I GREW UP IN THE UK VOL 2

i grew up in the uk
water out a standpipe
& the ladybird storm

& the national anthem broadcast
every evening at closedown

i grew up in the uk
windsor weddings on tv

their cartel crockery
ubiquitous & mandatory


~


i grew up in the uk
rolf harris all over tv

drawing cartoon kangeroos
making all the kids happy

remember he sang two little boys
on stage at glastonbury ?


~

& we had cod wars back then
& an oil crisis
that made for thin elvis vinyl

now cod wars are only pending
theres another oil crisis
& elvis vinyl is now fat as the king

FRI A.M. POPLINGS

THOSE WERE THE DAYS

blair & bush

sexy dossiers

a redo war 

fuck times
inevitable
rosy glow



VICARIOUS MUCH

listen up you loser children

i
shared
the
world
with
elvis

TV ME

its
a 
blessing

& 
a curse

to be ill
in the days
of
netflix & pill

now-
i think i speak swedish

now-
i am never ever going
into any french woods

now-
second season sadness
&
menu hell

from telegraph.co.uk

DAMBUSTERS NATION MULTIPOPS 4

king arthur 
danced to blurred lines

  in a 
  no-smoking 
  pvc
  bus stop

~


them krays was lovely boys

       two world wars
    
   and one pot of tea 
       ta ma

~

  michael caine 
got a postumus asbo for zulu
  community service 
in liverpool
      1955

~

st george 
   sold pork in palestine

he came here once
   like elvis 

from chroniclelive.co.uk

CHANGE, ELVIS AND WHATEVER

from en.wikipedia.org

So i'm reading an Updike. 
Its like a small town soap but with insight into the weird architecture of human relations / reactions, told with a poetry of description; he paints such a world of constant colour and wonder that i should not have mentioned soaps in the same sentence at all.
So in it theres this guy.  
Its the 1950s.  He sits down on his wifes hospital bed and watches a tv show after falling a coin into the slot.  The show has women talking of woes / tragedies and money is awarded depending on the crowds applause. 

And that could be tv now; something we'd think is new.

So i listened to a Hancocks Half Hour.  Always good.
Him and Sid are moaning.  
Theres all these Italian coffee shops moving in.  Things are changing.  Things arent the same.  That sort of moan.  This is the 1950s.

And this happens now;  Costa, Starbucks, Nero.  A glut of brown stink in the high street avenue.

So i found this local paper.  
Under a plant plot.  From 1983.  Folks are worried about new builds on the green belt.  A sheds been burgled.  All the tools taken.  Dorothy whatever is 101. 

Its the same news as now.

Population, now that changes.  Technology, now that changes.

So war monuments say 'so they shall not be forgotten' and they are not. 
They also say 'so history shall not be repeated'.  But it is.

And too, the Tory Goblins are back painting targets on the regulars Joes. Same as when i was a 70s kid and goths did glue in the subway under Sex Pistols graffiti. 

Goths.  
Goths prevail.  
And so does Punk.

Makes me think of Elvis.  Elvis thrashed it up with self taught chords.  In black eyeliner.  And later, in black leather.  It was the 1950s.

Obviously i have lost my thread - conclude whatever for yourselves.

 

from elvisblog.net

ELVIS

sit out in the air of the world
out
in
the
same recycled / rearranged
  elaborate
  carbon
  dance 
the same lazy rust and star dust
  that
  Elvis 
  sat 
  out 
  in 
on a Tupelo porch 1954

from elvispresleymusic.com.au