Demontage

Edith Bowman asked me to write a poem to sum up the end of the festival season and i came up with this

Demontage (cos french titles to poems sound so much cooler than english ones)

Modern life if crazed
Full of madness and rage
So much man and woman needs to escape
This daily chaos and be free from it all
At one of this nations great Festivals
& learn to unwind
let go
Get grounded
Relax
Sleep under the stars or light a fire perhaps
Become one with the planet and your fellow man
And for that there’s nawt better than a festival
But now in mid September it’s back to the grindstone
Pack up the tent; it’s time to go
To leave these green fields and to head for home
By bus by bike by car and by train
Summer is over and here comes the rain
And the hail the sleet and the sadness of snow
Pack up the tent
It’s time to go home
Lets leave these fields and this tented town
Where songs were sung and spirits were high
And children learned to float and fly
And softly slowly leave the ground
Whipped up by the magical musical sounds
So lets leave this field this nylon town
From where clowns and captains cooks and thieves
Drank lager whilst bouncing on trampolines
And danced with mermaids maidens and goffs
Pack up your tent it’s time to get off
To head for the real world
The mad world
The sad world
The bad world
The blag world
Where cars will crash and children will fall
And adverts will tell you can’t have it all
So far from this field and this town of stalls
Of burgers and baps vegetarian wraps
On plastic plates and pints and mates
And the midnight debates of who was great
And who was ace
Then chat about the bands the theatre the art
Then pack up the tent cos it’s time to depart
And patiently smiling join the queue
Where the four by four will start bullying you
Soon gone the smiles of friendship and warmth
Cos it’s man against man when sat your car
And remind yourself how to clenching a tight fist
Cos the div in the porsche is taking the pmick
Slowly slithering and sliding in front of you
So lets pack up the tents and learn how to queue
And forget the true words of the troubadours
Who peddle their words to heal all their sore?
The sadness and sorrow life’s daily grind
So lets pack up the tents and get your minds realign
To the madness the chaos of our crazy lives
Lets pack up the tents cos we need to survive
Another cold winter of slow discontent
So lets pack all our bags and take down the tent.

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