I liked your old stuff

A few nights ago I had the distinct pleasure of being invited along to a special secret show by some very talented people.
The idea was to create a multi media performance that covered original artwork, film making, poetry and music.
The performance was recorded and filmed and maybe the footage and recordings will see the light of day.
Or I should say hopefully they are a quality that they can maybe see the light of day.

The reason I say hopefully is that while the majority attending were fully aware of what was on offer, and were happy to participate as witnesses to it, there was one person who seemed to have failed to read the memo.

In his head he was at a gig.
A gig that should be tailored to his tastes.

At random moments he would shout out names of songs that were irrelevant to he performance.
At others times he would make noises.
I am sure he was trying to communicate something, but what it was failed to travel from mind to tongue in any understandable way.

It was rather sad to watch this grown man so disconnected from the moment.
To emphatically fail to appreciate that he was giving nothing to the performance, but instead was taking a great deal away from it.

On the plus side I got to write a short poem about the experience.

I've called it 'I liked your old stuff.'

There was once a man who lived for a moment in time
Every moment lived prior to it was in preparation
Every moment after was lived in remembrance
He lived in the moment, but it was only one moment
And in living in it he eschewed all other moments
So beware the moment in time
Never be drawn by the siren song of the moment
Living on a rock in a moment in time is no place to be.