TOP BLOODY SECRET

 Another poem that was enhanced by the wise comments of the Secret Poets. You can read the earlier version here.

TOP SECRET

a synapse sparks unbidden

sets the memory unrolling

and I am back in the 70s

an apprentice working with a fitter

old enough to be my father

he’s telling me about his national service

“I spent two years on an airbase in Yorkshire

guarding Vulcan bombers

and me a time served tradesmen

fully indentured

but the RAF needed security

for the new super weapon

it wasn’t a bad billet

and the sergeant told me that

no one enters that hanger

not even your grey haired old mother God bless her

because it’s top bloody secret that’s why

I’ll have your bloody balls on toast

if you bloody defy me

and it wasn’t a bad billet

save for that time in February

when I should have been at the dance with my girl

pulled the short one that night I can tell you

this one pip rocks up all received pronunciation

straight out of Sandhurst demanded I move aside

that I let him into the hanger and that is an order

looked down his nose at me

his face getting redder and redder

and then it was get out of my way

by God I’ll have you on a charge

so I moved aside and when his back was turned

I hit him with the butt of my revolver

did I mention we were armed

anyway the officer went down like a sack of spuds

and there was hell to pay

I barely escaped a glass house holiday

never knew what became of that officer

never saw a Vulcan either only on the telly

years and years later”

he threw his dog end away

it had stopped raining

so we left the shelter of the pipe bridge

and went back to whatever we were doing before the rain

They did not like the title. Thought it a little abstract. Nor did they like the enjambment. To be honest, reading it aloud in our meeting, neither did I. I think it is a better poem for all that but I am not sure it's completely there yet. It's going into the drawer for a little time. 

I leave you with Natalie Merchant live in 2014.

Until next time.