Just as I think
Just as I think
I understand the meaning of reality
Something happens to make me wonder.
Leather jackets were always a thing,
Marlon Brando,
Before he was Superman’s dad
And somebody else’s Godfather,
Wore one,
With a wicked sailor’s cap.
Perhaps
There is something dangerous
In the way he looked
Which appealed to the wild ones
But then I read about
A chapter of the Hell’s Angels
Being arrested in California
Charged with a whole host
Of gang-related criminality
And
Yes
Some of them will have worn
Denim jackets
With the sleeves cut off
But most would have owned leathers.
And I am glad I don’t.
It is as much as I can do to imagine a baby farm
With wild crying
As the moon goes full
Perhaps the howl I hear
Is not America
But an essential part
Of the developmental process,
Synchronicity.
Do they actually grow babies from the egg
Planting the fertilised embryos
In a grow bag?
Which came first
The need to farm out
The process of conception
Or the shell corporation
To launder the profits?
Is the whole washing the money thing
A symbol
Much like Pontious Pilate.
Not that I understand the ins and outs
Of criminal behaviour,
They all get caught
In the end
Don’t they?
Unless you are well-healed
Steal from the poor
And keep one step removed
From the sharp end.
Hell’s Angels are not my role models
Easy Rider was not a documentary
Everybody died in the last reel
Even the report in the Guardian
(I never read the New York Times
Or the London Times for that matter)
Suggests the righteousness
Of the arrests.
Guilt by association.
I’m glad I don’t belong to any.
I belong to the British Psychological Society.
Even though Maggie Thatcher
Eschewed the very existence of society
I can see value
In forming connections
With people of a similar disposition.
Perhaps I am doing
The Hell’s Angels a disservice
They are not all Satan’s entourage
Perhaps some, new age bikers, love their mothers,
Make all their own clothes
From leftover design classics
Whilst taking their share
Of the child-rearing responsibilities,
Strap newborns onto the pillion
Or wear a papoose across the chest
With diddy little customised
Bobble top crash helmets
Sanitised paniers
For the nappies (diapers, cripers)
I am not at all sure
How it came to this but
Sometimes words have a life of their own
And in reality,
There is always more to a person
Than a movie stereotype.