It’s as clear to me as it can be

The parents pass their manner to the children

It’s a bright as day, as much to say,

The children pass the manner to their children

Bewildering!

School cannot break into this prison yard

School does not touch this rule of passing-on

School’s no prefiguration; a string vest, veneer,

School is an education for the teachers, clear

A passionate attempt, a stone to break a generation

Out, setting the pigeons free, aloft, go soaring free

Pouring release inwards, forwards towards their liberty

Is hardly but conceived, only a life bereaved

And flawed, no mental fire inly to emancipate, nor scope

Of competence for contemplative action,

Upon choices

And valued voices

A seemly seed, a tittle of a moiety of inkling

Confines its need

To intercede, so chase a breather on a corner stool

Where patch and salve

Repairs a black-eye caught upon a boxer’s sling

Mismatch

Of callow juveniles succumbing to crude haymakers

No parry, thrust, inadequates in contest

Losers cast lost beforehand,

The betting offers heavily inevitable odds

Prognosticates

The fancied victor formally foregone decided

By knockout celebrated

To boot, recruited losers, themselves learn soon to be bruisers

Fling off the usual knockout blows, gifted for lifetime recognition

Without them knowing how they’re doing homage

Using collateral damage

As done by their fathers

They quaff and comfort scoff, grow big on eats, do drugs,

Their nylon ragged labels catalogue as so much scum;

Their empty lives lived nylon,

Provisioning them their fabric man-made, not the natural thing

Cheap, mass produced, sub-substitute to swallow

Folk whom

Glad, as it were, preferring to have no taste

Instead all unaware of need to recognise

That taste avails, admits, and allows a choice available

As thing unsaleable, which goes around within you,

As you go

Indelibly

Like their circuitry

Of circuitous back alleys, one way cul de sacs,

Of unconsidered fuss, dull daily round complaints

Desire and ire; like outhouse walls paint peeling

And mildews roof to floor -

So likewise their rapport

A worn homogenous bog standard snookered life

Thwarted unless gut-feeling-filled with fatuous eager strifes

Carping comparisons, unlucky rants and downright petty bites

Of envious, blinkered rage

Let’s turn a page

Get hold of this, give it a kiss

Of life, this education thing

Bring logs to the fire, a liberal education might ignite, swinging

Open the gates: or does a covert, a protection ring

Prevent?

Keep them in tenements

Letting them understand their gaping rents

As fashion dress are formal, normal, worthy a few pence

Keep them in crazy dizzy surfeitings

Cheap, laid on thickly, sickly, like marmalade

Let them believe upon a life-jest played

Best curve them surface-things

Surely, surely,

Only the cognoscenti’ class are not the only thing

The only people proper, with a world of whip and cropper

Riding high, bred and sped roughshod to trample puppet pauper

People, of no such equal – yet, yes, such grift is phoney

Surely, surely,

The man is the manner early, early on portentous

In nappy pants; in ambience, just as a hole

Is a hole is a hole is a hole

As the whole is the whole is the whole

Of inheritance

A slur and a slander to behold, to be bold upon

Serve sweets unto the sweet, serve guttersnipes the gutter

Gutters are strolled and sweets betimes abound and sparkle there

Budded in muddy drain a seedling finds the eyes in spring, for instance

Haughty to make a snipe to gutter inference

Station in life is a matter of birthing incidence

Get on a bus and who is there to be transported

Whom to blame, defame,

There’s no-one there, all, all, have paid their fare;

Sometime with their innocence?