Waiting for the Blue
Light never strikes, OK?
Ever seen the growers tending
The mighty flowers of my anger?
Can you see ‘em? Sure?
But I kept pure and unsoiled for you,
Yet only stray dogs and beggars keep stalking me-
By the by, are you my first prey?
Poor you, Light, you grim playground,
Empty ‘n’barren on a Sunday lunch time,
Kids too busy tucking away the scrumptious cakes,
And now getting even worse than wildest storms-
And you, my winter, your mother
Made you a wannabe Caliban,
Ever jealous of merry lovers,
Ever trying to play nasty tricks to lovely dreamers-
Light, my Light, guess what?
I’ve got a soft spot for you,
I’d so like to drive your van-
Only, the driver gave me a very cold shoulder,
That’s why you sulked while hurling
Chilly clouds and icy skies-
End of story as ever, you’ll blab
God was feeding you with discarded books,
Letters, blazing souls flowing all over,
Or maybe you’ll rant Odysseus and his mates
Gorge on your mind-
Hey, hold on, once you met an outcast,
Yes, the rebel who sets my blue ablaze,
Yes, blue and jangle, and chars men and letters-
But why doesn’t she drop ‘em,
Why doesn’t she obey time-honoured traditions?… Click to Continue “Gabriella Garofalo: Waiting for the Blue”