Moving Down the Line
Moving Down the Line
Walking now,
Walking head down –
Close to host of ghost like
State,
Yet only around the tired
Wooden floors of a rented home
As I’m placed unwittingly under
House arrest and I detest this
Passing of a wasted time,
Blinded by grey while
Rain slashes harsh upon
Another faded town.
Tick-Toc shouts the clock!
Stopping only to see if I acknowledge
Its presence, no other sound to break
A guilty wall of silence
And violent;
I await the crack and thump
From a gun with lust; a shot
To slave a thousand screams
Tired from their pleas.
I cry within,
The din of distant
Drum muffled – seemingly
Altogether out of reach and speech
Checked upon a warring nation,
I’m touched by how the people bruise
Through the wrangle of a rational
That mangles every intellect,
Torture by a system using
Technology as its tool.
I can feel HMP Britannia
Seething underneath and I look
To the floor whilst agitated on
My feet,
Dancing like a zombie,
Dancing like a zombie as my iris
And my pupil disappear revealing
Shells like moons daubed by blood
And I’m shocked, this desolate of
Substrata, a Biosphere where the
Silent Orchestra drop their arms,
Let the songs of saints fall dispassionately
To the ground and like I,
Roll their eyes behind the back of mind.
Soulful tunes are broken,
Stolen,
Dead!
Dead!
Dead!
Then I wait upon the march of
Time to be taken like a shadow
In the line,
Taken like the next
And the next
And the next.
And I feel,
Internment camps bursting
At the seams from those once alive,
Waiting patiently the cull,
And there’s just
Nothing left,
Nothing left,
Nothing.
Michael J Waite 28th September 2009 0155hrs.
<Deleted User> (5812)
Sun 11th Oct 2009 13:35
Hi Mike, your recording blew me away. i have read much of your work, and have been moved by your anger, sadness, love, injustice - the whole range of emotions really...but only through my own voice and intonation. listening, after reading first, added so much more for me in many ways. haunting x