challenging convention

A Moment Of Glad

Though baptised first name Dilys
Was called my middle name, Jane.
Dolls were not my friend
Teddy bear and rabbit my game.
Sugar and Spice were not my thing
But slugs and snails and puppy dogs tails.
Moles in traps, to my bed
Fleas and disease my parents dread.
Time and tide moved on
Muddied knees clean
Wild and free remained my dream.
Headmaster at school, who thrashed a lad
Cos he lifted my skirt, in a moment of glad.
He preached on a Sunday
About the Lords Love
The rebel in me was fed by his glove.

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Rebel against power
Rebel against the mass
choose your own way of being
give the rules a pass

Rebel against convention
go against the status quo
Follow your instincts
give your own way a go

Conventions and traditions
are questioned by the young
start a rebellion
change how things are done

We don’t all need to follow
how things were done before
we can fight for what we want
and question the law

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The Rebel-drive

She might not have eaten that food she was told not to. But she did. And she shared.

We might accept the ultimate heat-death of the universe. Instead, we keep lighting more fires

Some look at ‘how it’s always been’, thinking ‘It’ll be good for a while yet’. A few scream ‘Boring!’

He could go with the flow of the river. Or stand firm and, shuffle crab-wise, get to the other bank.

The seed should realise it can’t grow through tarmac. Instead, it grows a little more.

Thumbs might easily have followed the other four fingers. Instead, they opposed.

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