Play song while reading the poem..
then listen again and again and again.........
City Of Tortured Souls
by Mark and The Material Objects
song by my friend Mark that inspired this write.....
bone shaking, dynamite song with the greatest
scream I've ever heard in rock.......
and this is Mark..
the screamer, composer and singer of the song
the screamer, composer and singer of the song
...
The Long Neon Night
Lights
Blink....
On.
Off.
On.
Off.
Red,
Then
Yellow,
Red,
Then
Yellow.
Hissing neon
Crackling
In the midnight
Hitting me in the face
Between lightning bolts
And the drum roll
Of deep, black thunder.
Can't shut it out
It peeks there
Through the curtains
One inch short of closing
Taunting me with advertisements
Of a better life
Found somewhere down below
In a happy hour bar.
This bed
Is my hell.
This bed
Is my sanctuary.
I can't leave it
It won't let me.
See how it holds me
In it's dirty sheets?
It's comforter
That gives no comfort?
It's pillows scented
With a thousand other heads?
Over and over
I have this
Dream
Every night
From dusk till dawn
The screaming rising
From sun deprived streets
Up, up to my window
Desolate voices calling
Pleading, asking for things
I cannot give them
And do not want to hear.
Then your face appears
And I exalt
In momentary joy
As you hover there
Bathed in red neon waters
Beckoning to me
From the top of another
Mildewed motel.
You're always smiling
At least, until
The fake yellow neon sun
Shows you for what you are.
Down the hall to the left
There's a guy always
Playing the blues
On his guitar
The walls tremble with it
The rodents sing harmony
And the residents curse
And bang on the ceiling
In rhythm to the song
For a moment or two
There's silence.......
And the song begins again.
I no longer know
Which is the dream
And which is my life
I don't know
How long I've lain here
When I checked in
Or if I'll check out
I don't know
If you ever truly loved me
Or if I made you up
Like some madman's apparition.
Flashes
Of waking perception
Make me catch my breath
Sit upright,
And reach out to the empty void
That stretches around the room
Down the hall
And back to me
Carrying nothing
But snippets
Of the blues man's song
And mourning
From the dying day.
Then...
I sleep
Again.
Hear the screams,
Feel the fear,
Touch the terror,
Taste the tangible,
Smell the soured milk smell
Of love that lived
And withered like a mushroom
In a corner
Of a room
Under a bed
In a thirty story building
On a street that's always crying
In a city of
Tortured souls.
Blink....
On.
Off.
On.
Off.
Red
Then
Yellow
Red
Then
Yellow
Blink.
Blink.
Blink.
©by Voo, words, images
and Mark, music, face
Feb 20, 08 midnight
