An ode to the bricks

i have been looking for this one, and am glad i found it. one of my favorites, writen while i should have been studying for art history :)

Bricks and more bricks, they are stacked like slaves

Begging for one more slice of bread and the clock

Face is weathered and does not give a damn about

The starving bricks, and in walks a man with

Red shoes to replace the clock, but unfortunately

He also doesnt give a damn about the starving bricks

And so they die and have been dead

for 26 ½ years, along with the walls and the floor

and in fact, the entire building is dead and it has

no ghost to wail and bring it company.

The clouds do not cry, they are not virgin,

They only give us rain because they pity us

And we are eternally pitiful because we

Are wet with the rain and it never ends.

I broke into a stride and tried to escape the machine

That tells me I am beautiful just the way I am,

But I cannot run faster than hot metal which is

Yearning for my blood, my fears, my beliefs.

The world eats me one tiny bite at a time

And when it finally eats my eyes I will stop fighting.

Seagulls mock airplanes and the

Airplanes mock the seagulls and we draw pictures

Of the seagulls and the airplanes and

We mock God and he is angry.

The chairs have swallowed the audience

And the singer sings alone and is not heard

By anyone except a camera that no one is watching.

We all sleep during the lecture and the man is

Talking to himself and we steal his notebook

And when he is done speaking he realizes that he never

Needed his notes and we have finally, for once in our

Miserable lives, done some good.

And the hallways continue and the doors

Remain unopened for however long it

Takes us to watch our television program.

Stare down the bleak corridors of

Perfect white and the perfect lights

And the perfect keyholes, signs to us that

We do not belong here.

The good boys stand still with do not enter

Signs over their eyes and they smile

Completely oblivious to the w****s and

Crooked men and the guns they hold in their pure hands.

A tornado is about to eat the roof off of your home,

But its ok because you got your 42 inch flat screen toaster

Hooked up to a generator so you can watch the discovery channel

In your basement and keep your children educated.

We spend billions of dollars on research learning

How to piss off the universe with our garbage

And our puny satellites and our radio waves

And when the sky finally breaks in half and dies

Our sons and our daughters will say

Why is the sky falling, mommy and daddy?

And each and every one of us will be rendered speechless

We will not be able to answer.

Reviews

[Larry Dyson]

try working on these phrases....potential here...."Thoughts on writing...phrases…

Bricks and more bricks, they are stacked like slaves
Begging for one more slice of bread
The starving bricks
noghost to wail and bring them company.

The clouds do not cry, they are not virgin,
They only give us rain because they pity us
And we are eternally pitiful because we
Are wet with the rain and it never ends.

The chairs have swallowed the audience
And the singer sings alone and is not heard

Perfect white corridors and the perfect lights
perfect keyholes,
becoming signs to us that ,
We do not belong here.
good boys standing still with do not enter
signs over their eyes and smiling,
absolutely oblivious to the w****s and
crooked men, with the guns they hold in their pure hands."