When plastic people say we’re dead

I taste the chaos in our bread
a shared disaster – but it’s mine
when plastic people say we’re dead
your alabaster skin will shine
we’re flying higher altitudes
in forceful songs from riverbeds
hear graphic voice of gratitude
from zombie-masters that you’ve bred

Edward Hopper 1922

Edward Hopper 1922

Linked to Sunday whirl and Magpie Tales, and I only partly understand the poem I have written…

May 18, 2014

28 responses to “When plastic people say we’re dead

  1. Love it nonetheless! A silver clad gimp whispered the meaning into a scone and I was in the vicinity!

  2. I like how the first line and last line end with bread/bred. It gives it a nice feeling of completion. Also, seems your poem speaks of gender roles within a relationship. Although the bread is shared, it belongs to the speaker. This hints to Man as the provider. The woman has her role too, however it is more aesthetic. Her looks are the asset. Interesting, interesting!

  3. I have used the expression: “plastic person” occasionally to describe an individual that I feel has no soul and no depth (they are out there and, I fear, their numbers are swelling). Thus your title really resonated with me. I liked this piece – perhaps a little dark, though no darker (and certainly not nearly as chilling) than plastic people are.

  4. This is what I imagine–society has created this plastic breed that are really just zombies eating up the real people who are complicit in this chaos because they wanted the perfect alabaster of higher altitudes. The forceful songs are the happy faces they put on–the graphic gratitudes the roar of the darkness eating it all away. . .love it!

  5. dang…nice…the opening gambit is really good…i also like the contrast between the plastic people and the alabaster…real people tend to get chewed up in this world…

  6. I so like that first line, “I taste the chaos in our bread” – it has such a surreal quality to it, and I also like that you’ve ended with “bred” but because it almost reflects the chaos initially found with the loss of the “a” – probably unintended, but a nice effect anyways!

  7. I got images of people growing old together, going away together. The best part is – they shared the disaster – together. 🙂

  8. Pingback: Suggestion Saturday: May 24, 2014 | On The Other Hand·

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