Too Old to Rock and Roll, Too Young to Die
By Ewan
- 780 reads
The piano man hasn’t given us a song
in so long, just tours the big venues
where the menus are hot dogs and burgers.
The bones are still strolling,
only rock and rolling without doctor beat’s
feats on the bass drum and snare.
The audience likes it loud,
proud of the Oticon turned up,
burned up to eleven like the speakers,
lo-heeled sneakers boppin’
‘til droppin’ in the nostalgia wave:
graveyard rock for the boom-babies,
maybe don’t come around here no more
or stop in the name of someobody to love.
- Log in to post comments
Comments
I can relate to this poem,
I can relate to this poem, used to love live music loud and proud, but just not able to cope with speakers turned up to their highest decibels, and the large crowds anymore, they leave my head spinning and body shaking with anxiety.
Oh to be young again.
Jenny.
- Log in to post comments
Your poem is very nostalgic
I still like to listen to the songs of my best summer days cranked to the decible levels of max, but maybe that's because I blew out some part of my eardrums back inmy teens and can no longer hear the music unless it is pumped up to high volume, but if dropped back into that decade of youth...I'd probably do it again. Enjoyed this poem very much!
- Log in to post comments
I know the feeling
It's been a long while since I went to a gig. Quite a few years ago I went to Reading with my younger Brother. I felt too old to be there even then. I was surprised though about how many people of my age and perhaps older were there.
Too young to die? Hmm not sure about that nowadays, but I definitely don't want to.
Excellent poem, Ewan.
- Log in to post comments