Boomers And Believers Poem by jim hogg

No, youth is really no excuse!
For youth is sunlight, youth is verve.
Life's obstacles were only tools
for demonstrating endless strength.

Or so it seemed for quite a while,
as I was hunting whale like dreams,
and even then that harpoon line
was whizzing through the air for me.

There was no glory crouched in wait,
nor any I'd have valued then.
The simplest learning comes so late.
Those dreams were nebulous at best.

And hopes, I must have had a few.
But not for wealth or privilege,
or even means to raise the view.
I think I lacked a cutting edge.

My elbows weren't hard enough
to put myself before the crowd -
the boomers who went hustling up,
in tune with all they'd disavowed,

and found out who they really were.
But being poor was no defeat,
until my children needed help.
The game had changed and my ideals

were suddenly a handicap.
Though all the same I should have known.
The sixties were a false alarm.
The right was always headed home:

the signs were ominous for years;
since Wilson couldn't hold the line.
Divide and rule still wins the field.
The centre keeps on drifting right.

And yes I should have been prepared,
no matter how the runes are read.
Instead of making do today.
I should have planned ahead instead.

And now it's done. I got it wrong,
and welcome guilt won't pay the bills.
Nor are there answers in remorse,
or crying over milk that's spilled.

The rains and reins of poverty
teach many lessons as they lash.
The old discover empathy;
the young the kind of shame that lasts.