Sleep is broken
FinsburyParkCarrots
Posts: 12,223
Sleep is broken
Houses are looted
Forms are filled
Trains are weighted
Camps are built
Stars forge flesh
Heads get shaved
Ovens burn
Bodies pile
Sleep is broken
Houses are looted
Forms are filled
Planes are weighted
Camps are built
Love George Bush
The East is saved
Bridges burn
Bodies pile
Houses are looted
Forms are filled
Trains are weighted
Camps are built
Stars forge flesh
Heads get shaved
Ovens burn
Bodies pile
Sleep is broken
Houses are looted
Forms are filled
Planes are weighted
Camps are built
Love George Bush
The East is saved
Bridges burn
Bodies pile
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The gilded pate of a skull
ripped from a man of the land
whose calloused and broken hand
is now owned by the company board
whose profits per annum have soared.
He has his own customised spoon
That Daddy had given him when
he pleased Mummy by learning to say
"More candy for poor little me."
He sits in his room with the bright
neon lights blurring his sight
of a city grown fat on the spoil
of the labour of folk of the soil.
And writes little poems that cry
"There's nothing more urgent than my
suffering, than of my pain."
He sucks in his cheeks so to 'wane'.
But Daddy will teach him to kill
and soon he'll be happy to fill
his bowl with the means of production
by workers whose meaningless action
has made them the dead and the null,
with no time for philosophy's pull
into privileged lounges of mind
where hand-to mouth fear's left behind
for singing of "poor-little-me
and my soft cushioned hell and my play
with escapist ideas of a field
to which I like the peasant could wield
my sickel and merrily sow
a life in the sun as I go...."
actually i like this one a great deal. No place like concision where fury is upheld.
seta
I think I'll just stay here in the hut, where there's hope.
Richard
don't quit the board fins, at least not the poetry board... i like your writing.. and don't let the other areas get to you because it is all for fun
As she slams the door in his drunken face
And now he stands outside
And all the neighbours start to gossip and drool
He cries oh, girl you must be mad,
What happened to the sweet love you and me had?
Against the door he leans and starts a scene,
And his tears fall and burn the garden green
I don't blame you, I've had the needs and desires to go that route as well. I've even had a PM prepared to Kat so that one day my beloved thread here would be deleted in its entirety... I don't know.
I would go into the base politic jungle with you, my friend, because I have a feeling that we probably see eye to eye on many of those issues, but I have learned the futility of attacking a fascist regime falsely voted in under the snickered guise of democracy. A great many are fooled and many more are fooled to the emotional level. I might as well be a serial rapist baby killer at that level the second I step into the fray.
And you know me, I don't let loose haphazardly. I'll break out the RPG if I need to LOL. And damned if it doesn't just get ugly. I watch people get ugly, and I can't even see the expressions on their faces. How sad is that?
Don't leave, not for my sake but for everyone else's. I know that we've had our differences in the past (and I don't know that Cassia, bless her, will ever forgive me, even though I SWEAR I wasn't trying to hurt feelings), but you bring many many great and glorious things to this board; a refinement of word that many could never attain, including myself. So I, too, put in my vote for fins to stay.
We cannot save people from their ignorance but the eastern philosophies and even Christ himself would forgive them this poor outlook. So we shall. And then we have to attack our own in attempts to better ourselves. God help us all.
Talk soon finsy.
Marc
No, I shan't leave the hut. I'm impetuous and I stomp about a bit, you know. I'm not above drama.
I love being part of this poetry forum. Thank you all.
I'll pm you, seta, if that's OK.
we've too many on hiatus now, imo...
this is just too camp-firey to want to leave...
riding my tricycle about the back yard,
round and round an orange pip that I'd found. I knew
better than all
that if I encircled it again and again
I could magic it into a tree.
It grew higher than the fence.
When Dad built a kitchen extension
on the spot,
the orange tree grew from the concrete
through the middle of the room
out through the roof.
And it kept on growing.
Well, I'm thirty two and I'm going to climb
the tree of my childhood home
that they told me bore no leaves,
because it's the building of walls that's the fantasy
and not the dream.
Simple as this.
Simple, simple as this.
keep it up. Some of the best I have read from you...
and thanks for the PM.. you may end up being harassed though my friend. I hope you don't mind.
seta