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I am me

I have always been the one who was different; unafraid
I guess that is just the way some of us are made,
I have walked tall, whilst many fell behind
While all my beliefs stand firm inside my mind
You label me bohemian, but I am an earth child
I belong to the universe, I run free and wild
I dance naked with nature, flowers in my hair
It doesn't even bother me when people stop to stare
I am one with the earth, I am naked I am free

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One delicious hour
Bare toes in the too long lawn
Words of wisdom gather dust on shelves
Washing moulders
While the bare line tenses in the breeze
Dinner fumes in the tins
Seethes in the freezer
Windows blink through cataracts of grime
While I tilt my face to be buttered by the sun
And wine chills my glass to a cold sweat
Make shapes of the clouds, a bearded man, a sheep?
Buzzy bees bumble
Watch an avian soap opera
Tune in to the squabbles and declarations of undying love
In the trees and verges

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everyday rebellion

Institutional Education

“Stupid people” Craig said, as he sat in the driving seat of my driving school car. This was one of my favourite sayings.

“Why do you say that?”

“I was walking down the school corridor on my way out for my lesson, when the Head master walks out and stands in front of me, ‘where are you going’ he asks me’, ‘going for a driving lesson’ I tell him. ‘You are not allowed to go for a driving lesson during school time, I am here to stop you leaving, you will have to call him and cancel it’.

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Làmh ri Glèidheadh / Hand to Hold

Làmh ri Glèidheadh

Tha cuimhne leam an là
chum thu mo làmh na do làimh-s’,
’s sinn air coiseachd an àrd-shràid
bhon fhlat agam dhan bhaile.

Thuirt thu air an là sin: “’S dòch’
gur sinn an fheadhainn neartmhor,
oir ma chì ògannach gèidh sinn,
chì e gu bheil e ceart gu leòr.”

“OK”, ars mise, dòchasach,
gun cumadh tu i an comhnaidh,
ach cha do chum thu riamh a-rithist i,
is chum thu do làmhan-sa nad phoca.

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Little Cyclone

For those who stayed in Belgium, Groupthink kept the peace;
Collective see nothings, hear nothings, do nothings. 
A passive acceptance of German aggression,
Sharp instruments of Nazi collaboration.  

Brussels refused to conform; a lonely rebel, 
She resisted unrecognised authority, 
Flew invisible flags of rebellion, stretched out
A Comet Line of thousands on to France or Spain 

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resistance, WW2, solidarity

Living Dissection

Eat with your mouth wide open / future child // Laugh and let your spit dribble to the floor via your chin and your bib // Find the blue food colouring / pour it into the mashed potatoes when the adults are not looking // Kit out Action Man with fabulous cherry red high heels and a tiara // Say you are reading for school / listen to metal in your bedroom all day / full blast with the headphones blocking out the world at the door // Shoehorn the most vulgar Cannibal Corpse song titles into your homework // Drop spectacularly out after the first year of your engineering degree // Tell your Di

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Mibbees Aye

I’ve niver thought o’ masel as bein any kind o’ rebel an I canny mind o’ a time when I rebelled against anythin. Mibbee I’m a wee bit “thrawn” as ma mither used tae say but then she always hud a front fur folk. Dinny be yoursel, behave, dinny show me up!  Repression wis her byword. Like when I wanted ma ears pierced when I was forteen an ma mither prattled on aboot “if the Lord meant you tae huv holes in your ears you’d be born wi them” and mair nonsense aboot it makin you look cheap.

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Miss Myatt, Rebel Teacher

This is the story of how one of the worst ever students became a teacher.

On my teaching course – my PGCE in Nottingham – I felt like the odd one out. I was the kid who’d been the naughty one, always in detention. I was surrounded by trainee teachers who’d been Good. However, I believed my somewhat shady background would make me a good teacher. And it did.

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My Rebel

It was standing up for myself for the first time. It was sneaking two cakes into my friend’s bag in the lunch line instead of one. It was staying at the park that little bit later past my curfew, to enjoy the sunshine and smell of sun-tan lotion during long summer holidays. It was ‘backies’ on bikes and rollerblading down hills, even though it was dangerous.

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for Gwendolyn Brooks

We's at uni
then the brew
see they Macjobs
we's missed the queue
we's do Ees
wit do wur heid
pushin' forty
we's aw deid

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