Wednesday, 18 December 2013

Oblomovka


A wee ditty I wrote about Ilya Ilyich Oblomov's dream from Oblomov. His life in the sweet homely setting of Oblomovka is but a distant dream; indolence and recalcitrance slowly replace the agency of his youth; any notion of home is a million miles away from the slovenly setting of his adult life.

Catch his light when you're far away
when I wake up; its the end of my day.
You'll see asleep when you're far away
oh dear my daydream you wont make it okay

'Cause its a long way back home
And you're a long, way, from home

A figurine of laconic dismay;
Each day in daylight is fading away
You come and see whats not on display
life stole an angel and sent him astray

Where its a long way from home,
And its a long, way, back home.

Catch his light when you're far away
when I wake up; its the end of my day.

...You may notice a similar chorus to some song or other, adapted unintentionally, for my own creative purposes.

Yours,
SiBot.


Monday, 16 December 2013

Quartermain

In streets of rain,
tethered to life,
wades an old man
plastic bag in hand;
Clutching at one handle
as one might expect,
of a lazy youth.

But he has to grip tightly
beside himself with life;
Keeps carrying on,
Whilst dying to escape.