Identity theft


Staring at the red candle,
remembering the smell of patchouli oil,
mixed with the Red Leb, from all those years ago.
On Saturday 4th July, 1846 the London Daily News 
extolled the virtues of this peculiar
Indian oil in preventing moths.
Nothing to do with hippies, except India, 
and olfactory-based imagined communities from the past 
that have a grip that lasts. 
Ad agencies now use the association between hippies 
and environmentalism to sell boringly green cars to the Saga
Generation. Forgetting the decades spent mocking
tree-hugging, new age travellers, Swampy’s anti-road protests.
Greenham common. Identities are stolen all the time. We are bound together
By what we forget: and what we forget is our common link one to the other.
Some crave dear-bought security above all things. For them exploration
Is anathema, others an object of fear. For elitists, the enduring attachment is to intelligence, this leaves me aghast, their unspoken assumption 
is that only those who fit the mould, like them, can share their identity.
Thank God. Nothing lasts.

◄ Savant syndrome

Taliesin ►


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