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
Linked to Sunday whirl and Magpie Tales, and I only partly understand the poem I have written…
—
May 18, 2014

Love it nonetheless! A silver clad gimp whispered the meaning into a scone and I was in the vicinity!
Reblogged this on stgreenie.
Well let me explain it then! its dark dark dark – but reads and sounds a touch like the fabulous lyrics of a David Bowie song.
I agree!
Important topic, nicely phrased with powerful rhymes. Thank you.
. . . only partly understand, he, he, he, that’s how I am with mine most of the time. 🙂
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!
Oh .. but the woman control everything with her zombie masters … so the man just think he’s in control 🙂
‘we’re flying higher altitudes in forceful songs from riverbeds’ ~ love the majesty of these lines.
Chaos in bread a shared disaster..ouch..this one has a bitter taste but, you pulled it off well.
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.
Great to have hopes and aspirations of a loved one! Great write Bjorn!
Hank
How well this piece reads.
I, like the other comment, only partly understood that piece, but it flowed well. —Susan
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!
This is simply wonderful… Vet inte vad jag kan säga mer än det! *ler*
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…
A new world order..chaos is everywhere..hard to make sense of..although teasing it out In words helps..
Marvelous opening line…very much enjoyed…
Whoa! What an excellent poem, Bjorn.
Pamela
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!
I would prefer NOT to eat chaos with my bread!
This is another fine piece of work ,sir!!
“I taste the chaos in the bread,” is such a great line, Bjorn–very cool. Thanks. k.
I got images of people growing old together, going away together. The best part is – they shared the disaster – together. 🙂
what can I say that the others haven’t…? Man – you’re a genius!
Neat musical rhymes making the whole piece worth rereading. And isn’t blame a terrible thing?
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