New Year’s Day in Kolonia
White
spider webs, black termite dust.
Chicken
roasting on red hot coconut husks.
Children
roam the city trumpeting their youth;
banging
out their lust for life
on
metal signs and metal drums.
With
betel nut smiles and
barely
a glance they pass me by;
a
sterile specter of glory stumbled.
They
have no knowledge, concern, or care
for
those of us who’ve moved on in years.
I
miss that rhythm, I miss those days.
Exalting
life, confessing love.
The
only cadence I offer now,
in
greeting yet another year -
an
awkward wave of fretful hands
and
my rotting shoes all torn to hell.
-
Just a peasant
posted by Just a peasant at Friday, January 11, 2013
4 Comments:
We can hardly turn back the time, but don't you ever get the urge to grab hold of a bass guitar and start playing endlessly?
I for one would love to hear you play. Not the music of your past self, but from you present.
Ayano xxx.
Hi Ayano,
No I don't. I wouldn't know what to play and I'm sure I would say all the wrong things.
I apologize that my remark was too hawkish to the point of offending. Your stand was (and still is) totally valid and most of all, sincere. I always always appreciate that.
I will try to take better control of my tendency to be argumentative in the future.
I hope that you'll forgive me for my coarseness, it's the way I am.
Ayano xxx.
Oh my! You didn't offend me at all. The tone of my response was pensive. I don't expect people to agree with anything I say. Argue as much as you want to.
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