68 Grafton Street 1977

seventeen years old


68 Grafton Street 1977

 

We took acid

Saw things

We stumbled across 

Hull university

Fields

With reds and yellows

Blues and glowing

Things floating

In our heads

So funny

We laughed

And called and yelled

And danced

And pretended

We were famous

Musicians

 

And we went home

We became a football team

And kicked the ball in

The living room

Where we did

Everything

Knee deep in 

takeaway wrapping

And roaches of

Every kind

Record cover stained

“Never Mind The Bollocks”

Cannabis

The ball went through 

the window

“Taffy you Welsh bastard”

We huddled

In deception

And plots.

 

 

 

Then tomorrow

We called the

landlord-enemy

And said kids had

Kicked a ball

Through our window.

Through the window

Of the landlord-enemy.

And the landlord-enemy

Said upon 

Deliberation…

Why is the glass

Laying outside?

We were clever

But not smart.

And the enemy won again.

 

© Mentalelf 2021
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Stormwolf

Haha, I enjoyed the mahem and chaos of the poem. The mischief and the devilment. The short lines work well here.
The clouding of judgement when stoned, to forget about the glass.
You must have been a very naughty boy indeed. 😉
Alison x

Bhi

Another gem from your pen!

The frying pan resonates. We used to fill jam jars with a little oil and leave them grouped on the floor, the sink, the table, and in the morning we would be treated to the sight of oily mice giving up the ghost. Cruel days!

Dodgem

Having spent the seventies stoned I can relate – sort of; we had an old house in Sydney with a bastard landlord who worked for IBM. Anyway, another stream of consciousness, which I enjoyed – did you do the art work?

Dodgem

Me and friends ‘rented’ an old house in Crows Nest, we had regular parties – not knowing half the people who turned up. Big lounge for dancing, front bedroom for smoking, egg sandwiches at 4:00 a.m. We had to turn the volume down after the second police visit. Ah, where have the salad days gone?

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