15 April

Day 15

Prompt - music you love - using the rhythm as a device

The Poundland Opera

And this poem has a limp, dear,

drags itself around the floor

so the dancers keep on dancing,

to the same song as before

And the charlatans, not the band dear,

but the liars on the Strand,

try out tricks dear

to keep us quiet, but they'll never understand

That this music is for strange times,

for the slackers and the thieves,

for the dealers on the corner,

in their hoodies, selling weed

All the nice folk stay inside dear,

and we would too, if we could

Call the police dear

They may come, dear

if you’re distant and you’re good


Gymnopedie

Any rhythm is hard to translate

But this taptap

flows then it limps

With my slow left hand

crashing too loud,

Sorry Erik,

I'm automaton

Iron with nailed soles,

poem of loss, 

painter of thin air,

dream manifests.

In the sunlight,

the notes in the dust

Always played this in sunlight,

I still hit like a child

Portishead

Oh, newish modern torch songs,  

itching through the scratched up record

And blue sound cigarette smoke 

after cigarette smoke

when things were younger,

with our cool green walls

So many times the words 

slide by, like Rita Hayworth's silver dress 

and faceless men pull guns on nameless tracks

in lyrics now, like whispering

I'm so damn tired of playing

into the spyfilm dark

She's singing,  burning smoke and glass

She's drinking, long and bloody mouth

Give me a reason to love you