deepundergroundpoetry.com
Breaking Graves With Word Waves
Dear unruly reader
Let me invite you to a fiction barbeque
Grilled verbs,
Cremated chapter & verse:
Draw your hearse alongside me
Pour a franklin font &
Watch how the colours run.
The fahrenheit is frightening.
Seeking refuge in the kitchen,
Talking post-war Polish prose
With a blushing boy from Ukraine.
A girl from Oxford city
Showing her latest tattoo:
WRITE YOURSELF INTO MY DIARY
Over an elbowed Elvis, all shook up.
INTERLUDE
We walked as pall bearers
In deep sea diving suits,
Breeze birthed ocean smell
Swollen Gods anoint the tidal toil.
Gloating sun waters
Streets supine white.
The gates face communities of brick
Grey slate quarried by ploughed hands.
Yew trees, as Victorian ladies
Pain(t)ed verdure green,
Back boned, strait laced, hollow bark
Branched abacus counts the stoned skulls
They belong to the seasons now:
With the loves and hates
And passions just like mine.
Fraught shadow seals
The west side,
Story upon soil storey
Of expired breaths.
Here lies William John McGraw (died 1768).
His tale never to be told
Held by the breeze weaving
Threads thru’ cobwebs
Upon his grave.
On a marble bench
Next to a flask armed
Old lady eating sandwiches,
Tattooed girl shares
Her note booked poetry.
Swings shoe laces to lasso beat
Jumps into pages as Ophelia on ecstasy,
Cracks the rhyme of ‘bliss’ and ‘abyss’
Whips ‘Jesus’ and ‘double decker bus.’
“Here are some lines I wrote on
Morning of Lady Di’s funeral.”
We knew they had been stolen
From some dizzy whore, 1804.
The old lady fed bread to pigeons.
From Hollywood to Hiroshima
Holocaust to Hate crime,
We are a people of ruin
Let the rain fall as rubble.
I promise,
When there is
Nothing left to
Care for anymore,
The door will close behind me.
We’ll meet at the cemetery gates
And speak the words we left unwritten.
Breathing farewell in our arms.
https://youtu.be/MYtdJX0tLbQ
Song. Cemetry Gates (deliberate misspelling). The Smiths.
Pic. Morrissey at Oscar Wilde’s tomb, Père Lachaise Cemetery, Paris
Words from song = italicised
Let me invite you to a fiction barbeque
Grilled verbs,
Cremated chapter & verse:
Draw your hearse alongside me
Pour a franklin font &
Watch how the colours run.
The fahrenheit is frightening.
Seeking refuge in the kitchen,
Talking post-war Polish prose
With a blushing boy from Ukraine.
A girl from Oxford city
Showing her latest tattoo:
WRITE YOURSELF INTO MY DIARY
Over an elbowed Elvis, all shook up.
INTERLUDE
We walked as pall bearers
In deep sea diving suits,
Breeze birthed ocean smell
Swollen Gods anoint the tidal toil.
Gloating sun waters
Streets supine white.
The gates face communities of brick
Grey slate quarried by ploughed hands.
Yew trees, as Victorian ladies
Pain(t)ed verdure green,
Back boned, strait laced, hollow bark
Branched abacus counts the stoned skulls
They belong to the seasons now:
With the loves and hates
And passions just like mine.
Fraught shadow seals
The west side,
Story upon soil storey
Of expired breaths.
Here lies William John McGraw (died 1768).
His tale never to be told
Held by the breeze weaving
Threads thru’ cobwebs
Upon his grave.
On a marble bench
Next to a flask armed
Old lady eating sandwiches,
Tattooed girl shares
Her note booked poetry.
Swings shoe laces to lasso beat
Jumps into pages as Ophelia on ecstasy,
Cracks the rhyme of ‘bliss’ and ‘abyss’
Whips ‘Jesus’ and ‘double decker bus.’
“Here are some lines I wrote on
Morning of Lady Di’s funeral.”
We knew they had been stolen
From some dizzy whore, 1804.
The old lady fed bread to pigeons.
From Hollywood to Hiroshima
Holocaust to Hate crime,
We are a people of ruin
Let the rain fall as rubble.
I promise,
When there is
Nothing left to
Care for anymore,
The door will close behind me.
We’ll meet at the cemetery gates
And speak the words we left unwritten.
Breathing farewell in our arms.
https://youtu.be/MYtdJX0tLbQ
Song. Cemetry Gates (deliberate misspelling). The Smiths.
Pic. Morrissey at Oscar Wilde’s tomb, Père Lachaise Cemetery, Paris
Words from song = italicised
Published 28th Jun 2020
Author's Note
For 'When Words Fail, Music Speaks' comp. ERULGCT 58. Umanoid xx. So so many songs. Boring predictability...chose Morrissey verses. Amuses me how it lurches from death, poetry to plagiarism. ALL STAY SAFE
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 6
reading list entries 6
comments 2
reads 435
Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.
29th Jun 2020 7:24pm
The cultural inferences are so brilliantly dispersed, as I looked up the unfamiliar and began to understand their place within the whole, the write began to take on such a crystalline, streamlined cognizance to me. The whole has a feel of the absurdity of being, the steady declining decay of society. I love how you begin by addressing the reader, the play on wordplay, it is intriguing and leads well into the stanzas with weight of time and gravity within them. This is such a masterful write. I would love it if you'd send an audio in to the podcast for us to air. I think a lot of people would benefit from listening to it and pondering it.
1st Jul 2020 12:37pm
the scribe overall runs in the beating racing terrains & roaring tides & rhythms of, not juz Morrissey, but MUSIC as a whole.- the eternity art that merges & runs further into the eternity of words, the poetry... & all drains unto the truth utmost , LOVE! Absolutely loved the last stanza .. an eternal onenessness ever felt intense.. agrees with Daniel's detailing & beautiful comment.. your trademark woven references & humour & live stark commentary on the rotten society & fallen values ..esp. the plagiarism is in highlight , & one could appreciate this scribe & Mozzie's fab song in your link & dedication - on these lines. beautiful & thoughtful work of art & dedication to Music & Adored Moz doodah... Best for the Comp. , Love Me xx
