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I Hearken back to the old rule nazis how Deputy Fuhrer Hart led assembly - with his bell, megaphone and monobrow it was more like a Hitler Youth Rally! And Commandant Lomas, old Purple Haze, the Grand Inquisitor in my school days II The bells of Rangitoto ring once more for all you inmates of its cellblock walls, when we did our time and prison greys wore and in rows sat its desks and filled its halls. Across the room of aged fraternal clones are raw epic tales of raging hormones III To meet again my accidental peers who bare the soul to fleeting youth salvage, who, post the rage of corduroys and flares, covet the old glories that time ravage. Well hey! Before this night’s out I’m thinking “prep the bowl…it’s time for a bogwashing” IV Yet forgotten names in a guestbook scrolled alas are not spared life’s mortal complaints, and for every life story that was told I cheered for the lepers and not the saints. Some met with a smile and some I pass by - a “class of” roll call of past alumni V With long memories in brief accordance I longed for uniformed delinquency, when bating those of foolish importance eclipsed the pursuit of knowledge in me. For each scoundrel, vamp, truant, and jackass to you I filled and gladly raised my glass VI My magnetic petty crimes returned forth when fingers did in my direction point, yet my compass follows its own true north and I stepped outside to smoke a fat joint! But still in the spin of webs and true lies with old friend and crush I did fraternise VII In her spell on the tangled vine I sought its forbidden fruit and bittersweet wine - I learnt that which truly cannot be taught has a beckoning smile and lips devine. And in flames and arrows that pierced my heart burned a boy’s desire a long age apart VIII O breathless kiss that does a lifetime keep and broken hearts conned by expectations, the salutary lessons that cut so deep quickly learning of our limitations. What was once the rich coloured cloth of youth is now the faded and frayed weave of truth IX The roll call of thirteen years continues and ends where the Lord of the Flies began. Who among you would that time again choose and who stands before me a better man? Not one of you roused me to greater heights but agreed, some did rouse in your gym tights X I have drank largely a sailor's measure, bested my threshold for futile disguise - now I will carry on at my leisure and leave you all to your own wild surmise. For this group hug, if I am to be frank, is nothing but a sentimental wank! Written: November 1990 Note: pic is of my 6th Form class 1977. That’s me middle of middle row.
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