Tonight i sat amongst the television screen watching the days images repeat as the flotilla passed in salute to the Queen on the murky Thames River, all the familiar London sights came across, as the cameras panned through the crowd,drifting beyond to the sky line. As the orangeade canopy opened up, i was away with the fairies the clattering cogs inside my head drifted back to the sliver Jubilee during 1977....i was perhaps 22 years old..other gates doors window then mushroomed..was i here there or impossible..i cannot remember one thing about that year,not what i ate, drank, or if i had sex with an elephant..perhaps it was simply a wasted year and simply my vanity tonight is playing tricks amongst the rain drops clattering my window as darkness creeps in..that time when alone is simply alone more than the clinging stance of throwing poo-sticks into the wind.
Sunday 3rd June 2012.
Tonight i sat amongst the television screen watching the days images repeat as the flotilla passed in salute to the Queen on the murky Thames River, all the familiar London sights came across, as the cameras panned through the crowd,drifting beyond to the sky line. As the orangeade canopy opened up, i was away with the fairies the clattering cogs inside my head drifted back to the sliver Jubilee during 1977....i was perhaps 22 years old..other gates doors window then mushroomed..was i here there or impossible..i cannot remember one thing about that year,not what i ate, drank, or if i had sex with an elephant..perhaps it was simply a wasted year and simply my vanity tonight is playing tricks amongst the rain drops clattering my window as darkness creeps in..that time when alone is simply alone more than the clinging stance of throwing poo-sticks into the wind.
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