The dusk of smog suffuses through decay
In Salford's dismal desolated streets
A wilderness where sombre shadows play
The factory shell reverberates the beats
Majestic sounds transcend this lonely place
The spectacle that dares you peer inside
Tentacles of smoke that creep through space
Hide gaunt and haunted faces hynoptised
Shamanic snare drum stark and syncopating
Bassline hook that weaves through metronome
The strobe strikes flesh and bone white oscillating
Mutating maelstrom moves in monochrome
Here are the young men. In a trance
The sweat and spit that wash away the pain
Amphetamine. Disorder in the dance
And love.
Love will tear us apart again
Confusion in his eyes. He's lost control
The music urgent. Vibrant. Violent frames
The fame. The fear. The fits. They take their toll.
A moth that flies and flickers in the flames
Concrete. Concourse. Confused. Urban sprawl
Pebbledashed. Prefabricated hope
Shards of glass and dreams in high rise fall
Disintegration dangling from a rope
Northern grim reality of 'The Dirty Old Town'and peppered alliteration amplifies the torrid beat leading to the gaunt wild giant of despair. The disintegration in the full glare ends the horrific vision and darkness.
ReplyDeleteThanks ever so much for the comment. I tend to publish the poem and then tweak, so there's a few changes since your critique. In fact I changed the last line from "inspiration" to "disintegration" based on your comment, which is a much better end and makes me much more satisfied with the end, so thanks a million! cheers.
ReplyDeleteJust a note on this poem. I was a bit nervous about posting as I don't want to appear to glorify the tragic demise of Ian Curtis. I've been a fan of JD and NO for many years. The JD stuff fascinates me because it has such an ethereal and austere quality that seems to perfectly fit the grim urban north of the 1970s. Anton Corbijn's Control was shot in black and white and there are many enduring images of the band on Manchester motorway bridges shot in black and white. What I'm trying to capture is that grimness, but also the contradiction that their music was both an escape from that as well as drawing you into it.
ReplyDeleteI've tried to interweave a couple of lyrics into the poem and song titles to tip my hat to the band and I've tried to capture the nightmarish images that they toyed with. There are 8 references to JD songs in total!. In the end, Curtis's suicide was such a bitterly poignant end for a songwriter who gave us Unknown Pleasures and Closer (and Still.)