Would you cover red rage with a pale poisoned page
Would you spite a bold blue or be brave if you knew
If I wanted to shiver in a deep green guilt
Would you hold my hand or find a thick quilt
Lewis starts his collection boldly, penning his emotions with a heavy stroke. I like that, I can understand visceral rage much more easily than faint feelings hidden behind rhyme. This is not a pretty collection that you can sigh over and enjoy the words. This is something else entirely.
As the rotten mornings succeed the dirty nights
The blotted carpets by spilt cheap wine
The pouring ashtrays birth a stench like poverty
The passed out louts the curry dregs
The floor is filled with sleeping strangers
Yet it is clever. Love Squared, Chemistry Failing and Darwen Cleansed were three that I particularly enjoyed, feeling the imagery behind the lines.
Lewis has an intensity to his verse, a rhythm that is akin to slam poetry, an angry beat that punctuates each line. It’s very similar to song. Or rap. Perhaps.
I’m alone in this city
I’ve coiled from fame
And sprung to celibacy
I am a chest of chastity
But by no means by choice
Whisked from a wild wilderness
I used to scream sorcery
If you want to read poetry about nature or the sweetness of love, I would not read this. If you want to feel the jagged edge, and smell the burnt rubber of regret, this is your collection. It’s incisive, strong and determined. I recommend and award 4.5 stars.
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