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Surveying the Wreckage
Surveying the Wreckage
Surveying the Wreckage
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Surveying the Wreckage

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Prelude to Gotterdammerung; we are now entering the golden age of madness;
Considering the gathering storm and wondering who will deliver us from it, gods and heroes being posted missing again.
Everyone comes to feel that they are living through the end of days; eventually, though, it will be true. And, as we run out of rail on our single track to better, perhaps it will fall to us to achieve this final and dubious distinction.
This is my jeremiad. And finishing with this trope, I turn my gaze towards the rose-coloured dawn and the paths to better worlds, which I think lie just over the hill.

LanguageEnglish
PublisherGlenn Telfer
Release dateFeb 6, 2016
ISBN9781310099649
Surveying the Wreckage
Author

Glenn Telfer

I am now almost fully grown, being born in 1956 in working-class Glasgow, Scotland (from Kinning Park, Dennistoun and Ibrox, if you’re asking). The hammer and tongs, coal-powered world I grew up in is as gone as Troy, and with it the industrial working class that served it. What seemed so solid and forever, disappeared almost overnight and is rapidly becoming unknowable except through people like me. The hasty departure of a way of life and its replacement by globalized uncertainty is both the background to my life and the raw material of my art. Considering what’s gone, what’s here, what’s yet to come is what I’m about; itemising the bill of life through my writing. Other poets have explored this too, but none are as like the poet as he is himself. This is my special qualification. Imagine being able to write a book? Even when I was a wee boy throwing stones and playing street football I wanted to be a writer. And all the while I thought I was living my life backwards and sideways I was actually tracing a Celtic knotwork to here. Whatever the reason for this want, this writing may be the cure. May be is also maybe not.

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    Book preview

    Surveying the Wreckage - Glenn Telfer

    Mama Weer All Krazee Now

    On entering the golden age of madness.

    Triangulating

    Admittedly I’m there too

    so obviously no heavy judgement

    is implied on fellow café culturistas,

    but I am seriously bemused

    by this group of frighteningly civilised,

    ten pounds overweight at ten,

    boys enjoying mochas and muffin

    swapping texts and sharing

    a tablet (no, not that sort of tablet)

    that keeps them up to date in their

    world utterly at home with the sofas

    and the toasted Bucheron ciabattas.

    Seeing one ordering another mixed

    round of coffees and smoothies

    with pleasant authority at the counter

    I see my pals, ten pounds underweight

    at ten, spotted from the landing windae,

    with the same naturalness as if too

    standing at a coffee shop counter,

    rake the midgie bins for swadgers

    having just been told by Dougie’s mum,

    He’s oot, Son. He’s been oot since seven.

    And then myself here now, as the third

    vertice in a triangle beyond understanding.

    Instructions and Safety Advice

    On opening the packet

    I discover instructions

    my 50+ years’ apprenticeship

    no longer a sufficient

    knowledge base.

    And there are safety issues too

    as the world of danger extends

    to bedding and sleeping apparel

    stay clear of naked flames

    advice illustrated by a cartoon

    of a flaming torch figure

    with arms-as they would be-aloft.

    Avoid Nylon Bed-sheets! Which

    I presume-it does not say-refers

    to the build-up of static electricity

    turning the victim to a living

    van de Graf generator inevitably

    discharging around the marriage zone,

    likely resulting in more flames

    as absurd meets its match

    in the bedroom

    which it always did, but never before

    with pyjamas.

    Now we only need irony

    to make the scene complete

    although this has never

    been in short supply

    when the light goes off.

    as I’ve always supplied my own.

    So I’ve been told.

    Now in HD

    moving fearlessly among us

    talking to their faces

    but always talking making

    the deal keeping mates up

    to date preventing silence

    which would not be silence

    for them inside where it is

    noisy as the visitors room

    on visitors day where the

    the promise of lessons

    in bad language is fulfilled

    as they duck between warrants

    ...regretfully admits to consuming a lot of alcohol and drugs

    and convenient loss of memory ...on the day in question, M’lord

    although not loss of self esteem

    one thing that their education

    alas succeeded in imparting

    while boasting about blow-jobs

    on Youtube and breaking

    the quiet of night with shrieks

    and revels, and misery for all

    everywhere noise in their radius

    only one more noise needed

    and the choice to be made

    for the force continuum;

    verbal warning-taser-baton-gun,

    or

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