I’m a fairly educated autistic,
masks well and likes goth music,
my kid likes mineblox and robcraft,
watches tiktubers instead of puppetcraft.
I see the enthusiasm,
the abundance of energy,
the endless chit chats about mob bats,
and the fearless joy in exploding mercury!
the wisdom that colouring in the right colours is boring.
a white square pug with a multicoloured mug,
a potato coloured beetle with bright red people,
the faceless stare of a circle as it holds hands with a turtle,
that’s not what it is, my mind’s biz’d.
too much for the autistic,
too much conformity in the logistic,
that they teach there’s such a thing as the right colours,
what does that mean?
the child sees the colours the right want,
can do it at the prompt,
but think it’s too easy, they’re away.
now every cloud has a rainbow,
every tree has a bird show,
the sea is full of big monsters,
the sky rains jelly and toasters.
the imagination of the child,
flies free from the holds, and unfolds,
a beautiful dream full of wonder and screams,
of shadows under the bed,
and fizzy that will blow off your head!
they show us their world, it’s purer than ours,
not tainted by those missed moments of creeping hours.
if their light is bright, let them shine,
let them sometimes guide, that’s fine.
it’s their world you’re helping to build,
I hope it will be chilled.
if what I say makes you mad, I welcome your rage,
it would help this old punk goth to get his teeth out,
it’s been a while since I fed,
it might be good to mosh that head,
or maybe more ink, another pierced thing,
the thunderstorms of the industrial sing.
a silly old steam-monk, a mechanical brained fat lump,
that’s how I am, all bravado and spam.
dunno if that’s gen x, but it fits,
I hope gen alpha is cleverer than me.
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