On leaving the drudgery of the levi's shop

pcwares

Pondering over a lost love and the grey families that pass through on my last day in this f-ing levi's store leafing through some magasine. A good few years ago now. Its an old poem.

Shelfed in denim, dreams an' all
Ghost walkers and apparitions shackled
shame saves their life's fall,
Exumed thoughts willing templelobes
inducing her to call,...

Midst leafy shapeshifting through Rossborough house,
Jack B Yeats lashes the dialed silence,
Gouging my dreams back to life,
Her memory in Frankenstinia now,
I lar,
In aghaidh the busting canvas.

the raven

the title is fantastic but i think this is the poem you're lookin' for, scrap the rest.

"Pondering over a lost love and the grey families that pass through on my last day in this f-ing levi's store leafing through some magasine. A good few years ago now. Its an old poem."

you may think i'm kidding but honest to dog i'm not.

(let's not mention the bad spelling)

the raven

this deserves another post rather than an edit!!

i can't get over it!! really, the poem is the opening! i love it! and it finishes perfectly!!
(please please don't think this is sarcasm)

Blush_01

I'm with Raven. The "poem" bit of what you've posted tries too hard. The introduction says what it's saying, and says it well.

I'd pay money for stuff like the first bit.

pcwares

The "poem" is a velocity construct. Hast to be spoken. Attempting to reach a deafening sound by the start which is the end. The life decisions that are sculpted on the mockery to life which harbours us all in this c*ntemptory societal inlet guarding our ideals and morals while we bathe away our innocence in melodrama, pretence and farce. Prostitutes to mobiles, esb bills, 4 blades of a bast*rd razor. What will any of us be remembered for. Some entry in a 'periodical of note'. Some ego boost. 'Tis all a muddle', and we flounder on with a worthless pursuit. Our existence. 'Drunk on the mirror' we try to capture and cage moments - moments dicated by the genepool and the chemical imbalances and circuitry which course our minds, the inate, the c+e, and blather and fog and blather. And what of the frontal lobes - the reasoning. Short circuited in respose laughing a weary laugh at the futility of it all.

And for all this - this is something.

Only to be achieved for the self. And yet still, how much we missed wandering with someone in nature back home. Trapsing through the cowpat with the masai warrior stick left to ruin in the kitchen corner. Its base spliced from a revolving day and night. Hopkins and his 'instress' quietly murmurs as the well feeding the trough in the field with the diseased cow. And still its hollow with out the fawning eyes and the clasped hand in yours.

Good night, good bless safe home-- lol

the raven

what sorta poet publishes a book then explains it?? stop dude. don't underestimate your reader. it may be "insight into your reasoning" bullsh1t but to be honest its not worth a damn 'till someone asks. even then...

and, to use your oh-so-quickly-patented hot-headed reactionary diction, FFS stop exaggerating what people are saying (they're simply providing subjective commentary). you're jumping to conclusions mate, and you're misreading between the lines. just chill dude. these boards aren't that big a deal in your life now are they?

pcwares

Raven,

I spend most of the time rocking in the corner dribbling and howling at the moons refraction from my bottle of pills.

However you have a fair point. I have over reacted on a few occasions. Its a settling in period i suggest. Ill leviate to the chilled zone.

pcwares.