A poem in the old poetry book, (in praise of the social.)

 
Tasting wild blackberries,
defending the oak against the machine,
the miners cat has seen;
she signed my autograph.
 
A late summers day at Worthy farm 1970,
the fool as if as a dreaming pool;
milking the cows,
for the muse and the rule,
love each other,
play the Unicorn blues;
a milky way of shining stars.
 
Nobody feels the way I do about you,
come on you lot,
before the sea floods
and the giro becomes Robin Hood,
 
Is this the last dance before the great war?

 
Talking to a farmer,
about the hope of the day,
Mick Farren;
as gentle as Worthy,
on a summers day.
 
and you who hoped for this all year,
gone all fear.

 
 
A man stands naked from the waist down,
in a hole in the time fabric continuum,
in wellie boots,
a multi coloured jumper,
beads made of planets,

"aceed aceed"

 
a new world culture,
windmills in the fields,
not soldiers but festival freaks;

don't look back in anger,
love me do,
wonders how you managed to make ends meet?

~

Photograph, me at the Glastonbury festival 1987.

In memory of Dave Holmes.