The Golden Hour

This is a poem depicting the social ideology behind adolescence. Each stanza pertains a different defect of youth; physical, intellectual, emotional and social.

This is the time of day

The murmurs of weathered morning light

Water-balloon, denounce themselves

Onto the mountain range,

Acne soldiered skin

Pink chin, epileptic, 

White foam rush. The ding-dong

Of +1, a resounding echo, knee-jerk

Reflex, intuition burrows like a mole

To rush the electric push, a modern pulse.

I-I-I shudder and break, a static mistake

The Adam's apple does the most humanity

Considerable, kills the talk,

The little tuppence I give for you

Gardened like a weather-seed.

The hasty pages knotted like a daisy chain

The big, blank forehead that is wrinkled

Like a sore throat, and we weep, weep, weep

For the little sleep, the anxious natter 

That distils our cloudy grey;

The sullen gay, in a sharp, damp space

Elbows, knifing the knitted sweat of

Coat-hangers, a fragment of the Truth

A hoarse spectator of what is coming to get you,

A black-and-white man frozen in your lungs.

If you are lucky, you will have two

And sit on the chalk line, get up,

Bum wadded pastel, just to see the interlock,

The forbidden clock, ticking like an arrest 

In their singing, silly chest, a brilliant bash

The shrill, cheap shriek of the flying beast

In the sky, will live in the place waste is shat

Through pipe-organ-tubes; to fill the sharp, hollow

Famine of living in the mountains -- a warm, yellow incense

For the days, the haze, the living Hell of matter.

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[Beccy]

Believe me, it gets better. :)


Beccy