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Welcome !	Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link	29-May 15:32:12 AEST

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Array ( [sid] => 94507 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Desire Cubed [time] => 2005-05-15 21:06:03 [hometext] => [bodytext] => It's like 1984.
You work a job,
but you don't know what it's for.
You go home,
to a family that's become a chore.
You sleep, you eat,
you sweat, you keep
what's just enough to get you by.
And that's all right.
That's the life you chose,
it's the way things go,
at least you keep telling yourself so.
She's a pair of eyes in an elevator,
a sexual harassment suit in a nice sweater
longing for your love letter
behind the bitter facade of one who knows better.
Pass her by like a causal passer by
you give it one last try to catch her eye,
to let her know your willing to break the rules.
In your glance, you forsake your family,
if there's a chance to be a little happy,
you'd end the world to catch her eye.
The doors close to the sounds of thunder
leaving your mind to cry and wonder
if you could ever break the mold,
break out of the cubicle, out of the box,
out of the sun and into the cold.
Orwell's got us pegged as the mindless dregs
who scoff at the freedom of the proliterate.
They feed off of each other's desires
in a barbaric tide of carnal want.
It's the passion with feeling for a change,
that makes him want what he hasn't got. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 157 [topic] => 22 [informant] => CodyJ [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => LostLove )

Desire Cubed

Contributed by CodyJ on Sunday, 15th May 2005 @ 09:06:03 PM in AEST
Topic: LostLove

It's like 1984.
You work a job,
but you don't know what it's for.
You go home,
to a family that's become a chore.
You sleep, you eat,
you sweat, you keep
what's just enough to get you by.
And that's all right.
That's the life you chose,
it's the way things go,
at least you keep telling yourself so.
She's a pair of eyes in an elevator,
a sexual harassment suit in a nice sweater
longing for your love letter
behind the bitter facade of one who knows better.
Pass her by like a causal passer by
you give it one last try to catch her eye,
to let her know your willing to break the rules.
In your glance, you forsake your family,
if there's a chance to be a little happy,
you'd end the world to catch her eye.
The doors close to the sounds of thunder
leaving your mind to cry and wonder
if you could ever break the mold,
break out of the cubicle, out of the box,
out of the sun and into the cold.
Orwell's got us pegged as the mindless dregs
who scoff at the freedom of the proliterate.
They feed off of each other's desires
in a barbaric tide of carnal want.
It's the passion with feeling for a change,
that makes him want what he hasn't got.

Copyright © CodyJ ... [ 2005-05-15 21:06:03]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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Re: Desire Cubed (User Rating: 1 )
by liquidsunshine on Monday, 23rd May 2005 @ 06:03:17 PM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

Beautifully crafted, my friend.
I wasn't really sure where you were going with this once I read the first line, but I ended up liking it.
Great title, too... quite intriguing.

And to answer your question on my poem:
Timpany is a kind of drum... it really can sound like thunder sometimes and was often used to create such an effect in Romantic and Classical music.

Lots of love and peace,

Chelsea

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