Working Class Generation Poem by Jan Oskar Hansen

The Lost and Forgotten

Working Class Generation.

We who left school in 1968 without

Honours and degrees, had dreams when

We filled factories and building sites

With youthful laughter which soon

Stopped when run over by the juggernaut

Of life, marriage and a high rise flat.

Later when work dried up, no skills no

Education and too old for a new job,

Divorce, queuing at the dole a flight

Into booze, walking the streets of rue,

Fuck it all and waiting for tomorrow.

Lady of Mercy, only one dream left,

That of coming up on the pool, quid’s

In, a round of drinks for the mates in

The pub and self-respect; we know it

Won’t happen but dream we must, or

Be flotsam in streets of regrets where

It’s always gloomy and eyes have lost

The sheen of hope.

***

Camouflaged in gray and white poem by Linda Straub

——————————————————————————–

Camouflaged in gray and white,
she lay amongst mismatched gloves.
Two mittens stroked pawing fingers,
until the warmth of a friend
seemed more important
than the thrill of a sleigh ride.

***

Sit in a Cubicle Poem by David Michael Jackson

VE VURK ‘TIL VE DROP
can we civilize the salamander
make him
sit in a cubicle
for eight hours
exactly
The animals don’t stand for any of that crap
my dog knows what is important
it is important to sniff at that bush
I
on the other hand
have trouble with
the importance of things
and other people
like me who
don’t allow themselves time to sniff
the air for
anything really
important
really
other people like me
don’t have time for that bush
unless
it is landscaped into our orderly little lives like
the trees in our yard which are
planted just so
and
made to look just so
like
that
was
important
but
my dog knows what is important
and I,
we
unfortunately
have
forgotten

– David Jackson

***