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Magic Years
December 2015

A poem about being a teenager in the 1960s, politically incorrect and seen through teenage male eyes.

Read at the Puzzle Poets 1 February 2016

Philip Larkin famously
Said sex began in 63.
Alas I missed the opening day -
I guess I was, though sad to say,
A bit too young to turn that page...
Though now it's almost any age.

Still the memories come flooding back
Of the days before cocaine and crack.
When binge-drunk girls were never seen
And AIDS were pics in a magazine
Intended for the naturists
But read by lads with itchy wrists.

The memories of all your peers
Bursting with their hopes and fears:
Sallow youths festooned with acne,
Cor blimey girls with roots in Hackney
Who dreamed of wealthy city slickers...
The boys just hoped they'd drop their knickers.

Cinema was king back then
The 1960's - remember when
You fumbled in the far back row
Wondering just how far she'd go;
Panicked as the lights went on
Then filed out of the Odeon
Trying to hide all indication
Of premature ejaculation.

For every tough and toxic lad
There'd always be one more who had
Yet more testosterone, bravado,
Balls the size of an avocado.
This fearsome youth was no-one's fool:
He thought his moped made him cool,
Till mods and rockers joined the ring
With even bigger balls to swing.

Remember when the train played host
To the annual sojourn on the coast
To live it up under the aegis
Of the Butlins camp at Bognor Regis,
Downing pints of crappy beers:
Red Barrel? Double Diamond? Cheers!
Did holiday romance await?
Well, in your dreams, at any rate.

World affairs slid quietly past:
Politics? we can't be arsed!
Sod the Cuban missile crisis
We're more concerned with penis sizes,
Obsessing over football teams,
Fulfilling all those warm wet dreams,
And fondling the pert young bums
Of our little sisters' sexy chums;
"Oh come on, a little squeeze won't kill ya!"
Nowadays that's paedophilia.

The memories come thick and fast
From the years that all too soon had passed:
Sawdust in the public bar
Playing the Stones on air guitar.
Seven-inch singles scratched to bits,
Teenage girls showing off their.... wits.
Always seeking forbidden fruit,
Dripping with Brylcreem and Brut.
In clapped-out Fords with missing gears
Heavy petting... magic years.