It's Only Dangerous If They Tell Your Dad Poem by Jean Bernard Parr

Along the shingle from where
I throw stones and sit
a bandage unravels that are Dover Cliffs
and that faint line across the sea
is another country that shines,
the one that politicians on tv
slily forked into memorys'party bag
and to the peoples sweetheart
behind the desk, they fed a script
"the country is a patient
needing intensive care and can't be fixed
unless we rid ourselves of foreign things"

I'm glad these cliffs are white and strong
they will be here
when smirking men in suits are gone
with a hiss, without fuss, these waves
thump the beach to emphasise a point
the same old message
that goes on and on

There is a playful kitten in my head
whose careless claws rip the veil
and so its here we go again;
same old photograph
same old wide street, sunlit,
deserted but for one black car
that comes for me as I race across
and that's how I lived
my racing heart pumping from risk to risk

but let's not over-dramatise
stealing toy soldiers from Woolworths
is only dangerous if they tell your dad
then you're as good as dead
and fear pulses out of you
like a radio wave
I was never made to be brave
I know that under torture
I would sing like a canary
not spit and hiss "stuff you! "
like you see in movies

will they let me go
or dump me on that empty road?
there ahead looms the one black car
liquorice black
I'm old now and a scaredycat
no risks, no falls
no dares, no balls
I reef my sail at the slightest puff
curse at stuff on tv
anything a boundary that is not me

with conjurer's wiles
and the gatecrasher's will
they have hollowed out the ground
the world now is wormwood light
and all that's heard is eggshell thin
there is no time left to learn
so go out children, make a din
go out children, let no-one in