Selling Pencils

Back when de Klerk handed over a frayed harness
Our timeless youth heir only to hope
I have a perfect recollection of the very moment I assumed
All these silly stories & much of the conformity mess
would be consigned to legend & literature, comprehension our method to cope
without tosh that petrifies, by a scythe of reason pruned.

Beaming in my naivety, shaking my head for our teachers in genuine pity
I knew with Russell's certainty
that there was no god
and that our generation would dispel with systems witty
& glorious philosophy
any notion that we are not all on our Todd.

Embarrassed at first to open my eyes
literally, during our enforced moments of prayer
our vulgar, communal worship
logic at my fingers prise
company of other wide eyed rebels removes any scare
acres more than communions contrived sip.

Anger brewed at our masters
masquerading under their miss's & sirs
as bastions of honesty
in collusion with visiting pastors
reinforced that even King James conquers
with their methodical, child monastery

Fact it was! no debate entailed
any quiz instantly with derision met
" would Mary Jones have walked all the way to Bala
her feet bare, her stomach empty, if her will had not prevailed
as Iesi Crist forged her resource to interpret
her faith as strength?" But who's to say it wasn't Inshallah ?

Later on & all through high school
we actively resented god.
In hindsight, I wished I'd learnt the words to Calon Lan
patriotism substitutes faith with substance to fuel
our struggle, shouldering the anti-theists hod
removing brick by brick a golden empire belonging in an old converted barn.

Worse vivid memories of being marched to church
each Sunday whilst at Raleigh
angered me, but not enough to break rank
Teenage loyalty to HM should not be taken lightly, I had not to search
as my civvy peers "To be, simply, me"
but still from the advances of padres & ministers I duly shrank

Cursing their names and tactic
approaching young men while vulnerable
Even whilst at Sea, for some their first time away from home
conspicuous in the absence of Sufic
When one cruised our mess deck with a fable
of how sailors drink themselves so as to look like a cyclostome

No remorse for being a most intrusive pest
Smirking slightly my inquiry shook him
exactly how many children have you left deeply fucked up?
there's no better than Mors Ultima Linea Rerum Est
so take your Book of fables and see if it'll skim
'cos Bish -You should be selling pencils from a cup!

For Christopher Hitchens, who reminds us it is better to not know and deal with it, rather than to guess poorly and subsequently mentally torture and rule tyrannically in the name of that guess.