Rebel Without a Clue
By Ewan
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What will happen, I wonder
when there are no dangerous boys?
Girls will be safe, saved by the bell:
though time called on Harvey
is time called on Jimmy Dean,
the bike-shed smokers
or the biker boys
and fairground lads.
Vaping’s not smoking,
“blokes” aren’t woke,
no joke.
Risk and reward?
Gloves off;
no love - no lurve,
no mistah luvva luvva,
don’t call me fantastic,
call me safe
in taxidermy.
We get it.
We’ve abused our position.
It’s all our fault,
but you know,
no has always been NO!
Except for
the board-room bad guys,
who have never seen
a motor bike,
the bike shed
or the waltzers.
Footnote: I know Jimmy was gay.
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Comments
I always had a thing for the
I always had a thing for the bad boys, especially those leather clad bikers from the early 60s who would hang around fairgrounds and leave us school girls swooning.
Your poem bought back memories of a biker lad called Snowy who had pure blonde hair and helped out at the fair, he knew he was handsome and could get all the girls, but I wasn't one of them thankfully, although at the time I wish I had been.
Jenny.
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It's the posh boys who are
It's the posh boys who are truly bad and not in a good way.
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