The Brink

[Boss]

The brink is here
You may not notice
Wrapped in your fine wine
television
and all
But it calls to you
Moments fall away
The days are few
You could count them in your head
But you don't see

Governments spew insanity
There are no shrinks
for this illness
They bicker and joust
Call the shots
on your behalf
Threatening my dog
In their confused little worlds
Where Alice isn't in Wonderland
She's out getting a fix
Or selling her integrity
for fifty bucks
And the game continues
Broken lovers fake it
Broken poets weep

Yes we're on the brink
The clock won't wind back
Your guru's done a runner
And it's all "Go fuck yourself, Charlie!"
Learned men don't tolerate experience
especially pain
The religious anaesthetize themselves
in comforting fantasy
And they still go shooting in 4WD's
Still go shopping for nothing in particular

[Fljotsdale]

Not sure about this.

I think I understand the sentiments expressed, but I find it far too pessimistic: no leaven of humour or possibility of hope.

Other than that, I think it's a pretty good poem - except the last verse is a little awkward on the tongue (I always read a new poem aloud to see how it works, because I know from experience that what seems perfect to the poet isn't always so to the reader!)

[woody]

this is interesting... to start with i wasn't sure but then i began reading it in bukowski's voice in my head and in parts it seemed perfect. angry stuff, performance piece.
how many times poetry has been altered by knoweldge of the writer and particuarly his manour of speech- buck, ginsberg, cohen etc.

[Fljotsdale]

Yes, quite true, Woody. Hearing Cohen's voice reading his poetry makes it much more personal - besides which, you then know exactly how it sounds - how the lines 'work'.

But sometimes it's better not to know how the poet himself reads it!

T S Eliot, for instance, read his poetry in a flat monotone. Ugh. Deadly.