Friday, 8 April 2016

poem 100

Blinded by mass migration, feet here are classed temporary and thoughts safe
Sit back and recline and forget it's all the way down 
One more picture taken please, add that to the million 
And my face says pity upon your domination 
Blank against any more words, set and framed upon this, the only blue
Stone just called out alive and then played a sweetest melody
“It's words again” said the bull, as the blade penetrates through
excuse me Socrates, oh my mistake your hair looks the same in shadow 
But this dance been done before and never will quench a thirst
And it's we, who trade in words, in you and in the games to be played 
Rothko gazed upon, by the same eyes but this time I have changed 
“Smash the window and tomorrow we will profit”. said the glass maker
In your eye a skull was drawn and guernica another history they lightly made
One face classed as guilty and the other who crimes they hide
And back to the dancers and again I still drink for more
Don't reflect mirror, for you whisper in the dark or is that my voice
a poet leaps upon the screen but tonight he failed, leaving anger in the room
My friends words said “we all need, creative ways to feel our day”
I think I wrote that down wrong, yet more possibilities stand and here a free mind 
But the film just played the credits and ends with a blank screen

A poem inspired by the great video work of My friends

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