Robert@PNG

Downtown Goroka,
red corner,
described by many as…
the worst of the worst.

Drugs, alcohol and anything else,
you can think of,
corruption at its best,
of humanity that is.

Rough and ready,
the street boys,
they congregate,
and wait…

Waiting for that chance,
or perhaps…
red corner,
a place to relax,
after finally finding some luck.

Red corner,
reputation,
cheap girls
and filth.

Buai and ciggies,
beer and marihuana,
what else?
Your guess is as good as!

Rough as guts,
and on a pay day,
men…
singing, swearing and fighting.

The wild west,
real as and…
sweet as!

For men are men,
and all need a break,
all need to take some rest,
from a days toil.

Whether your line of work,
as contribution,
retribution,
or plain old satisfaction…
Men are men!

The men from red corner…
better to have them as friends,
a buai here
and a smoke there…
occasionally even a beer,
or a livex!

Yes livex!
How vial…
How powerful…
A true master!

To be or not to be,
to survive or die,
and all men are equal!

For if a white man forgets to wipe his arse,
his pants will stink,
just like a bloke,
standing on red corner.

And should Mum die,
he too will cry.
And deep down all men,
honest or criminal,
are equal.

Two arms and two legs,
we laugh,
we cry…
no difference really.

Red corner…

The outside is rough,
but inside,
the men of red corner,
like brothers.