Youth Of Today

Entry by: macdonald

19th February 2016
Youth Of Today

I can still see that boy of eighteen,
Freshly liberated from childhood’s tethers,
Ungilded but shiny-limbed, bright-eyed
And brim-full of youth’s magic fuel.
Thrusting onward, his hot passions into a future,
With gushing hormones the only tyranny
As he begins the heroes journey.

First person was his point of view,
A present tense of rising action,
Girls the hook and threads, supporting characters
All friends, some of whom he had yet to meet.
Time, a cheery companion by his side,
Showing not telling, the narrative arc.
The unspoken sub-plot that hidden, ticking clock.

But deaf anyway, to every anthem
Or testament of those who had gone before.
False prophets of reversal and complications,
Unacknowledged, rushing past
The what-if’s and paths untaken
To reach his dramatic need, a climax;
Passing on the genetic baton.

I’ve played every part since then,
Even this clichéd denouement,
A stereotype of lean and slippered pantaloon,
Adrift on a stage of overloaded cognitive delirium,
A trivial celebrity dystopia screened live.
This clownish muddle, all plotlines unresolved,
Petering out, awaiting only its unwritten epilogue.

And every scene is strained revision,
Filtered through memory’s plastic sieve,
My epic reduced to anecdote.
Blood slowed, passion long spent now
On pensions and bowel movements, tomorrow’s weather.
But I still dream, and of that time
When I played the youth of today.
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