JUUNANA Sigh (©June 2017 John T. Windle/Vaudeville John)
Just another sucking day,
remembering when
we looked forward to Fridays.
17 years old, spotty and bold;
waiting for your favourite
track upon the juke box
and then we hit the sprung boards;
goths, greboes and skin'eads
on the dance floors.
Footwear and haircuts,
simplicities.
Never had anything to fear
except the townies.
Pubs turned blind eyes to I.D.
Snakebite and black ,
Doctor Marten rocked the party.
uppers and sixteenths,
we were free.
"What do you like?" She asked.
Umm...hmm...I said "I'm into Indie".
Hitching up to see yer band,
stage diving or catching knobheads when they land.
Mosh pits meant something,
a passage of sorts,
elbowing and grinning
and hoping for a consort
and then possible journey home,
an after party
or a freezing night on your own.
Skint on a park bench
or under a bush
or making it back late
for mother to
greet you with a: "Shhush!"
"You'll wake your father
and the family.
In the top oven I saved
some of tonight's tea.
You have a good time?
It's half past three!"
She understood
music was a therapy,
senseless shyness
solved by solidarity.
SOLO
Alternatives, our stories.
Facts got muddled
and we took very few selfies.
Vinyl tomes taught history
it's your future,
fashion a picture,
rough up your destiny
and never trust a hippy.
(©2017 John T. Windle/Vaudeville John)
Just another sucking day,
remembering when
we looked forward to Fridays.
17 years old, spotty and bold;
waiting for your favourite
track upon the juke box
and then we hit the sprung boards;
goths, greboes and skin'eads
on the dance floors.
Footwear and haircuts,
simplicities.
Never had anything to fear
except the townies.
Pubs turned blind eyes to I.D.
Snakebite and black ,
Doctor Marten rocked the party.
uppers and sixteenths,
we were free.
"What do you like?" She asked.
Umm...hmm...I said "I'm into Indie".
Hitching up to see yer band,
stage diving or catching knobheads when they land.
Mosh pits meant something,
a passage of sorts,
elbowing and grinning
and hoping for a consort
and then possible journey home,
an after party
or a freezing night on your own.
Skint on a park bench
or under a bush
or making it back late
for mother to
greet you with a: "Shhush!"
"You'll wake your father
and the family.
In the top oven I saved
some of tonight's tea.
You have a good time?
It's half past three!"
She understood
music was a therapy,
senseless shyness
solved by solidarity.
SOLO
Alternatives, our stories.
Facts got muddled
and we took very few selfies.
Vinyl tomes taught history
it's your future,
fashion a picture,
rough up your destiny
and never trust a hippy.
(©2017 John T. Windle/Vaudeville John)
