This is a poem, not a song at all. It is a poem called poem (how original!). There's two parts split clean in half.

POEM                     

If a poem is a poem, a song must be a song,
And if a song's a poem, then the poem's wrong,

The words upon the parchment, the letters on the page,
The monster in the basement, is locked inside the cage,

The cage is like a prizon, a cell within a cell,
The monster in the basement, is crying out for help,

A shadow of a shadow, a presence on the wall,
A scream becomes a whisper, when no-one hears the call,

The rain against the window, you're pressed against the floor,
A shadow of a footstep, creeps underneath the door,

The sound of muffled voices, the footsteps down the hall,
The ever lurking presence, The ear against the wall,

The thrashing of the thunder, that echoes in your ears,
The sound that makes you whimper, that plays upon your fears,

The dripping of some water, in the kitchen sink,
It isn't reassuring, it really makes you think,

The monster in the poem, that's written on the page,
That doesn't really murder, or fall into a rage,

The words upon the paper, are words we use again,
That play into a poem, that play into a pen,
                                                                                                  
The words upon a poet, are words upon themselves,
They print themselves in hardback, they sit upon the shelves,

The fire in the corner, it creeps across the room,
And dances on the spines, of books foretelling doom,

The image of a portrait, hangs above the fire,
Most sinister of fathers, is nothing but a liar,

The tree outside the window, casts shadows on the wall,
The darkness ever growing, has come to claim us all,

The frightening white of lightning, the flash across the sky,
The freshly painted message, that tells your time to die,

The window shatters inward, a rock lay on the floor,
The rain leaks through the ceiling, and seeps beneath the door,

The monster in your poem, is sharpening his knife,
The words etched in the paper, are soon to come to life,

Your heart is pounding quickly, your head is pounding slow,
The sound of echoed laughter, will follow where you go,

There is the sound of footsteps, a knocking at the door,
You fear the close attention, you don't want anymore,

The poem is completed, your stomach takes a turn,
The crumpled bit of paper, lay in the fire to burn.
                                                                                                   

There! A poem called poem. What do you think? Please tell, as I do not write poetry often, and this was a one off stab at it.

Cheers!

WB

< / shakespeare >

Really like it, though I do hear it read!
It's so full of images and so simple and quick.

I believe that this would work -very- well for spoken word. Even if all you had was something simple like a few chords, it could be very nice. But yes, as for what is written, well done.

Thanks for the comments. I'm glad you like it. I tried before to sing/speak it to a couple of chords, it might sound alright for the spoken poetry part, but for a song it wouldn't have much musical flair. Thanks again for the comments, glad to find it's not too 'all over the place'.

Cheers!

WB

I would honestly like to disagree with you!
As you wrote it wasn't a song to start with I was surprised to find how I was 'singing' my way along, it has such  simple imagery, simple as in the singer can enact the story!

Last night after I commented here I went to the audio review and listened to MaxBs Ghost song, and put both of them together immediately, I've just noticed that MaxB likes the idea, I definitely do, just have to find the time to do it!

I see the differences between the two halves, so they are different!

there's alot of really swellegant imagery here...
it reminded me of my piece 'Each and Every' structure wise
so it was fairly easy to put it to a melody in my head...

although i think the opening lines are catchy i would tend to disagree
about poems and songs...