Rebel rebel (time for a punk revival)

On my mind

Oh to be weird.
Hold on, wait. I am weird.
Weirder than most.
I love to be different and David Bowie’s Rebel Rebel was made for me.
When everyone ticks I tack.
It makes me feel slightly smug (and I’m smug about being smug – how meta).
But the funny thing these days is that, yes, everyone wants to be different but, CRUCIALLY, they want to be the same.
To carve their own path, but belong.
To each be a unique little snowflake, but part of the storm.

Maybe it’s always been this way?
(Not that I’m that different really. What a hypocrite.)
And Android cottoned onto this with their ads.
Apple too.
And the biggest joke about Apple is they like to persuade us all that we’re individuals owning their products, yet EVERYONE has a sodding iphone.
Anyway, I digress.

So where does that leave us?
I mean, are there any true mavericks left these days? Those auteurs and visionaries.
Because we should face up to the fact that David Bowie’s death, if we’re frank, left us with an almighty void to fill.
And with the world going somewhat down the crapper and Britain splitting from Europe and Trump building walls around America… the need for mavericks and rebels in 2017 could not be greater.

We need a punk revival.

(For society I mean. Globally. Or at least in the UK and USA).
I mean, going punk is exactly what craft beer brand Brewdog did.
They looked at the stuffy real ale market and shook it until all the crusty old guys fell out.
Trouble is… they became a victim of their own success.
How do you stay a punk when you’re now the mainstream?
That’s the rub. 
And as we know, many rebels eventually hang up their six shooters and put down their guitars and assorted weapons and call it a day.
Resigned to sit in a comfy chair by the fire with a sherry ready for an early night.
It’s inevitable.

But there’s always new blood coming through, right? Right?!
I’m talking about the young firebrands, the future deviants, the intensely passionate leaders and charismatic and cocky outsiders who like to look at the world differently.
THAT’S WHAT WE NEED.
And, honestly, I am drawn to these people like a moth to a flame.
Anyone that likes to disrupt and cause chaos.

Simply put: they’re cool. 
It’s basically where life starts to get interesting, right?

So that’s what’s on my mind.
Rebellion.
Disruption.
Destruction.
It’s time to tear down barriers and scrap rules and let’s all just stop squabbling over stupid things like borders and religion and race and class and creed and all that stuff.
Otherwise we’ll never get off this planet.
Because, let’s face it, there have GOT to be more enlightened civilisations out there in the universe right?
It can’t just be us.
So maybe rebels can be our salvation.
I just hope they get the message, wherever they may be.
And remember folks, David Bowie ain’t dead. He just went home.

The freaks come out

Poetry

You’re a freak it’s official.
I mean honestly, if you weren’t around would anyone actually miss you?
Freaking people out with your peculiar ways.
You’ve got an unsettling cheek the way you gaze.
But you’re not phased.
You hit up social settings like you’re lost in a maze.
Your movements odd, like a drunken daze.
Gears grinding your brain you never cease to amaze.

But I confess, I’m a freak too.
Maybe we should be freaky geeks together?
We’ve really got no excuse.
Hitting the town dressed in our weird finery.
Me with a trimmed beard like a hipster wannabe.
You the trickster, so bizarre even you believe.
We’ll sweep through clubs like a freaky disease.
Submitting to our desires, wants and needs.

But… we leave room to breathe.
To be ourselves.
There’s no point getting our freak on if we can’t raise hell.
Pretty soon, others join us.
Our numbers grow.
And so our weird, wondrous wave begins to flow.
People want us to leave and say we’ve got to go.
‘Cos we make them itchy and get under their skin.
But we just grin and take it on the chin.
Nothing can touch us.
We might be weird but we’re a blunderbuss.
A gilt-edged battering ram.
We refuse to be gone with a ‘wham bam, thank you ma’am’.

Still… the battle rages on.
Freaks versus normals, we’ll not rest ’till the job’s done.
Some say our crusade is selfish.
But we say if the cap fits, wear it.
There’s no way we can just grin and bear it, this state of affairs.
There must be a place for us in society.
If not you’ll start to see cracks and tears.
Because, normals, like it or not, you need us freaks.
What we offer you, we have to say, well, it’s unique.
‘Cos if we were gone you’d feel dismay.
We’re colour and without us you’re simply just set to grey.