Here is no myth..

[Benjamin]

Here is no myth, no anvil for an ancient

limping god: but night teemed slag that splits

the air in two. Vivid bursts of orange

fire, that paint the base of moon topped cloud,

then dwindle as each stroke is pacified.

And flakes of sparkling graphite waft inside

the galleries of eerie mills; fall constantly

past halogen haloes of cruel light.

The boom and roar of background noise prevails

and burnt coke gases climb through twisted air.

Giants in the rooftops shift and shake

the steel-clad heights. Grumbling and then rumbling

with their liquid tonnes of ladled steel.

Figures of men, fiendishly dressed, work on

around the clock and curse each passing day

with fine grey dust that falls on everything.

 

And in the town their inept siblings, strive

so hard for individuality,

yet they all still end up looking just the same.

Scurrying about their busy ways:

ubiquitous cell-phones cupped onto ears,

where eye-contact at all cost is avoided.

Young and old, all old under the skin...

Fast-food outlets ply eclectic wares

among the pub infested streets, and music

pounds from passing open-windowed cars.

Refuse-disposal trucks beep through the alleys:

tilt up in exultation to the gods

as though to claim their immortality.

Then shrink back flaccidly... accept a lot

much more befitting of this modern age,

with fine grey dust that falls on everything.

[dcmarti1]

Oh, wow:

 

burnt coke gases climb through twisted air

 

So vivid it is amost disturbing. And this:

 

tilt up in exultation to the gods

as though to claim their immortality.

 

Garbage trucks! Love the dichotomy.

 

Oh, and of course I LOVE the repeating end line. Call me formulaic, but it strengthens the tone.

[Benjamin]

Thanks marti: The romance of Hephaestus and his ilk are a far cry from the engine rooms of modern living.

[dr_con]

Stunning Geoff! This is a fine, fine piece, its immediacy is well crafted, its message clear, although, I would argue It is a Myth reinvented, redacted and as you say, reduced to a fine white powder;-) It inspired my 'Grand Jury' poem, but as so many of my poems do, I started with a sentence you helped me hear, and then the poem became something else entirely! ;-)

 

Well done;-)

 

Juris

[Benjamin]

Thanks Juris: this has evolved from an experiment with assonance, sibilance and alliteration into what I'd hoped would be an imaginative spoken piece. Geoff.