Blue is the colour of the night
black is the colour of my heart
speaking could shatter the scene
Almost blue
all the things I saw in your eyes
proves you only see what
you want
to see
Almost blue
twenty years in the painting
picture this reality
the concept the practicality lost
panic on the streets of my mind
details I recognised but never knew
things aren't said
because they are true
lies are told not to deceive
because they are almost
touching, so close to fact, so
matter of fact, so
Almost blue,
smoke screened revolution underground
in the bars the clubs, the night,
the moment, the crux of our discontent
car crash suicide, midnight lay-by
blow-by-blow job
How did I live this long
who was there to remind me
there was no future
one way ticket Babylon
fallen to the slab you have no choice
but to see the stars
how little they could mean
in harsh reality
the pernicious beatification
left to the poets
no dirt beneath their nails
to explain to us how it should be
23 comments:
Conjures...the Blues.
so sad, so compelling, so revolutionary! Love this one, TFE!
Dark and haunting. That last verse really completes the whole train of thought. Nifty poetage there, Eej.
I feckin love this. The second stanza is a knockout - and then that final one is killer as well.
This is the kind of poem that makes me glad I read poetry.
Thanks for sharing it.
(reading this aloud would be pretty special too - just something worth considering)
This is powerful work. Somehow in all the fun and funniness of your blog, I forget what a good poet you are. Then you post something of this depth and blow me away.
I'm not certain I understand all of it, but I think that's often true of poetry. Nevertheless, the images conveyed paint a ("twenty years in the painting") reality of "panic on the streets of my mind."
I especially like the turn in the final stanza - the death that stops the selective blindness and opens the eyes to the stars. The reference to poets is brilliant.
I can't help wondering (with the references to death, suicide, etc.) if there isn't a true story behind this.
"...things aren't said because they are true"
Powerful and sad.
Oh, that last verse tells a tale dunnit?
"fallen to the slab you have no choice
but to see the stars
how little they could mean
in harsh reality
the pernicious beatification
left to the poets
no dirt beneath their nails
to explain to us how it should be"
Well turned, Eej. Well turned indeed. The struggle in this is palpable.
"The crux of our discontent" is superlative. And blow-by-blow job is brilliant. The whole thing works, not just those two lines. I just wanted to point them out. Nice work.
Loved this from the opening three lines, especially the,
"speaking could shatter the scene".
The intimacy and the exposure of the writing touches very deeply, and I'm in agreement with the others - the final stanza is knock-out.
Great stuff.
Blue magic, Sparkey?
Why tank you soon to be Dr Jeanne!
Casandra, messages unaccompanied by a profile,smells of spam.
Thanksly ArgentO!
Well that's a big compliment Niamh, thank you.
THanks too Karen, I think I only have the one poem written a million different ways.Your're supposed to write about what you know.I don't know anything.
Tangxzsly Willowo!
Thanks for that Mojo. Perhaps you see it?
Much thanks again enchanted Oak.
Thanks Titus, kind words.Appreciatoed.
THanks to everyone for reading and taking the time to comment. You are all kind. Don't be afraid to point out what you don't like. That too is so important.I promise not to blub. (Much)
Deep, dark and rather sad but beautiful too Peadar.
Well... you know I like your poems, you always right with guts and wit and conviction.. the fourth thingy is fecking great.. but the whole thing is just excellent. (Plus it has the ring of a twelve bar blues song about it.. almost) :-D
Well, let's be honest (since you've given the go ahead); the whole thing is crap! (Bwaah haaa)
Get real, Peadar, you couldn't write anything that didn't at least have one or two gems in it. Truly.
Luv ya!
Kat
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