As we walk onto ice-capped, roof-topped, snow-balled,
People walkin' round, hand on heads, dazed and confused,
Its blood it's running through these veins

Bears in chains and vanilla flavoured ice-cream,
Chocolate milk all crawling in gangs, cobbled with confetti and Safron robes,
It's blood it's running through these veins.

We swap meat, its DNA, dont break the chain,
A double-helix entwined with ivy, flowering yellow and purple,
Boondock Saints, lover's hate and blood: it's painted in a face.

Passing up the coffe for a time of dehydration,
Sleep deprivation and lack of sanitation and muscular degeneration.
I have a watch made on Groundhog day, inscribed with cyber pen,
The digits, small, they always stay and always say AM.

The taps are turned and water flows and eyes begin to burn,
A mundane thought of mind control and ATS begin to churn.
Should I sneak a peak at work or is the boss catching on?
What the hell, I might as well, I wont be on for long.

Nice work, Modulus
Your lines have cadence
They can be sung...are you a song writer, by chance?

I notice you use rhyme within a line...I admire that ability
ie: deprivation, sanitation and degeneration are used on a single line and yet the cadence is locked throughout the verse...that's not easy to do.

Questions...did it all flow out of you in one shot or did you have to "work' it?
Also...do you voice your poem...actually say it aloud?

The reason I mention that is because, when I write I always voice it. Any words which are awkward to say can break up the energy of a line, so I can change them to fit better.

A good example of how a line runs beautifully off the tongue is:

"What the hell, I might as well, I won't be on for long."

IMO...poetry is 'spoken word' and if it don't flow, it just don't go.

Looking forward to more

m

Thanks masque. You're quite right, the first are the lyrics to a song I wrote, the songs not much good because the words are a bit harsh to sing.

No I dont normally speak my poems, thanks for the tip though, be sure to give it a try.

Blood and razors cover the ground of a land unshaven,
a virgin maiden sold twice to the man named Satan,
forget a Hard Rain, we're experiencing a mother#ing hurricane!
Bullets and pain, and the CIA,
they shot JFK and threw your rights away.
Go ahead and fly your own planes into your towers of trade:
I've only got one thing to say,
no matter how hard you play your twisted game,
you're never gonna make us be afraid.

A crooked moon's arise from out the crooked water,
a lake made still with fear that's swallowed up your daughters.
Aside the mud awalks the legs upon which rides the nutter,
His back is arched inverted and his tongue smells of the gutter.

"Eee eye see thee, thou young 'uns in the trees"
The nutters throat, it rasps and chokes and on the gums he bleeds.
"Eye've got sum sweeties 'ere for yee, why dont 'e come and see?"

His lips apart as he bears his teeth to try and lure her in,
An acrid smile, his purple lips, his eyes afixed on little hips.
"Eye have a puppie just down the street, Eye'm sure yee'd like t' meet her."
Yes he writes those crooked lines on walls, this man, he's the Deciever.


[edit on 13-10-2005 by The_Modulus]

With parody tractody with comedy I know that you want to be with me tonight as we dance among the wolves and play in the fires as we watch and stare and gaze into the night, I know we will never part as long as we meet. You and me we have this time to think it through, a bloody axe lying on the floor. I think we run and then we get caught and then we go to jail and NO I will not go through with that.. I know a guy in there and we must lose this town in the dust of our retreat. That is the way we go, windward, downstream untill we blend with the crowd.

I was mumbling to myself and I know she overheard, she thought it was a songbird jittering in the night. I threw a stone into the darkness and heard the reverb inside my skull. To the bone a chill I got and walked away towards the fire. A glow of night, a slight of hand, a mind trick and progressive intuitions, I walked alone and walked and walked untill the sky turned pale and I came out again.

What is this she asked me, I have no idea i told myself but the words were not spoken. The mind was neglected and the shorelines washed and always abrassive is the coursest glance of her eye. I never gave her the chance to smile, I ran away and under covers stayed until the progressive nightmares washed away. Run away I did, I ran away and found myself out a hole and somewhwere strange that I wish not to remember, but where I did emerge it was finally free and hand in hand away it walked with me.

[edit on 15-10-2005 by The_Modulus]

[edit on 24-10-2005 by The_Modulus]

[edit on 25-10-2005 by The_Modulus]

It's gone, modulus...gone...

[edit on 24-10-2005 by masqua]

I'm looking for my place under the sun,
In a trash can tipped in the gutter.
I'm feeding off the scraps and picking out my friends,
From a choice of milk cartons and oily sardine cans.

My feet are aching and chaffing in my soaked through shoes.
The soles are peeling off and sticking to the gravel.
The faces staring back at me through the polished glass.
My scruffy face amidst the crowd as I stand outside their doors,
staring at my cold reflection like through a looking glass.

A hovering presumption thrown like a pebble to a deadly calm pond,
I face their firing squad and recieve their undercurrents as the fatal blows.
I thought they liked me, thought that I was cool.
The pebble missed its mark; I'll just turn around and crawl back to my hole.

I read my memories like a self-help novel.
Thinking I'll return again to yesterday to solve my secluded problem.
But everytime I prais the book in two, the pages fade and the ink stains blur.
Chapter by chapter I'm losing out; I'm writing as fast as I think I can,
Trying to alter the meaning in between the lines,
I begin to bruise and cry and falter as the pen drops from my aching hand.

I'm calling out the name of my love, my lover's gone and was just a man.
A love, a friend I feel the same. Our intertwining lives are ripped apart and cast out to the winter rain. A ringing in my ears fills that empty space and casts its paint to those fading pages that form the life I look back and can't remember having ever taken place.

So I sit here in my little hole, watching the raindrops seeping through the cardboard roof, Ive made me a prisoner by my own free will. I will look east and south, I will look behind me one last time. I'll wake up tomorrow morning when my dreams fade away, I'll try to remember and have them again, but I'll realise soon enough that those dreams were only yesterday.