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Children Of The Glamned (Resurrection Shuffle)

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Children Of The Glamned (Resurrection Shuffle)

We found out all we knew about sex
in Youth Clubs and the disco-teques
grinding slowly to T-Rex
pumping from the Teac decks
then with Pans People our flames were fanned
we were the children of the glamned.

A thousand miles we’d gladly travel
for Noddy Holder’s voice of gravel
then watch our hopes and dreams unravel
in brief encounters with Jimmy Saville
while Suzi Quatro Can The Canned
we were the children of the glamned.

The photo-shoots - cheesy and tacky
in the pop filled pages of the Jackie
sucking on the wacky-baccy
shared by some guy called Micky Mackay
we whammed, we bammed, we shang-a-langed
we were the children of the glamned.

Ziggy played guitar and pouted
Slade stomped their feet and chuffing shouted
Sweet were brickies, over-grouted,
must be gay, we never doubted.
We wanted to be Gary’s glitter band
we were the children of the glamned.

Playing football in our platform boots
girlfriends bragged, “Oh ain’t he cute?!”
dressed to the nines in lurex suits
peroxide blonde, dying our roots.
Alice Cooper, drawn, quartered, hanged
we were the children of the glamned.

Watching Magpie’s Susan Stranks
the root cause of a thousand wanks
but no doubt there were way more thanks
for Sally James and her Tiswas pranks
our eyesight was forever damned
we were the children of the glamned.

We danced to that stupid Chinnichap beat
that shuffled from Mud’s Tiger Feet
we dipped our shoulders, hips to greet
and thought we looked so bloody neat.
Copying Alvin Stardust’s leather clad hand
we were the children of the glamned.

The stardust memories slowly fade
like Mott The Hoople behind shades
remember all the dreams we made
on Sherbet dibs and lemonade
we were tinsel gods and never bland
we were the children of the glamned

Punk drew itself from glam rock glitter
sucked on the Sweet and made it bitter
Motley Crue learned from their baby sitter
to apply the make up – jive and jitter
so those faded teens could make one last stand
We ARE the children of the glamned.

BARD COMPANYglamglam rockpopretroseventiessweet

◄ the small matter of a white screen at midnight

Roadie ►


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Val Cook

Fri 20th Jun 2014 19:08

A good performance poem Ian you did good.

Kenneth Eaton-Dykes

Mon 9th Jun 2014 14:14

Hi Ian

Nice one, You should follow it up with a musical entitled
"Savilles Scandals"

I can imagine the first scene, Enter Jim stage left holding a young girls or boys hand, smirking, here's one I did earlier, oo'er missus

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Harry O'Neill

Sat 7th Jun 2014 00:47

As a guy who resented Sinatra challenging Crosby
I retire defeated.

Nice hectic performer.

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Ged the Poet

Thu 5th Jun 2014 20:07

Superb title. I can still "feel the noise" ;) Nostalgia revisited for me in this one. Great depth to the work. Love it. Another great piece of writing Ian.
(I have a shorter poem in my blog relating to the Seventies. 'Smelly Bogs and Diamond Dogs' relating to that time of the decade which may tweak the strings of nostalgia for you).

I really enjoy your work and your links Ian.

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M.C. Newberry

Thu 5th Jun 2014 15:09

Although I hail from an earlier teen generation
with the glory days of Rockn'Roll uppermost,
I enjoyed this foray into the slightly nearer past
- with its (for me) evocations of what Philip
Larkin might have come up with if he had similar
Consistently inventive, it is surely "one from
the heart".
Seems like only yesterday!!

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