Concentration

[punkpixie]

And like the ghosts they shave our heads,
So we walk in time to the buzzsaw,
While the rain wets all our beds.

With feline cries they round us up,
Our bare feet bite the snow,
There’s a fire for every tin cup.

As mice in the trap we squeal,
And they tell us to shut up,
Talk to the big cheese over a meal.

Production increases with the smell,
Let’s imagine it’s the birch,
They are never going to tell.

Orders sound like barbed wire,
Their guns rule the roost
And shots climb slowly higher.

The classical tune hangs on the sky,
While we fight pyjamas and sleep,
And this eternal, burning lullaby.

[punkpixie]

Has no-one got anything to say about this one? Comments are greatly appreciated, good or bad.

[gmc14]

The 3rd line talks about rain, in the fifth line its snow. I Don't know why ghosts shave people's heads. Perhaps its too 'complex' for me or something but I didn't read passed the 6th line and it didn't make any sense.

[thefalloutgirl]

And like the ghosts they shave our heads,

i think they're shaving our heads, similar to the military.

it's my favorite line of the poem. when i read this, i got this totally insane picture in my head of mice in line, with pyjamas on and garbage cans on fire, in the background. it's awesome for both the writer and reader the to be able to envision what you read. nice one ;)

[punkpixie]

If I tell you what it's about it will make more sense. I went on a school history trip to Poland and we visited the Aushwitz concentration camp. It's about the holocaust basically, the trip inspired me to write it.

[punkpixie]

Anyone else?