Saturday, March 10, 2012


Plummet ~ David Linn

You shake me up in this half-broken castle
The one where it all comes down to me

You question the indiscretions
Of an honest man
Whose ill-advised arrows
Were mere pearls in the oil

You will bring down the silence
And daggers will be drawn
On a sun rising cold in the winter
On all that you scorn

And the blood that you spill
Wont stain the formica
Laid down to defend
This old woodworm floor
Against the rigours of enlightened-interest
Against the breaking of day

You shake me up
Pat my tin-can head
Applaud my token gestures
As if applause made them valid
As if they were the prize

You Shake me up
Shake me up
As if in the darkest moments
Of a paranoid day
You were the Chamber of Commerce
The Minister of Disinformation
Or The Council of Whispers
And I the knock at your door
Never to be answered
By poised pencils whose purpose
Was merely to keep score


Garth said...

I know, I know - I tried to bash this thing into shape but it just wouldn't conform - so, fuck it: no structure is still stucture right?

My lack of posting is a result of my dredging the aftermath of last week's special edition of Politics in the Workplace in which a colleage was fired for all the wrong reasons.

Pouting Bear said...

Hm, it may lack the structure you were after, but it still has rhythm.

Welcome back, workplace politics are always a drag.

Confessions of a Temporal Lobe said...

Bash away!
Fifth verse really punched me in the head. And I think I rather liked it.

When the whole world was in love with James Dean, I just wanted to marry his brother and eat sausage every morning for the rest of my life.

Conformity has never been one of my stronger traits.