Old And New At The Grammies 2014 Poem by Roy Blokker

You do not know the Sixties.
The Civil War is ancient history,
World War One the realm of dead poets
No one ever reads,
And World War Two a mere tickle
In the back of our collective brains,
Its membership dying off
Like mayflies at midnight.
And now, the Sixties, boom, boom, boom,
Stand upon the precipice, the outer edge
Of the terrible land of forgetfulness,
Frozen under a glacier, text, no pictures,
Turning into stone tablets
Perfect for skipping across the melt
When e'er it comes.
And even when musicians now
Seventy and older, rockers,
Stand as tall as possible,
Backs creaking, fingers aching,
Ears buzzing, voices hoarse,
Alongside modern marvels,
Nostalgia seems much more like
Honoring the breathing dead
Whom we have become
Though walking still among you.