
Sally-ann around on Fridays
we had never had it so good
taught to think of others
Biafrans as our brothers
bitter beer, sardines on toast
no queers or untold sadness
faith slightly infinitesimal
psycosomatically brittle
then came Billy Butlin
coca cola and the bingo
no one seemed to notice me
nor ever heard the springs go
Tommy Steele, his smile
Joe Brown and his bruvvers’
mother’s little helpers
Cathy’s up the junction
cockneyed optimism
where did it come from
and when did it depart
on the horse or in the cart
can you feel the rythm
of the four-piece drum
use a plectrum or a thumb
we were all so young
plastic mac wonder
the labour exchange
coffee-table nostalgia
stole our cul-de-sac thunder
©edenbraytoday07.08.2023
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About edenbray
I am a writer ... a beat poet who began writing poetry way back in 1966 ... 'edenbray is born ugly, wet, covered in blood, mucous & bodily functions, the effluence of my short life' ... I recently published my 1st solo Anthology - the best of 60 years writing - previously I ran my own Art Supplies Store for 40 yrs before I became a full-time writer I am a Blogger who has posted 1,000 poems - available in 24 themed booklets ... please ask for details + leave a 'like' or a comment for my encouragement, thank you so much for listening - I truly value your opinion on my work ~ in fact I literally survive on your creative input ~ edenbray