So it took me a while to come up with a name for this, my latest literary misadventure. The first title I thought of is the name of this post, which references the stupidity of Middle America, the Braves of the North American Indians - for whom I have the utmost respect, both for their tradition and their enlightened aspect - and the crest of my Grandfather's club. It also represents some of the best days of my youth, spent falling off BMX's, summed up best in a song used in the first Jackass movie, 'If You're Gonna Be Dumb, You Gotta Be Tough', by Roger Alan Wade.
Having visited my Gramp's old haunt, The Savage Club, yesterday, and met all his old cronies for lunch and a talk by the magician Roy Davenport, I wrote a poem on the train on the way back. It's not supposed to be dour, although my Grandad was often a very foreboding character. More of a celebration that things are happening in my life, for me, right now, and and a remembrance that I will love the old boy forever, despite him being a terrible cheat at board games. It being his Birthday today, I feel it's fitting I should make this my first post on this new blog, in his honour.
The doors close, your carriage slides off,
in the rain,
it's your turn, the dice fall, in my favour,
again,
the sheen on life's tracks,
tastes metallic, in my veins,
the pills bite, but mean I'm bi-winning,
still sane,
come-down or sun-up,
the light shines,
in my brain,
only now, that I'm older,
finding pleasure, in pain,
the ones that we miss, live life on,
through their names,
we remember their faces,
though it's dust, they became.
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