Can’t bring back


They couldn’t bring themselves
to a higher way of life
Like stair steps whether coming up
or going down
Up-down – like some leg exercise
in mental gymnastics

Holding still – to some meditation ideas
from early new age-ism
Now long abandoned
apart from a cursory glance
of acknowledgement
from time to time,
maybe when a news item
made a reference to such.

Still settled though – on old vinyl records
and memory reels of the swinging decade
Residues of long hair and flower shirts
Beads and on-shoulder braces
Bell-bottoms buried in closets –
too tight by now

Still leaning though – on elbows
and perusing old books
of Carnaby street ‘followers of fashion’
You can’t stick a dart through
these old things
to freeze your life into the past

“Who are these ancients?”
the younger do ask
The last generation – two back from here
Life for them would never disappear
Held up in heroic contemplation
But gone – long gone –
fold away your reminiscences
and retire to the lounge…

You won’t bring this back –
It’s not around
‘Cause time has moved on
to harder times
Even with eclectic mixes
And so forth and so on
All must accept – memories
don’t bring things back
So best to have perpetuity
pressing towards
the mark
for the prize of the high call…


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