#1
there's treacle in the eyes
tastes like your bad advice
and the eagle's devised
a plan to leave through the back

stuck to the underfoot
in simple tones you put
me proper in my place
a little to left of the narrative

remind me how we used to hold
our hands up to
that real rocking tune
and if we ever caught ourselves
up in the interlude
that we'd dignify the mood
by being very bad

you slips and slide the regret
with a nonchalant energy
the eagle's lurking in the gutter
the night begins to bark

there's blips up on your radar
the silhouette that shudders in
to view outside your bedroom
and bursts through your temples

is this what you meant'll be fun?

remind me how we used to hold
our hands up to
that real rocking tune
and if we ever caught ourselves
up in the interlude
that we'd dignify the mood
by breaking out

the sounds...

ahhh, ahhh
ahhh, ahhh

she sat up on the rattle-door and shattered all the plans
with her attempt to be a matador and scupper upyourstan
she was a murky-dirty-buckle girl with rough and ready hands
served up on a platter battle-stanced and walnut-tanned

with sounds like...

ahhh
ahhh
ahhh
ahhh


#2
this is a great example of prose getting in the way of the poetry, so to speak. it feels like everything is trying to be academic and expressive instead of just expressing. i didn't like the rhymes and most of the phrases didn't flow well; the images felt random and disjointed. the only real part i could latch onto was the very last stanza, which had some redeeming qualities in comparison to the rest. but overall, i really didn't like this. it falls on its face too much for my taste.

now, that being said, i'm not saying that what you have written here wasn't intentional, as i assume it was; and if so, then my dislike is of personal taste. but i didn't feel anything reading this; what you were trying to express was lost behind the myriad of odd phrases, forced rhymes, and disjointed images. for me anyway.

hope i'm not being too much of a hard-ass