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