Our lives seem to be governed.
Is this ' fate '
When I grew up there were
Always the leaders and followers,
And the tiny group of ' different ' students.
Why did most of us leave learning at sixteen?
Get a job we wanted and started our lives
Why did some go to university?
And come back wise, untainted by our lives.
And come back they did, as lawyers, doctors and accountants
Snobbery ingrained, and friends forgotten
Was this the start of the class system,
All those years ago?
I was labelled ' different 'because of my thoughts and
Early love of books and poetry
Difference I embraced eagerly, fueled by
Ginsberg, Kerouac, Tom Wolfe, the engine
Of the beat generation.
All these years and the wise ones
Still will not talk, much to my good humour
Maybe that was the start of life
Or the curse of 'class '
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem