Krapp’s Last Tape – Samuel Beckett

- gooseberries, she said. I said again I thought it was hopeless and no good going on and she agreed, without opening her eyes. [Pause.] I asked her to look at me and after a few moments – [Pause.] – after a few moments she did, but the eyes just slits, because of the glare. I bent over her to get them in the shadow and they opened. [Pause. Low.] Let me in. [Pause.] We drifted in among the flags and stuck. The way they went down, sighing before the stem! [Pause.] I lay down across her with my face in her breasts and my hand on her. We lay there without moving. But under us all moved, and moved us, gently, up and down, and from side to side.

[Pause. Krapp's lips move. No sound.]

Past midnight. Never knew such silence. The earth might be uninhabited.

[Pause.]

Here I end this real. Box – [Pause.] – three, spool – [Pause.] – five. [Pause.] Perhaps my best years are gone. When there was a chance of happiness. But I wouldn’t want them back. now with the fire in me now. No, I wouldn’t want them back.

[Krapp motionless staring before him. The tape runs on in silence.]

Poetry: Life on the Cutting Edge

Finding one’s balance
On the blade of a scimitar
Is truly
Experiencing life
On the
Cutting Edge

-

Found this in an old blog. Apparently I wrote it after watching some martial arts film. Somebody balancing on a sword, I think. *shakes head* My old self is quite random, I feel.

Snow

[untitled]

i raise my face to the gentle fingers of snow
so large, the flakes catch on hair and eyelashes
as the song goes

it’s lovely – how it muffles the roar of engines and the voices
as if, a blanket is wrapping all around us
cold and still
and i smile

because for once, nature wins in an age old battle
and class has been cancelled again

—-

[untitled] [soutetsu?]

i am the cold wind
harsh against the lips
dark hair like a flag, watching the sea rise and fall under the blows of wind

the fragility of snow
it is this land of people broken
it is lying in my hand

—-

Snowflakes in Sunlight

Golden flakes falling from the sky -
Changed through Nature’s alchemy
By the celestial stone.

Some sort of miracle before my eyes -
That snow and light can free
Wild souls which stand alone.

—-

White Vimy Ridge

1. so much depends on the first flake
    the first pure martyr

2. one delicate blanket melts – a thousand die
    for the rest to follow

3. its a battle to survive and remain entrenched
    to gain ground

4. to raise the flag on enemy terrain
    the white standard of winter

おはよございます！[ohayo gozaimasu!]

Ohayo gozaimasu!
[Japanese: Good morning. Very polite term.]

Well… it’s not really morning – more like very early morning… *glares at clock* But at any rate… Just an introduction… saying ‘hi’ and all that…

—–

And without further ado… a SONG! Made by me, for my coworks. (Hahaha!) Written for a funny creative gift for my supervisors, this is a nod to all the kitchen staff who complain bitterly about the hardships of working as cooks.

Sing Hey! For the Kitchen Minions
(and for those with the nameless moniker)

Here’s a little song, to the unknown workers,
bent-backed, hands a blur, whirling around and around
in a hot as hellfire place.

Here’s a little song, ho! Forth, nameless slave!
Who never sees the light of day, stoking the bonfires
of toasters and microwaves.

This is merely a [little] song to the ones who have fallen on the way -
Yes, those victims of disgruntlement and greed
now gone to a brighter day.

For them let us have silence.

……………………

Let us end this little song, with a toast – chock full of bliss -
for those whose hands continue to work at the speed of bullets:
To all of you, a kiss!

—–

Hahaha….