In the year man invented brick,
and the quick setting cement
that hardened in his heart,
his properties became fixed and calculated,
he looked to his brother with a meaner eye,
used the rope to mark and measure,
ten years work for twenty leisure.
He cordoned to appropriate,
placing laws decorating all extremities of land,
and still expanding, bought portions of cloud,
to seal in huge wrap- a- rounds.
Sold them into deserts, making dams that held the flood
stirring thickening vapors through gigantic pools of mud.
Made the blood red bricks ,built the half baked towns
with which all deserts now abound, and man saw that it was good.
6 Oct 06
Rated 9 (6) by 2 users.
Active (2): 8, 10
Inactive (3): 1, 1, 9
(define the words in this poem)
(654 more poems by this author)
Add A Comment:
This is excellent - the metaphor of the brick for industrialisation and 'change' to mechanisation etc; 'half-baked towns' is fantastic. The biblical analogy at the end is excellent - shows how humankind make their own self-interested rules and then ascribe them to some higher power. Truly allusive poetry.
Thanks unknown. Your analysis is pretty much spot on.
You are an amazing writer. I don't even need to make all these my favorites. I'll just remember your user name. Like most of your writing, I don't understand all of it, but I understand L1-7 & L12-15. That's good enough for me. You probably hear this all the time, but you are very talented. I am so glad you submit to this site.
Can you change line 6 to mark and measure?
line 14, space between word and comma?
This is clever, snappy and intelligent.
Is cordoned enough or should it be cordoned off? I'll investigate for my own curiosity. Oh, we always say our own stuff is "very good," don't we?
This poem is.
A little flattery goes a long way
Thanks for the suggestions which i have implemented. Your pretty snappy smart and intelligent yourself.
Larry slap a back Lark
Jeez... this conjurs up politics and the disaster in New Orleans...
Were you going for that?
this is really a great poem.
I wasn't thinking of the New Orleans disaster when i wrote this. Its just that i have a thing about a famous make of brick which is shiny bright red and the poem started out as honouring this brick which is called Accrington, after the name of the town in NE Lancashire from where it originated, Many houses in this locality are adorned with its distinctive colour,. However it seemed to transmorph into some sort of pean about the condition of man so i went with the flow. Thanks once more for your comment.
Larry the hod Lark