Ideas are born through analysis and reflections
from stagnant pools where life began
cool greens, old branches and dead twigs
with new growth sprouting.

Incandescent holiness fuelled by fancy and vanity
inconsolable weeping stars visible even to the blind
obscured by bitter contaminating clouds
constipated by ignorance and dishonesty.

My life began sometime after the big bang
and the appearance of man
able to think, imagine and plan but unable to understand
his inability to invent his own salvation.

We lived at 21 Turner Street on a corner (near a church)
Mum, Pop, me and a tiny scruffy terrier called Spider
with an aunt just up the street a bit
all subjects of his majesty King George V of England.

Grey patched bitumen with kerbs and unkempt nature strips
adorned with tatty date palms lined with telegraph poles
stretching between rows of hedged front gardens
adjoining houses with backyards hidden behind high fences.

The skies each night deprived of light
dull nondescript shadows merging moodily
despairing of each vacuous moment
rotating around an indifferent sun.

Unto me a brother was born
an alien perhaps with a stranger’s d n a
or so it eventually appeared to me
as our personalities clashed with increasing velocity.

Teddy Bear and Golliwog were antidotes to loneliness
both substitutes for the love of an unknown god
we importuned with grace at meal times
over cutlery, serviette rings and a tablecloth.

I learned about fear at kindergarten at an old church hall
in a spooky chamber with a curtained alcove
where I was not to look behind or I would see
the holy ghost before I died.

We had a ginger cat named Bunty
and a Scottie called Sam
who chased Bunty until she stopped abruptly
disconcerting Sam who turned and ran.

Sam was a wanderer who finally lost his bearings
living until we moved to Bickleigh Vale
where one hot day he was left to die
near our backyard sandpit tormented by flies.

My parent’s friends were feted and respected
unless rejected resented and replaced
expediently and expeditiously
but our neighbours were anonymous strangers.

I sometimes played, feuded and socialised
with our neighbour’s children across the street
and we regularly visited our grandparents
after the ritual midday Sunday roast.

My education at Peate Avenue Primary
began disastrously for me
when my mother kept me back a year
so my brother and I could be together.

I wasted my time playing alone
on the scrapheap for a wasted year
wrestling with my obnoxious brother
with a father who didn’t care.

Gravity and the theory of relativity bound us together
dutifully fulfilling our familial responsibilities
religiously revisiting divers relatives
from spinster aunts to a homosexual uncle.

Programmed to pray to God and Jesus
believing my devotions would be heard and answered
somewhere in heaven above
as substitutes for Teddy Bear and Teddy Gollywog.

King George V died and the Duke abdicated
followed by the coronation of King George V1
Neville Chamberlain appealed for peace and lost
Winston Churchill became Prime Minister.

World War 2 began like an unwelcome dream
a nightmare for many
which we watched on Movietone News
or listened to on the radio.

Pop was hosing our roof to cool the house
when our paling fence caught alight
then hosed away the flames that sweltering day
of summer bushfires and loss of life in 1939.

I resumed my interrupted and ignominious education
at a utilitarian redbrick and drab asphalt institution
inwardly shy and introverted but pretending otherwise
fearful of appearing different.

Mustered by a bugler and marched to classes
to the rattling rhythm of kettle drums
welcomed by our brutal headmaster
who wielded the strap with sadistic abandon.

Nearing puberty, sexually ambivalent and naive
interested more in boys, uncomfortable with girls
relegated to the row of dunces
delegated as yard cleaner and ink monitor.

Away from class our days were regimented
with tunnel ball, competitive sports and marching contests
at which I was either incompetent or out of step
yet was possessed with a gift to indefinitely float.

In the yard we played marbles and cherry bobs
hoppo-bumpo, ‘land’ and spun our tops
bought pies and pasties, devoured cut lunches
or were entertained by budding actors beneath a tree.

Involved in a confrontation about nothing much
both too timid to throw a punch
though pushed and urged we stood like statues
stoically shaping up until saved by the bell.

I had a broken tooth, inefficiently capped
and as a result was cruelly teased
but by imagining I could fight
my self-esteem was somewhat appeased.

In my final years I rode a bike
with socks to warm my hands in winter
which I parked in a classmate’s garage
on my way to school each day.

Our holidays were spent in various ways
usually by the sea, sometimes in the countryside
aloof when staying at guest houses – never hotels
or alone when staying in rented homes.

At the beach I was taught to swim by my uncle
sunbathed, burned red and peeled
searched rock pools for mussels and crabs
and read my favorite comics on the beach or lawn.

With pillow cases attached to our beds
we’d lie awake each Christmas eve
before dozing off
to awaken early and gleefully inspect the booty.