My bedroom, dusty and rank with teenage anger, Putting the world to rights through a cracked speaker’s static; a chorus of voices chanting in my lonely imagination, the army I lead from a mattress on the floor.
A spinning refrain, played again and again “Here you stand, my judge and jury.”
A dead mouse, a decaying spider plant, the only witnesses to these carpet-muffled pleas. We stood together, a council of the defeated, alienated.
Jaded even before the fight; “In gods they trust to hide the sins which they commit themselves.”
Sullen and restless we’ll decompose our withered leaves, settle into the dirty corners anonymous not forgotten
“We’re legion.”
Written well after the fact for the GloProWriMo Day Sixteen prompt: try writing a poem that imposes a particular song on a place. Describe the interaction between the place and the music using references to a plant and, if possible, incorporate a quotation – bonus points for using a piece of everyday, overheard language.
As an angsty teenager, awkwardly looking at the constant depravity of the world, I latched on to anthems that united me with others, even if only in bedrooms across Britain. One such song that resonated with me was Theatre of Hate’s Legion, which I had bought (saving mum’s lunch money) on a 7″. My old dodgy record player had a method of allowing repeat plays of the record on the turntable, and so it was that one day I played this song 59 times in a row. I’m not sure why I never got to 60. My dirty, dusty bedroom housed myself, a tragic spider plant and a mouse that soon suffocated among all the incense smoke used to cover up the smell of cigarette smoke. It was a typically pathetic teenager’s bedroom. But I was convinced I was not alone and I was convinced that I was right.
We held hands, sweaty palms But that didn’t stop our walk We circled the lake three times Lost in the nonsense of our talk
Nervous about our steps We never looked at each other’s eyes We left unsaid many thoughts For other times to realise
Could this time go on forever? We’ll live it over until our ends Remember that time at the lake When we became best of friends?
Our external searching and perpetual information hunting (and hoarding) are all ways of avoiding an answer disguised as earnestly searching for the answer.
Thomas J Bevan
Today I’m feeling: am: tired pm: happy Today I’m grateful for: Brian Walsby, his art and Manchild books which I’m almost finished reading having owned them for about 10 years already. We seem to have gone through a lot of similar experiences in our formative years. I guess a lot of us into punk in the early 80s all did in some way or other. The best thing about today was: Overcoming my tiredness in the morning and ending up really enjoying the day. Classes went well and I felt as if I was really connecting with some of the students. Daily thought Are we still the same as our 14-year-old selves? I think we all carry forward parts of our youthful follies despite wisdom received since but we cannot be the same. Some of that wisdom pays off. How would you design the city of the future? Damn, don’t let me do that. I would employ someone who knew what the hell they were doing! This question though reminds me of the ideas of Jacque Fresco who seemed to conceive of better ways for cities to be organised.
I took this picture because it’s nice when Tangmo wants to come and play for a bit. He doesn’t play so much now, he’s not a teenager anymore I suppose. I’ve been forgetting to look out for photo opportunities these last few days and this one is from a couple of weeks ago.
1994ever 