The Spike [or Victoria University College Review 1961]
The people are forever pushing the past
On to our so young selves
Throwing experience's entitlement at our faces
Yet their experience grows stale and discontented
In middle class ruts
Rotten and untruthful in bourgeois decay.
Our places are under the ledge
Beneath the lip of adults mouths
Tolerantly and intolerantly drowned
With when we were young and
Your immaturity is personified in your face
But then ironically from their mouths.
Perhaps the hurdle is surmounted or even
A water jump left behind
But still age's pride
(Pride is a sin)
Retreats behind stubborn mountains and
Always the past's dusty regurgitations.
N. W. Bilbrough