Hi all, first up let's say thank you to Anna, Jo, Shilpa, Mary, Sarah and Lynda for readings, commenting and liking my previous post. It is much appreciated as always.
How the years go tiptoeing by is what comes to my mind today. What has brought on this bout of nostalgia I hear you ask. Well, many years ago I used to reside in Peckham, South East London. They were good old times in my nascent years and I knew a few fellow children who were who I grew up with. Imagine my surprise when out of the blue, one soul from back then dropped a comment on a Facebook post.
I won't lie, my memory is a bit hazy from all those years ago but how wonderful that we can connect after so many years passing by. It's great when Facebook can be brought to the masses with real purpose rather than polluting the atmosphere with inane nonsense and fake celebrity Memes. It's nice to do a bit of virtual time travelling and somewhere in my old noggin lies a whole filing cabinet of memories from those days. Of course, it's buried deep with all this other tat called life. When the time comes to pass over, I dare say it will all come up and be stashed away in the Akashic records.
Hmm, just thought I'd stick on a bit Sarabande by Handel. No doubt some of you will think, but Gaz, weren't you into all that heavy metal and hard rock. I do indeed like to blast a bit of the loud stuff now and then but not so much these days. For me, this piece of classical genius makes me think of My Way back in those days of splendour. Do go and google it and listen for yourself if you wish to experience it for yourself.
Well, today for my piece of prose or poetry I shall explore my old records. I was transferring a few files today and there are lots of old bits and bobs. I shall explore to see what is suitable for this humble blog as back then I did used to write some err, macabre material. Let's see what comes forth...
He who gave money
Under a Libran moon
The suited one came
Mouth full of pearls
Asked our desires
Snapped open a valise
Urged us to sign
Quite dared us
To take the fat vein
“Mr. Mammon, are you sure?”
My partner asked with a glass
Pointed to a tablet
Of spreadsheets and dollars
Told us of sin
When he created cash
Gave her the device
She flinched, looked my way
He stared into my soul
Saw who I desired
“Be happy, leave this mare,”
I dallied in red guilt
Shivered with hurt eyes
Scoundrel still pressed
I exchanged soul for cash
Bring my cathedral of wealth
My love disappeared
Yet the lamia was mine
Gave pain with tiny joy
Always complained
With the waxing of life
I think just of him
Mammon, his valise
Waiting for me
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