I would honestly argue that Annie Lennox is one of the greatest poets of our time, and as an example of evidence of this I would present the court of public opinion the lyrics to the song cold:


Come to me, run to me
Do and be done with me
(Cold cold cold)
Don't I exist for you
Don't I still live for you
(Cold cold cold)
Everything I possess
Given with tenderness
Wrapped in a ribbon of glass
Time it may take us but God only knows
How I've paid for those things in the past

Dying is easy
It's living that scares me to death
I could be so content
Hearing the sound of your breath

Cold is the color of crystal the snow light
That falls from the heavenly skies
Catch me and let me dive under
For I want to swim in the pools of your eyes

I want to be with you baby
Slip me inside of your heart
Don't I belong to you baby
Don't you know that nothing can tear us apart
Come on now come on now come on now
Telling you that
I loved you right from the start,
But the more I want you the less I get
Ain't that just the way things are

Winter has frozen us
Let love take hold of us
(Cold cold cold)
Now we are shivering
Blue ice is glittering
(Cold cold cold)

Cold is the color of crystal the snow light
That falls from the heavenly skies
Catch me and let me dive under
For I want to swim in the pools of your eyes

https://youtu.be/xi19gH6_waE

Wow... That one I did not see coming! I'm stunned. You can hardly tell this is a song. It's a poem! Especially the last four lines! Wow! Incredible! ?
Thanks for bringing it out into the light Jason!

Did you watch the video??

When the lyric is separated from the music, the lyric, too often, sounds utterly banal. It even happened to Cole Porter.

'Swim in the pools of your eyes.' 'Nothing can tear us apart.' Falls from the heavenly skies.'
Lennox has an enduring voice, but she needs a better lyric than this.

She should read Theodore Roethke, Leonard Cohen or Emily Dickinson.

What one has to do as a writer is to define a moment in time, then make that moment in time, eternal - without using trite phrases or purple prose.

Many young first year writing students could write a better lyric.

Oh don't get me wrong, there are better. Although I suppose it depends on unit of measurement.
If we were to measure, "One of the best," say in £ sterling? I would imagine Annie would be coming pretty near the to the top of the list.
But of course we're not.
For me, there are always, "Better," in the world, but for now, I don't think Annie Lennox will be in any rush to change them.

My son said, "How do you make money from poetry?"
I answered, "Set it to music son, set it to music."?

But seriously, most of our successful modern day poets are song writers, (and personally, I wouldn't change a single syllable of this beautiful song).?

J.

Of course then there's one my all time favourites, Tom Waits. Now there is a poet!?

Tom Traubert’s Blues (Four Sheets to the Wind in Copenhagen)
Tom Waits


Wasted and wounded, it ain't what the moon did
Got what I paid for now
See ya tomorrow, hey Frank can I borrow
A couple of bucks from you?
To go waltzing Mathilda, waltzing Mathilda
You'll go a-waltzing Mathilda with me
I'm an innocent victim of a blinded alley
And tired of all these soldiers here
No one speaks English and everything's broken
And my Stacys are soaking wet
To go waltzing Mathilda, waltzing Mathilda
You'll go a-waltzing Mathilda with me
Now the dogs are barking and the taxi cab's parking
A lot they can do for me
I begged you to stab me, you tore my shirt open
And I'm down on my knees tonight
Old Bushmill's I staggered, you buried the dagger
Your silhouette window light
To go waltzing Mathilda, waltzing Mathilda
You'll go a-waltzing Mathilda with me
Now I lost my Saint Christopher now that I've kissed her
And the one-armed bandit knows
And the maverick Chinaman and the cold-blooded signs
And the girls down by the strip-tease shows
Go, waltzing Mathilda, waltzing Mathilda
You'll go a-waltzing Mathilda with me
No, I don't want your sympathy
The fugitives say that the streets aren't for dreaming now
Manslaughter dragnets and the ghosts that sell memories
They want a piece of the action anyhow
Go, waltzing Mathilda, waltzing Mathilda
You'll go a-waltzing Mathilda with me
And you can ask any sailor and the keys from the jailor
And the old men in wheelchairs know
That Mathilda's the defendant, she killed about a hundred
And she follows wherever you may go
Waltzing Mathilda, waltzing Mathilda
You'll go a-waltzing Mathilda with me
And it's a battered old suitcase to a hotel someplace
And a wound that will never heal
No prima donna, the perfume is on
An old shirt that is stained with blood and whiskey
And goodnight to the street sweepers
The night watchman flame keepers and goodnight, Mathilda too

i wouldn't pay Alan Pascoe too much mind, Jason. The only time he shows his colors around here is when he is being condescending in some way, shape, or form.

He's a lot like Steven Waling in that aspect: both truly believe they are experts at being "elitist writers."

Here's a tip: If it walks like a duck, quacks like a duck, then chances are it is not a platypus.

William,

You should read the jazz journalist and musician, Benny Green.

Try not to use cliches. Read Joseph Brodsky. Value language and ideas.

Learn something beyond your own prejudice.



Jason

Tom Waits - What a talent. What a voice.

Gentlemen, thank you for the advice, I remain endebted, smiling and as ever, make my own mind up about the things I like and the things I don't. And whilst Leonard Cohen is also a personal favourite I still find the lyrics of, "Cold," both moving and entirely perfect considering the context.

The broader point is that most of us in modern life have to search for the "classics," but the majority of poetry we hear these days is in the form of music, and that, I think, is undeniable.?

J. x

P.S. I've always loved the duck analogy ?

J.

Wow! Where have I been all this time? Yes, Tom Waits! Incredible. He's kinda like a fiend, like a mystic, pagan creature, with that goatee of his and the triangular face... Like a faun.... Maybe he's one of Pan's minions, a wandering bard singing rhapsodies!
"I like my town with a little drop of poison, nobody knows they're lining up to go insane."
Strange mysterious rugged man comes into town, sits at the end of the bar sipping rotgut alone...He observes in silence, then whispers one word and before you know it a rocus breaks, things are stirred up, feuds revive ... brawl! The townies jump at each other's throats, by morning they will have ripped each other apart, all hell breaks loose as he staggers off singing cruel, sarcastic rhymes into the breeze and disappears into the night leaving nothing but his empty stout glass turned on its side, spinning on top of the ebony counter of the watering hole! Nice dark atmosphere!
Yes, I watched the video Jason! Very theatric! And that's good and bad at the same time! It's an awesome video clip. But all the theatrics and the direction take the focus off of the poetry, in the end to me it's just a ballad. A "tune"! But I have to disagree with Alan. When you take the music and the video clip away and really read the lyrics you discover they're poetry! And surely some parts of the song are not that poetic, but it's a song after all!
It's true, poetry is not exactly a fad right now but you do find gems in songs! And may I say that I personally take references and various influences from songs, mostly jazz, the blues, rock and soul, even God help me beep-bop! Who can argue with " Bewitched, bothered and bewildered" or "Delightful, delicious,
de-lovely!" ? Aren't they legit alliteration and rhythm phenomena?
Sometimes the music brings the words out but in my opinion it usually overshadows them, not doing them justice. You don't really pay attention to the lyrics until you strip them of the melody. And I find sweet nice poetic words in the most unexpected songs too: some may be considered corny... I won't give any examples, I wouldn't want to give away my guilty pleasures ? But yes Jason I think you are right!
That's all from me!

Quack, quack to you all,
and to all quack quack ?

'Night gentlemen!?

Yep.... made me "snort laugh" again.
You really should stop doing that, I was drinking coffee this time ???.

J. x

Ouch! I hope it wasn't hot!??

Doesn't matter, it was worth it, you quack me up?

J. x

Haha! ? ok, with this conversation in my head I'll be giggling to myself all day!

And honestly, tell me this isn't poetic..


Say Hello Wave Goodbye.

(By Soft Cell. Although I prefer the David Gray version)


Standin' at the door of the Pink Flamingo cryin' in the rain,
It was a kind of so-so love
And I'm gonna make sure it doesn't happen again,
You and I had to be the standing joke of the year,
You were a runaround, a lost and found and not for me, I feel,
Take your hands off me, hey,
I don't belong to you, you see,
And take a look in my face, for the last time,
I never knew you, you never knew me,
Say hello goodbye,
Say hello and wave goodbye
We tried to make it work, you in a cocktail skirt
And me in a suit but it just wasn't me,
You're used to wearing less,
And now your life's a mess, so insecure you see,
I put up with all the scenes,
This is one scene that's goin' to be played my way
Take your hands off me, hey,
I don't belong to you, you see,
And take a look in my face, for the last time,
I never knew you, you never knew me,
Say hello goodbye,
Say hello and wave goodbye
Say hello and wave goodbye
Under the deep red light
I can see the make-up slidin' down,
Well, hey little girl you will always make up
So take off that unbecoming frown,
As for me, well, I'll find someone
Who's not goin' cheap in the sales,
A nice little housewife, who'll give me a steady life
And not keep going off the rails,
Take your hands off me, hey,
I don't belong to you, you see,
And take a look in my face, for the last time,
I never knew you, you never knew me,
Say hello goodbye,
Say hello and wave goodbye
Say hello and wave goodbye
Say hello and wave goodbye
Wave goodbye
Say hello and wave goodbye
Say hello, wave goodbye
Goodbye
Say goodbye
Say goodbye
We were born before the wind
Who are we to understand
We were born before the wind
Say goodbye
Through the rain, hail, sleet, and snow
Say goodbye
Get on the train, the train, the train
Say goodbye
Say goodbye
Say goodbye
Say goodbye
In the wind and the rain now darling
Say goodbye
In the wind and the rain now darling

It's a bit long but so worth it....

https://youtu.be/-bzdrabPpRE

SO SO good! I had never heard of David Gray but I can sincerely say I love him! And I'd like to say something, I never liked love poetry or romantic literature. I've never in my life read a romantic novel and I've hated every single love themed poem I've ever read, with but very few exceptions. And the few love whatevers I have written I consider them to be my worst of works. But with music! Niw that's a whole other story! The only way I enjoy words about love is in music!

Now this guy's voice reminds me bit of Bob Dylan and I can't believe we haven't mentioned him already! I don't know if you agree but I think that, that Nobel award was very well deserved!

Here it goes: "Hey Mr. Tambourine Man" in all its glory! If that's not poetry
I don't know what is!

This too is long but it's also worth it!

"Hey! Mr. Tambourine man, play a song for me
I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to
Hey! Mr. Tambourine man, play a song for me
In the jingle jangle morning I'll come following you
Though I know that evening's empire has returned into sand
Vanished from my hand
Left me blindly here to stand but still not sleeping
My weariness amazes me, I'm branded on my feet
I have no one to meet
And the ancient empty street's too dead for dreaming
Hey! Mr. Tambourine man, play a song for me
I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to
Hey! Mr. Tambourine man, play a song for me
In the jingle jangle morning I'll come following you
Take me on a trip upon your magic swirling ship
My senses have been stripped
My hands can't feel to grip
My toes too numb to step
Wait only for my boot heels to be wandering
I'm ready to go anywhere, I'm ready for to fade
Into my own parade
Cast your dancing spell my way, I promise to go under it
Hey! Mr. Tambourine man, play a song for me
I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to
Hey! Mr. Tambourine man, play a song for me
In the jingle jangle morning I'll come following you
Though you might hear laughing, spinning, swinging madly across the sun
It's not aimed at anyone
It's just escaping on the run
And but for the sky there are no fences facing
And if you hear vague traces of skipping reels of rhyme
To your tambourine in time
It's just a ragged clown behind
I wouldn't pay it any mind
It's just a shadow you're seeing that he's chasing
Hey! Mr. Tambourine man, play a song for me
I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to
Hey! Mr. Tambourine man, play a song for me
In the jingle jangle morning I'll come following you
And take me disappearing through the smoke rings of my mind
Down the foggy ruins of time
Far past the frozen leaves
The haunted frightened trees
Out to the windy beach
Far from the twisted reach of crazy sorrow
Yes, to dance beneath the diamond sky
With one hand waving free
Silhouetted by the sea
Circled by the circus sands
With all memory and fate
Driven deep beneath the waves
Let me forget about today until tomorrow
Hey! Mr. Tambourine man, play a song for me
I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to
Hey! Mr. Tambourine man, play a song for me
In the jingle jangle morning I'll come following you.


https://youtu.be/OeP4FFr88SQ

And I chose this particular footage because I love the introduction, the strong wind blowing in the background, the crowds that we can hear but cannot see and and the way he acts on stage, very modest and witty! Notice how he tries to adjust the mic to his height? See the people cheering for this tiny fellow as if he's the biggest man alive?
And his nervous, modest response to all that is:
"I thank ye have the wrong ma'an!"
Little did they all know that many many moons later this shrill-voiced, curly-haired shorty with the southern accent would receive a Nobel Award for his poetry!

Mae,

'Tambourine Man' was a song Dylan wrote about Woody Guthrie,
the composer of 'This Land Is Your Land.' Both have become anthems.

Dylan's Nobel Prize for Literature was awarded too late. He may have felt he hadn't written anything of any worth for forty years.
Though he should have attended the ceremony.

He asked the superb Patti Smith to accept the award on his behalf. She sang 'Hard Rain' accompanied by a full orchestra. It was surreal.

Certain songs claim a century. 'Tambourine Man' and 'This Land Is Your Land' are two of them.

I love Patti Smith! Really? I had no idea what happened with the ceremony! I don't know anything about the "This land is your land" nor about the symbols and historical landmarks anf milestones of the U.S., I'm not American, although that's no excuse ?I just always felt in my heart that Bob Dylan is a poet! I kept telling my friends, this man is not just a folk musician, he's a poet! And when I heard he got it... wow! A musician getting a Nobel Prize for poetry! Surreal indeed, crazy for my little head in my little town in my little corner in the world! From what you tell me it appears he is much bigger than I thought!
Thanks Alan for the information!?
Mae

Yes, you're right Mae, beautiful, poetic songs. Dylan was one of the greatest songwriters that ever lived.

Alan thanks for reminding me about the origin of the song, I'd forgotten that he wrote it for Woody Guthrie.

It's a truly beautiful thing to see successive poets and songwriters inspired by their predecessors, I might have one more for you but I have to check it out first.

Ok, now this is really very, very long but I would say, one of Tom Waits best....


Nighthawk Postcards from Easy Street


[Spoken Intro]
Goodness, gracious. Our bass player should be chained up somewhere. Mongrel, canine, growling. I want to take you on kind of an inebriational travelogue here. Yeah, you ain't got no spare, you ain't got no jack, you don't give a shit, you ain't never coming back. Maybe you're standing on the corner of 17th and Walls easy Streets. Out in front of the terminal bar there's a Thunderbird moving in a Muscatel sky. You've been drinking cleaning products all night. Open for suggestions. Kind of about, well, it's kind of about going down to the corner, saying, "Well, I'm just going down to the corner to get a pack of cigarettes, I'll be back in a minute."

Yeah, you check out the street and it looks like there's kind of a
Kind of a blur drizzle down the plate glass
And as a neon swizzle stick is stirring up the sultry night air
Looks like a yellow biscuit of a buttery cue ball moon
Rolling maverick across an obsidian sky
And as the buses go groaning and wheezing
Down on the corner I'm freezing
On a restless boulevard at a midnight road
I'm across town from Easy Street
With the tight knots of moviegoers and out-of-towners on the stroll
The buildings towering high above lit like dominoes or black dice
Used car salesmen dressed up in Purina checkerboard slacks
And Foster Grant wraparounds
Pacing in front of Rainbow, Earl Scheib, thirty-nine ninety-five merchandise

Like barkers at a shooting gallery
They throw out a Texas Guinan routine:
'Hello sucker, we like your money, just as well as anybody else's here
Come on over here now...
Let me put the cut back in your strut and the glide back in your stride
Now climb aboard a customs Oldsmobile, let me take you for a ride'
Or they give you that P. T. Barnum bit:
'There's a sucker born every minute!'
'You just happened to be coming along at the right time, you know
Come over here now'

And you know, all the harlequin sailors are on the stroll
In search of like new new paint
And decent factory air and AM-FM dreams
Yeah, and all the piss yellow gypsy cabs
They're stacked up in the taxi zones
And they're waiting like pinball machines
To be ticking off a joyride to a magical place
Like Truckers Welcome diners
With dirt lots full of Peterbilts and Kenworths and Jimmies and the like
They're hi-balling with bankrupt brakes
Man, they're overdriven and they're underpaid
They're overfed, and they're a day late and a dollar short
But Christ, I got my lips around a bottle
And I got my foot on the throttle and I'm standing on the corner
Standing on the corner like a just got in town Jasper
I'm on a street corner with a gasper
Looking for some kind of a Cheshire billboard grin
Stroking a goateed chin
Using parking meters as walking sticks
Yeah, on the inebriated stroll
With my eyelids propped open at half mast

But you know, over at "Chubb's Pool and Snooker"
Well, it was a nickel after two, yeah, it was a nickel after two
And in the cobalt steel blue dream smoke
Why, it was the radio that groaned out the hit parade
And the chalk squeaked and the floorboards creaked
And an Olympia sign winked through a torn yellow shade
Old Jack Chance himself leaning up against a Wurlitzer
Man, he was eyeballing out a five ball combination shot
Impossible you say? Hard to believe?
Perhaps out of the realm of possibility?
Naaaah

Cause he be stretching out long tawny fingers
Out across a cool green felt in a provocative golden gate
He got a full table railshot that's no sweat
And I leaned up against my banister
I wandered over to the Wurlitzer and I punched A2
I was looking for maybe 'Wine Wine Wine' by the Nightcaps
Starring Chuck E. Weiss
Or maybe... maybe a little something called "High Blood Pressure"
By George (Crying in the Streets) Perkins, no dice
'Cause that's life, that's what all the people say
You're riding high in April, you're seriously shot down in May
I know I'm gonna change that tune
When I'm standing underneath a buttery moon
That's all melted off to one side
Parkay

It was just about that time that the sun came crawling yellow
Out of a manhole at the foot of twenty-third Street
And a Dracula moon in a black disguise
Was making its way back to its pre-paid room at the St. Moritz Hotel

And the El train tumbled across the trestles
And it sounded like the ghost of Gene Krupa
With an overhead cam and glasspaks
And the whispering brushes of wet radials on wet pavement
Shhhhhhhhhhhhsh
With a traffic jam session on Belmont tonight
And the rhapsody of the pending evening
I leaned up against my banister
And I've been looking for some kind of an emotional investment
With romantic dividends
Yeah, kind of a physical negotiation is underway
As I attempt to consolidate all my missed weekly rendezvous
Into one low monthly payment, through the nose
With romantic residuals and legs akimbo
But the chances are that more than likely
Standing underneath a moon holding water
I'll probably be held over for another
Smashed weekend

https://youtu.be/7b8nEdRazaA

All fantastic I'd like to throw one in the mix....

On Every Street

There's gotta be a record of you someplace
You gotta be on somebody's books
The lowdown, a picture of your face
Your injured looks
The sacred and profane
The pleasure and the pain
Somewhere your fingerprints remain concrete
And it's your face I'm looking for on every street

A ladykiller, regulation tattoo
Silver spurs on his heels
Says, what can I tell you, as I'm standing next to you
She threw herself under my wheels
Oh it's a dangerous road
And a hazardous load
And the fireworks over liberty explode in the heat
And it's your face I'm looking for on every street

A three-chord symphony crashes into space
The moon is hanging upside down
I don't know why it is I'm still on the case
It's a ravenous town
And you still refuse to be traced
Seems to me such a waste
And every victory has a taste that's bittersweet
And it's your face I'm looking for on every street
Songwriters: Mark Knopfler

Kate,

That's interesting, but the words don't possess the quality of the silence that one gets with Dylan or Leonard Cohen.

As you may know, when a line works, it never ends... It follows one out into the street. It's there on the stairs in the night.

The line ages, as we age, but it also renews itself. It's passed from mouth to mouth, from generation to generation. It introduces us to ourselves. Through it, we learn how to listen, to a song, but also to our own lives.


The words and music of a song are inseparable from one's spirit.
They find us at a particular moment. We hold onto them, as we hold onto all those things we cannot name.

They outlive us. They are both eternal and transient in the same moment. Perhaps that's enough.

Alan I mostly agree with you, and may I say, such a lovely input you contributed! But I diaagree with you on one thing, I did like the song Kate posted! I find it very poetic. I respect and revere that silence you're speaking of, but so.sometimes one wants to hear it, or see it or read it. Out loud!
Thank you ?
Mae

Just like all written, spoken or sung words there's a time and a place for all of them. I love Tom Waits, Leonard Cohen, Lenny Kravitz, Blues, Jazz, Heavy Rock, Queen oh my god Queen.

But sometimes there's a place for Abba, do you know what I mean?
We speak possibly the most complex, nuanced, expressive language in the world, a Polish friend of mine once said, "Bloody English, the meaning of a word can change with the lighting!"
But that's the beauty of it, nearly every word you say has at least one other meaning, another layer.
You can reflect on your reflection, have a defective defection, a complex complexion and stand erect with an erection, (although the last one might not bear inspection ?).

I love all the duel meaning and deep meaning but sometimes I just like stuff because it's enjoyable to say, like Dr Seuss. It just pleasantly falls off the tongue.

There you go, that my two penneth.?

Jason, the only thing I can do after all those things you said is to just second that! All of it! Every single word! From "Oh, my God Queen!" to Abba and from "Bloody English" to Dr.
Seuss!!
Thank you for it all?

Jason,

A brilliant observation from your Polish friend. The kind of thing Robert Capa would have said.


Mae,

Abba with their utter genius will probably outlive Eliot. I was talking about the quality of silence between the words. The quality of silence at the end of a line, which one gets from Cohen's lyrics.

Whatever works for you.

Another point. The imagination has no geographical border. It doesn't matter where one lives. As you're aware, in the imagination one can be be anywhere...

Alan thank you for saying that! Yes I am aware and on top of that fortunate to have this brilliant privilege, that free pass I have thanks to my easily distracted brain! And may I say, thank God for poetry and literature and art in general; and thank the stars that I found them or else my chaotic brain would have driven me bonkers!

So anyway.....?? Annie Lennox, brilliant Poet?


Just kidding ?

What a great, in depth discussion. I can only say thanks to Mae, Alan, Kate and anyone else that's given an opinion so far. Really informative and thought provoking.
I can safely say I've learned a few things.

I'd struggle to say what is the most poetic song I've ever heard, there are just so many really good ones, "Hallelujah," comes to mind.

Annie Lennox! Definitely a brilliant poet! But if you ask me, the greatest song ever written is "Nature Boy", composed by some guy named Eden Ahbez and performed by many. Big names too. Nat King Cole was the first and then Frank Sinatra, David Bowie, Ella Fitzgerald, it is the intro and outro in the movie "Moulin Rouge" (the one with Ewan Mc Gregor and Nicole Kidman) and I think even Lady Gaga has sung it.
As for Eden Ahbez, I don't know whatever happened to him, what kind of artist he was or if he ever wrote anything else, another masterpiece... If it were me, there would be no more words after that song. I'd have said it all.
I'd retire and stay silent and complete for the rest of my days.

Call it simplistic, call it whatever. I think it has that special silence Alan was talking about, I can never phrase it correctly, for the love of me!

Here it goes:

"There was a boy
A very strange enchanted boy
They say he wandered very far, very far
Over land and sea
A little shy and sad of eye
But very wise was he

And then one day
A magic day he passed my way
And while we spoke of many things
Fools and kings
This he said to me
The greatest thing you'll ever learn
Is just to love and be loved in return

The greatest thing you'll ever learn
Is just to love and be loved in return. "

I rest my case.?
Mae

Mae,

Eden Ahbez wrote songs for many artists, including Eartha Kitt. The last two lines of 'Nature Boy' are eternally true, but he wrote better songs.

Another album, 'Echoes From Nature Boy' was released in 1995, after Ahbez's death. You may find it on Ebay.

I know this will shock you and you should be aware that I'm hiding under the table as I write this... But I don't think David Bowie had any talent! He possessed no voice and his lyrics were crap. He could dress up well - but can't we all!

Some people have no talent, but they're around at the right time. He just got lucky and got laid. Probably not in that order.

I know you're already contacting your local branch of the Cosa Nostra - but before you arrange to have me shot - explain to me why Bowie was so good!

If you place him against Roy Orbison, as a writer and singer, or Dylan, Bowie is nowhere. Although I heard he could bake a good carrot cake.

Before you have me shot - please send carrot cake!

Haha ? it's ok Alan you're safe from me, I didn't care for Bowie either, I just mentioned him because he was in the list of artists that performed the song. Thanks for sheding some light on Ahbez, I really hate it when I have opinions about stuff without having the knowledge! Thanks a lot, I'll look him up and something tells me I'm in for quite a discovery! You know I actually have black and white pictures of my favorite musicians printed laminated and pinned on my bedroom wall, a teenager would call them posters, this young adult who was forced by 4 years of cancer to go back to her parents' house for a little while calls them portraits. If Ahbez's other songs are half as good as Nature Boy something tells me another portrait will be added on the wall of fame!
Very much obliged ?
Mae

See now I didn't mind Bowie, but for me the last good album was, "Scary Monsters." I think even he admitted he wasn't the world's greatest lyricist, but with Bowie at his best it was all about the feeling.
If I said to myself, "Scary Monsters and super creeps, leave me running running scared!" I'd think, "Well of course they do, otherwise they wouldn't be scary, would they?" But nevertheless I still like the song.
Right, going to listen to Nature Boy now ?.

Yes, it's still brilliant, I think I'd have to give you that one Mae.?

Thanks! Oh, Jason you should have a Nature Boy marathon! Listen to all the versions! I know I will, that and study Ahbez! Haha? Scary monsters huh? I suppose Bowie has a point there! To quote a dear friend of mine, "you quack me up"!?

Speaking of interesting black & white photographs Mae, you might like to look up the work of the photographer, Fay Godwin. She worked with that scoundrel Ted Hughes on 'Remains of Elmet.'

Writers and photographers who are self taught possess a deeper passion towards their work. She was like that.

Work which enhances one's perception of the world, like Godwin, like Ahbez, stays with one. Also, in that kind of work, we find the imagine of our own mind reflected back to us.

Alan, I find everything you say fascinating! You've given me a lot of homework! I love it! That's why I love this place!?From a quick glance at wikipedia I see Ted Hughes was married to Sylvia Plath, so so much studying I have to do and Fay Godwin's work looks absolutely breathtaking! I love it when practitioners of different arts intermingle! I love the idea of dialog between different forms of art!

Mae,

All art forms are inseparable. As you may know, art from another century waits for us.

The work we eventually produce is already within us. We just have to listen for it.

It's probably what Ahbez did...

In Vivaldi's Gloria in 'D' there's a moment when the music stops for perhaps a little more than a second. Then, the chorus comes in...

In that moment, a little more than a second, there is all the things Vivaldi could not say in his art, yet we know it. It's within that silence, within the unsaid.

Fay Godwin caught that. She has been unfairly forgotten. Perhaps you could write something about her.

She's looking at a landscape, waiting for it to speak to her. Knowing there is an hidden glory.

How to depict the lives, lived, lives lost in a landscape. How to give back a voice to lives unknown, yet felt.

As a writer, take risks. Push your talent to the very edge - then you'll push it even further.

That is really well said Alan. I have the misfortune of not being educated as well as I could have been, dyslexia/dyspraxia not really recognised in the 70's and thereafter became angry and embittered with it and turned away by choice.
The upshot of this is, I don't really know where I learned most of the things I know from, it seems like osmosis.
I feel like I do nearly everything by instinct, it's an odd thing to get used to but now at 50 years old, I would say I've just accepted that's how I am. So whilst I believe I've never heard Vivaldi's Gloria in D, I get exactly what you mean about that pause, that off beat or moment of silence where you expected something to be, the absence of, "Normal."
I'm loving this discussion.

Jason,

You do brilliantly well. Picasso was dyslexic. He changed twentieth century art. He was the twentieth century.

It gave him a different gaze. Another way of seeing. He redefined what the retina can give us. He made the retina and the imagination inseparable.

Value that gaze.

Pasternak said... 'There can be no art without a sense of doubt.' Again, value that. You're right. We subconsciously learn many things through osmosis. It's another way of bringing what one can't name into one's life. In art, everything is a preparation for something else.

Selling work nationally has always been difficult. It's the waiting...
The waiting... It's not the work which finally gets to one, it's the hope.

Are you working on anything?

Not really Alan, apart from getting through life and supporting a family, but I did think about publishing a book of what I've done so far. I do have some older stuff, but wrote that when I was much younger and it seems a little clumsy now, although some of it stands up.

I'm too "little" for this exquisite conversation but if there is something I can contribute at this point is that I simply sense that the works that comes from "osmosis" as you gentlemen called it usually possess fragments of a rare authentic truth. Jason, you may carry a lot of bitterness and sorrow for the errors and malfunctions of your era but to me you've always been a beacon of brilliance. I've never seen you as "un-" or "dis-" anything. You're better than most. That's what I think. And not just cause you're so incredibly kind but for your poetry too. That's what I think, if that makes any difference. Alan, thank you for being here, this discussion is a piece of pure gold! Every single thing you've said had somehow made me feel better about my writing. Or, if I want to be exact, for my decision to keep writing. You too are both lovely gentlemen and I thank you for letting me pitch in my little ideas!

Ok, firstly thank you but let's get this straight Mae. You are extremely talented. It's funny because I always look for your poetry because I really admire your style and in this conversation, I felt like the least educated, but then academically I would say I am. So in no way are you too little, your work speaks for itself. And I absolutely love your voice when you do readings. On top of that the depth of insight you bring is invaluable, so please don't ever think you're too little my friend.

Thank you so much Jason. You are too kind. I 've said it and I'll say it again, your constant support ushers me to dare new things. You are profound, gifted and wise, regardless of academic level and things as such. And always look for tour comments and feedback because I really value your opinion. It's just that there are so many things I don't know. Important names, classic works, art, history... One lifetime is not nearly enough! That's what I meant above.
Still, thank you my friend for your support!?

You're right Mae, one lifetime isn't enough. It's been our pleasure to be enlightened by your passion for writing and your ideas.
I'm just someone who scratches one word against another and takes the dog for a walk.

There's line from T.S. Eliot... 'You are the music whilst the music lasts...' Ahbez must have felt that.

I often think of the American poet, Emily Dickinson, sitting alone in her room staring the candle out. Holding the words she'd written that day up to the half light.

As you're aware, the written word, or any art form, always gives one a place to go, a sense of being in the world, despite whatever else is happening in one's life. It becomes a kind of belonging, doesn't it Jason? A way of nurturing ourselves and others. A kind of grace.

One finds it in Fay Godwin's photographs, in the paintings of Caravaggio. He anticipated light and shade within an image, four hundred years before the invention of cinema.

Art always exists in the present tense. It is transient, yet it outlives us. It introduces us to our own mortality. Placing a word, a sound into the world, waiting for it to come back to us, changed, just as we are changed.

Always try to be working on something. A hunger for art is nothing to do with education, or what one has read. It's curiosity, it's the need to irritate the silence.

Eavan Boland in her collection, OUTSIDE HISTORY, writes...

myth is the wound we leave
in the time we have -

Perhaps that's what we search for as we stare the candle out. A story, maybe our story, unforgotten.

As I mentioned earlier Jason, the idea for another piece of work is already within you. Just listen for it... At some random moment it will begin to speak to you.

Hi Mae and others - Have you time to consider Niel Sedaka?. He could write anything - it was his job, after all - and 'The Hungry Years' is one of the great romantic songs, I'm a sentimental old man and it makes me melt every time I hear it. Also (and this is a personal prejudice) he sings clearly and writes in simple words. If you want to communicate, that's how you get people to listen. And I wish I could do it half as well!

Alan T. , I Heard the "Hunger Years". Tender and cozy and nostalgic of an idealized past! Who doesn't have one, am I right? I loved it! Not so much for the words of it but for the sentiment, but that is an immediate effect of the words (with a little help from his voice and the melody) so I guess Neil Sedaka is yet another sweet poet!

Alan P. , thank you for the kind words. I believe that as long as there is thirst, there will be need for water and the more we search the more we increase our chances of finding it.
I have to say something, though; I always feared that writing a lot, always working on something new, would corrode the quality of the work... The more the less... But you set my mind at ease with what you said. And plus it's much progress from the times I dreaded that the day my problems would go away, so would the writing and the ideas. But here I am four years later, safe and sound and I still have an ongoing storm in my brain, thank God!
Jason, the masterpiece is in you, I agree with Alan P. and I believe in you so much!

Boy, I can hardly keep up with all the Alans!
?

"As long as there is thirst there will need for water."
Beautiful.

I just read Patience Agbabi's "Unfinished Business" (it's on her website). That's the most recent poem that broke me up. That's Poetry with a capital "P". That sets a standard. How do we get there?
http://poems.poetrysociety.org.uk/poets/patience-agbabi/

Just for you Mae, 'cos you said you liked him and of course he's brilliant!
Simple words but complex meanings...

https://youtu.be/j_M8fQG9OSI

My, oh my, It does take a lot of love to keep the heart from freezing.
I'm still waiting for it! That's for sure. And with every day that passes my heart gets a little colder; and what's worse, a little more used to it...
But...as long as there's thirst, right?!
And I ask you!
"What kind of world is this that we are living in
Where you never win?"
Simple words but complex meanings indeed.
Thank you Jason! ?
Mae

I read the piece Alan T. ! Very unique. Pushing the limits of the norms. I like it! Thank you ?

Wasn't David Gray's 'White Ladder' recorded in his garage. He has a lament in his voice and his music.

Mae,

As you're aware, writing, art, music, catches the earth turning. If you wish, you should think about selling work. Your talent is there. Believe in yourself.

Choose a writing form, drama, fiction - there's no money in poetry.
It's easy for one's imagination and one's writing to drift. Focus on a particular market. Create characters, stitch their lives into a narrative which contains conflict at its core. Tell a story not your own.

Selling work changes and hardens one's attitude to one's own work. Continue to study the work of other writers. See how Hemingway defines a moment in time within a single sentence, then makes that moment eternal.

Edith Wharton did the same thing in 'The Age of Innocence.'
As F. Scott Fitzgerald said... 'Use the experience of the thousands dead.' The already written work. Arguments that pass through people's lives. Art is essentially the lives of others.

Edit your writing. As Ezra Pound said... 'As a writer one has to be a master butcher.' The imagination in free fall isn't enough. To sell work it has to be placed with a fixed narrative which has a place to go, which can develop.

I hate the phrase - but study the market place.

I don't know if Jason would agree with any of this?

Yes, actually I would, sadly I lack both the time and strength of will, (and probably the talent). But Mae is a fantastic story teller, I've been utterly lost (in a good way) in some of her longer works, they were so well written. Now there's someone I can see making a career of writing. Thanks Alan, good advice as ever.

Re Patience Agbibi - I read her up 'cos she's judging a comp at Marsden and she is undoubtedly a significant poet and will be heard more of. There were a couple more of her poems near the link I posted, both excellent.

Thanks Alan and Jason! You really believe I have what it takes to go further from here? Wow... I'm stunned and mostly flattered! Thank you?

Walk Away

Tom Waits

Dot King was whittled from the bone of Cain
With a little drop of poison in the red red blood
She need a way to turn around the bend
She said I want to walk away and start over again
There are things I've done I can't erase
I want to look in the mirror see another face
I said, "never", but I'm doing it again
I wanna walk away, start over again
No more rain, no more roses
On my way, shake my thirst in a cool cool pond
There's a winner in every place
There's a heart that's beating in every page
The beginning of it starts at the end
When it's time to walk away and start over again
Weather's murder at a hundred and three
William Ray shot Corabell Lee
A yellow dog knows when he has sinned
You wanna walk away and start over again
No more rain, no more roses
On my…

https://youtu.be/ccVC5MjZEfs

Wow, I hadn't paid much attention to the rest of the piece. It's haunting. Oh my, indeed!

Where does one begin?

"Dot King was whittled from a bone of Cain with a little bit of poison in his red red blood"

"I wanna look in the mirror and see another face"

"I said never but I'm doing it again"

"There's a heart beating in every page"

"The beginning of it starts in the end"

"Weather's murder at a hundred and three" (God knows what he means by that yet it pierces through me...Call me crazy!)

"No more rain, no more roses"

"A yellow dog knows when he has sinned." (Oh my GOD!)

It makes me:
a) shiver
and
b) say " Damn, I totally get it so why can't I write like this?"

He's clearly a bard, and what a voice! It's a blues song but it makes me wanna dance. In fact it stirs all kinds of things...
It speaks to me so much
Thanks Jason?

This is my favourite lyric, Strange Fruit, written for Billy Holliday:

Southern trees bear a strange fruit,
Blood on the leaves and blood at the root,
Black bodies swinging in the southern breeze,
Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees.

Pastoral scene of the gallant south,
The big bulging eyes and the twisted mouth,
Scent of magnolias, sweet and fresh,
Then the sudden smell of burning flesh.

Here is a fruit for the crows to pluck,
For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck,
For the sun to rot, for the leafs to drop,
Here is a strange and bitter crop.

Do you know who wrote them Steven?

I'd always assumed it was Billie Holiday?

Mae, my pleasure. Got to say Tom Waits is just about my absolute favourite musical poet of all time. I can't tell you the countless nights I spent listening to the album, "Nighthawks At The Diner." Just brilliant.

J. x

graham, it was written by Abel Meeropol, a russian jewish communist. think he was a college professor. never wrote anything else of note to my knowledge

Thank you Stu. Isn't it strange how such an iconic song/lyrics/poem can often be the only work that someone can be remembered by. A one-hit-wonder if you will.

I'd be grateful for a one-hit-wonder!

regards,

Graham

https://youtu.be/Web007rzSOI

And here's Billie in all her greatness and glory! I had never heard of that particular song! Her voice is poetry and I'm not being metaphorical. Regardless of the words she sings, her voice does its own thing; the quivers and the long high pitched tones sung in a low voice, the vibrato, those points where her voice breaks... It sounds to me like turns and twists in an unpredictable dark route and sultry winks! I don't have the right words for it obviously. My point is she'd be telling a story even if there were no words at all, in my humble opinion.
Jason, one of these days I should listen to that album, the entire thing! "Nighthawks in the Diner" is it? ?
Mae

It is and a fine album it is too.

"Slip me a little crimson jimson,
Gimme the low down brown,
What's the scoop Betty Hoop?
I'm on my way into town!"

J. x

Awe! That's superb! ?

Just for you Mae, one of my favourite Tom Waits interviews ever, from 1979. I believe this is one of the interviews that Heath Ledger credited as his inspiration for his last ever role as the Joker in the Batman film the Dark Knight. If it wasn't this one apologies. Still my favourite from back in the day.......

https://youtu.be/O_ScWtP2IxU

Yeah, it wasn't this interview, it was a slightly later one. I remember watching it and you can see the similarity between Tom Waits in real life and Heath Ledger's performance.

This still brings a tear to my eye

https://youtu.be/vGpwgHqlfWo

A little insight into the mind of a genius ?

https://youtu.be/ooU7FscCCEg

Okay!

On "God bless the child" it's maybe the only non sorrowful song I've ever heard Bllie Holliday sing! And I have to say it speaks to me. It's my firm belief that being a person of one's own is one of the most important conditions, if you wanna be able to live with yourself. Of course that doesn't mean that one must ostracise those eager to guide, consult, help... That would be arrognat and stupid.But I always respect and admire a self-made man/woman.

As for the interview... ingenius! Made me snort -laugh multiple times, as you, Jason usually say!!! And I don't think I've ever seen Tom Waits so young!

On "Waltzing Matilda", I listened and at the same time read your previous comment were you had posted the lyrics. I knew I had heard it before as soon as I heard the name "Mathilda". So I went back on the discussion and found it! It has just dawned on me that Tom Waits sings love songs!

God, spring has gotten me "all shook up" to quote the words of Elvis! It seems like I'm in love with love these days!

And speaking of which, I think the following song paints a picture of my mood, but mostly it's a beloved wonderful piece of Tom Waits! Same thing goes for the movie it was featured in! "The Tiger and the Snow"
I do Love Roberto Begnini!

And speaking of which!!!! Roberto Begnini! A Brilliant poet?

Just watch the "Tiger and the Snow"!!! And if you ask me, "Pinnochio" too! And notice the monologues, the details!

In "The Tiger and the Snow", pretty much the whole is a poem but in particular watch carefully the scene with the bat!

And in Pinocchio listen to the short dialog in the first scene and the one in the very last scene too. It never ceases to amaze me, It's a guilty pleasure movie and mock all you want! Favorte lines: "Que bruto paese", "Anima grande" "Amici del cuore!" exclaimed with arms wide open and the kindest, most innocent smile, simple words weaved in silk with Begnini's acting that can bring the dead to life! "Revivsci!"

And oh, that acting! 'm sorry but if you read between the lines and notice certain details you can see that this movie isn't exactly a kids' movie. Maybe that's partly because of the actual Pinocchio story. The original story is dark and terrifying. But Begnini made it so sweet. He makes everything look and sound sweet, life, death, heartache! And I love the fact that his wife is his muse. It's like every movie is another excuse to exalt her and his love for her! But that may just be me... I am after all, "all shook up, mhh hhm hhm hhm, hmm yeah yeah!" I apologize for the excessive romanticism friends, but you can never hold back spring!?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vgeZEdbv_m8

Just heard it on the radio! Here you go! ?

https://youtu.be/vgeZEdbv_m8

True enough, you can never hold back spring and that is a wonderful thing.

J. x

https://youtu.be/3X-xTEJn4ks

Love this.

J. x

Yes, that's the feeling! I've never heard of this Elbow character, but I find he's quite a performer and this is the kind of song I for one want to wake up and go to sleep to every day!?

Ok, I'd like to contribute this one, albeit too American, it touches me in so many levels, I find it poetic and colorfully abstract, surreal and imaginative! And since all of us here have "the bug" it's only fitting that this one is a song about our beloved, the art of music! He writes about a plane crash where three music legends Buddy Holly and two other guys died on, on Febtuary 1959. I read somewhere that Don McLean was working as a paper boy at the time and since he was the one to deliver the morning news he was also the first one to know!
That's why he says: "with every paper I deliver, bad news on the doorstep."

Here goes! Enjoy!

American Pie
Don McLean

"A long long time ago
I can still remember how
That music used to make me smile
And I knew if I had my chance
That I could make those people dance
And maybe they'd be happy for a while
But February made me shiver
With every paper I'd deliver
Bad news on the doorstep
I couldn't take one more step
I can't remember if I cried
When I read about his widowed bride
Something touched me deep inside
The day the music died
So
Bye, bye Miss American Pie
Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry
And them good ole boys were drinking whiskey and rye
Singin' this'll be the day that I die
This'll be the day that I die
Did you write the book of love
And do you have faith in God above
If the Bible tells you so?
Do you believe in rock and roll?
Can music save your mortal soul?
And can you teach me how to dance real slow?
Well, I know that you're in love with him
'Cause I saw you dancin' in the gym
You both kicked off your shoes
Man, I dig those rhythm and blues
I was a lonely teenage broncin' buck
With a pink carnation and a pickup truck
But I knew I was out of luck
The day the music died
I started singin'
Bye, bye Miss American Pie
Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry
And them good ole boys were drinking whiskey and rye
Singin' this'll be the day that I die
This'll be the day that I die
Now, for ten years we've been on our own
And moss grows fat on a rolling stone
But, that's not how it used to be
When the jester sang for the king and queen
In a coat he borrowed from James Dean
And a voice that came from you and me
Oh and while the king was looking down
The jester stole his thorny crown
The courtroom was adjourned
No verdict was returned
And while Lennon read a book on Marx
The quartet practiced in the park
And we sang dirges in the dark
The day the music died
We were singin'
Bye, bye Miss American Pie
Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry
Them good ole boys were drinking whiskey and rye
And singin' this'll be the day that I die
This'll be the day that I die
Helter skelter in a summer swelter
The birds flew off with a fallout shelter
Eight miles high and falling fast
It landed foul on the grass
The players tried for a forward pass
With the jester on the sidelines in a cast
Now the half-time air was sweet perfume
While sergeants played a marching tune
We all got up to dance
Oh, but we never got the chance
'Cause the players tried to take the field
The marching band refused to yield
Do you recall what was revealed
The day the music died?
We started singin'
Bye, bye Miss American Pie
Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry
Them good ole boys were drinking whiskey and rye
And singin' this'll be the day that I die
This'll be the day that I die
Oh, and there we were all in one place
A generation lost in space
With no time left to start again
So come on Jack be nimble, Jack be quick
Jack Flash sat on a candlestick
'Cause fire is the devil's only friend
Oh and as I watched him on the stage
My hands were clenched in fists of rage
No angel born in Hell
Could break that Satan's spell
And as the flames climbed high into the night
To light the sacrificial rite
I saw Satan laughing with delight
The day the music died
He was singin'
Bye, bye Miss American Pie
Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry
Them good ole boys were drinking whiskey and rye
Singin' this'll be the day that I die
This'll be the day that I die
I met a girl who sang the blues
And I asked her for some happy news
But she just smiled and turned away
I went down to the sacred store
Where I'd heard the music years before
But the man there said the music wouldn't play
And in the streets the children screamed
The lovers cried, and the poets dreamed
But not a word was spoken
The church bells all were broken
And the three men I admire most
The Father, Son, and the Holy Ghost
They caught the last train for the coast
The day the music died
And they were singing
Bye, bye Miss American Pie
Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry
And them good ole boys were drinking whiskey and rye
Singin' this'll be the day that I die
This'll be the day that I die
They were singing
Bye, bye Miss American Pie
Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry
Them good ole boys were drinking whiskey and rye
Singin' this'll be the day that I die."


https://youtu.be/7yHTpGog0IY

So, can music save YOUR mortal soul?
Thank you and goodnight ?
Mae

Yep, I'd give you that one Mae, it is a brilliant song. I can remember a local band used to play this down the pub when I was young and we all used to sing along. Great song.

J. x

That sounds fun. I like the idea of sing-along. It brings people together. There's something mystical and ritualistic about it. Like chanting?
Mae

How about this one Mae? One of my favourite bands when I was a wee young lad, Echo And The Bunnymen. The song was called, "Killing Moon."

The Killing Moon (Echo & the Bunnymen)

Under a blue moon I saw you
So soon you'll take me
Up in your arms
Too late to beg you or cancel it
Though I know it must be the killing time
Unwillingly mine

Fate
Up against your will
Through the thick and thin
He will wait until
You give yourself to him

In starlit nights I saw you
So cruelly you kissed me
Your lips a magic world
Your sky all hung with jewels
The killing moon
Will come too soon

Fate
Up against your will
Through the thick and thin
He will wait until
You give yourself to him

Under a blue moon I saw you
So soon you'll take me
Up in your arms
Too late to beg you or cancel it
Though I know it must be the killing time
Unwillingly mine

Fate
Up against your will
Through the thick and thin
He will wait until
You give yourself to him

https://youtu.be/LWz0JC7afNQ

Good one Jason! I've heard it before, love the music, typical 80's (if I'm not mistaken) rock but I'd never noticed the words! Now I know what it says! "So cruelly you kissed me" Sheer love ache! Love does hurt...
Looking for the next gem! Stay tuned?
Mae

Hi every one. I love all your picks for great musical poets. Annie Lenox for sure, Echo & The Bunnymen and of course Tom Waits. Here's another great artist who I feel is underappreciated, Paul Westerberg. This song, to me, sums it all up. Enjoy.
Lisa

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cbhQKffugNk

Swingin Party
The Replacements

"Bring your own lampshade, somewhere there's a party
Here it's never endin', can't remember when it started
Pass around the lampshade, there'll be plenty enough room in jail
If bein' wrong's a crime, I'm serving forever
Being strong and kind, I need help here with this feather
If bein' afraid is a crime, we hang side by side
At the swingin' party down the line
Pound the prairie pavement, losin' proposition
Quittin' school and goin' to work and never goin' fishin'
Water all around, never learning how to swim now
If bein' wrong's a crime, I'm serving forever
If being strong and kind, then I need help here with this feather
If bein' afraid is a crime, we hang side by side
At the swingin' party down the line, li, li, line
At the swingin' party down the line
Bring your own lampshade, somewhere there's a party
Here it's never endin', can't remember when it started
Pass around the lampshade, there'll be plenty enough room in jail
If bein' wrong's a crime, I'm serving forever
If bein' strong is what you want, then I need help here with this feather
If bein' afraid is a crime, we hang side by side
At the swingin' party down the line
Every valentine at the swingin' party down the line
Catch you down at the swingin' party down the line"

Songwriters: Paul Westerberg
Swingin Party lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc, BMG Rights Management

Great choice Lisa, really liked that. Don't know why but it led my train of thought on to, "Del Amitri,"

https://youtu.be/2krl7M323oY

Everybody in the fun house
Says they want out
But we're taking our time
'Cos we're in love with time

Whole generations thinking of themselves
As infidels and pop stars
While the bomb loses patience
We line up and just lean against the bar

Stone cold sober, looking for bottles of love
Stone cold sober, looking for bottles of love

Caught in the headlights
Wide-eyed and ready to receive
We are the dead life
Locked in dogfights, lost in disbelief

And these dark days
Make the nights seem brighter than they are
So while Fleet Street rolls and the moon glows
In the fun house the fun starts

Stone cold sober, looking for bottles of love
We're stone cold sober, looking for bottles of love, love, love

We are the dead life
We are the dead life
So come on, come on

Born in the half-light of threats and bribes
In a hopeless porn parade
We get the dog's life, tidbits train us
What to wear, what not to say

When you're footloose and you just feel limbless
Life gets in the way
So we get loaded or totally legless
But stay the same

Stone cold sober, looking for bottles of love
We're stone cold sober, looking for bottles of love, love
We're stone cold sober and looking for bottles of love
We're stone cold sober and looking, looking
So come on, come on

We are the dead life
We are the dead life
We are the dead life

Oh, just remembered this, haven't heard it for so long. Brought a tear to my eye first time I don't mind telling you ?

https://youtu.be/-dtcsL9JnKM

"This Side Of The Morning"

Nobody's perfect
And that's something that I'm sure she'll know
'Cos trying to tell her lies from the truth at times
Is like trying to divide ice from snow
And when I knew it was over
I jumped into a taxi and said, "Just guess where to go"
And the driver turned about and said,
"Finding what you want is like
Trying to divide ice from snow"

So here I sit, rolling back to bed
Knowing love's a hazard that I'd never guessed
But from this side of the morning I couldn't care less
I couldn't care less

Nobody's helpless
Although I've never felt this helpless before
And trying to persuade myself not to think about her
Is like trying to tell the clouds not to pour
So I'll put down the bottle
While in my head time is collapsing and the currents run cold
So I'll curse her memory
But don't try telling me that she was not the emerald in a mountain of coal
Or there's a crock of cures for cancer at the end of the rainbow

So here I sit, rolling back to bed
Knowing love's a hazard that I'd never guessed
But from this side of the morning I couldn't care less
I couldn't care less

She's the kind of girl who won't forgive but will forget
So take me from this party, driver, put me back to bed
I wanted to be loved but just got laughed at instead
So if this taxi's for hire
I'll get in the back just to feel the friction of the tarmac and the tyres

So nobody's perfect
And that's something that I'm sure she'll know
But trying to persuade myself not to think about her is like
Trying to tell the cockerels not to crow
Or like trying to tell the striker not to think about the goal

So here I sit, rolling back to bed
Knowing love's a hazard that I'd never guessed
But from this side of the morning
Yeah, from this side of the morning
Yeah, from this side of the morning
I couldn't care less

That IS poetry dear Lisa!

"If bein' wrong's a crime, I'm serving forever
Being strong and kind, I need help here with this feather
If bein' afraid is a crime, we hang side by side
At the swingin' party down the line"

Incredible! if being wrong is a crime I'm serving for lifetime.

Dear Jason!

"Looking for bottles of love"

"we are the dead life" excellent!


On the subject of "give it your all, go all out for love!"

Even though it was inspired by a small boy it came to be an anthem of the "Go get her!" Order!

I'm sure it's not new to you but it's so classic that it can.never be obsolete or redundant! It always makes me feel shiver to the bones!

Bear through the dismissive, rebellious joking part and wait for the good stuff!



https://youtu.be/A_MjCqQoLLA

P.S. Look at the crowd, how many people so different from each other... old men and groupies, rebels and "good girls" that snuck off to go see the show! Simple people with ordinary conventional lives and hippies! All brought together by one song! Do marvel at the stardom of a certain Beatle but do not forget about the silent might and stature of the another one! The sweet humble Beatle who wrote a few simple words that speak to everybody! Look at his face, look at his eyes, how much love they exude!

P.P.S. You're British,Jason, you may know this showhost... So, could you perhaps tell me what's the deal with him and that thing he's doing with his hands?!

Thank you!
Enjoy !?(I always do!)
Mae

That is still such a classic, culturally iconic. The show host is David Frost, he was more quirky than creepy but a very respected journalist. I would say his most well known interview would have to be the infamous, "Frost/Nixon," interview which prompted the movie, "Frost, Nixon." Nice bloke but as you pointed out, a bit quirky.?

J. x

I apologize if I came off a bit mean, it wasn't my intention to offend the gentleman, I was in a rather whimsical mood! Iconic indeed! I had no idea... Famous journalist, popular band! But most of all, perfect, perfectly-sweet Paul McCartney! ? Love that man!
Mae

Ok, for me, one more classic....

Pump It Up
Elvis Costello
I've been on tenterhooks, ending in dirty looks
List'ning to the Muzak, thinking 'bout this 'n' that
She said, "That's that, I don't want to chitter-chat"
Turn it down a little bit or turn it down flat
Pump it up, when you don't really need it
Pump it up, until you can feel it
Down in the pleasure center, hell-bent or heaven-sent
Listen to the propaganda, listen to the latest slander
There's nothing underhand that she wouldn't understand
Pump it up, until you can feel it
Pump it up, when you don't really need it
She's been a bad girl, she's like a chemical
Though you try to stop it, she's like a narcotic
You want to torture her, you want to talk to her
All the things you bought for her, putting up your temperature
Pump it up, until you can feel it
Pump it up, when you don't really need it
Out in the fashion show, down in the bargain bin
You put your passion out under the pressure pin
Fall into submission, hit-and-run transmission
No use wishing now for any other sin
Pump it up, until you can feel it
Pump it up, when you don't really need it

https://youtu.be/3Y71iDvCYXA

Back to Annie Lennox for a moment. "Thorn In My Side" tears me up:

Thorn in my side.
You know that's all you ever were.
A bundle of lies.
You know that's all that it was worth
I should have known better
But I trusted you at first.
I should have known better
But I got what I deserved

To run away from you
Was all that I could do.
To run away from you
Was all that I could do.

Thorn in my side.
You know that's all you'll ever be.
So don't think you know better
'Cause that's what you mean to me
I was feeling complicated.
I was feeling low.
Now every time I think of you
I shiver to the bone

Yes, I rest my case, Annie Lennox, great post!

And don't even get me started on you have placed a chill in my heart!

You have placed a chill in my heart
You have placed a chill in my heart

Take me to the desert where there's got to be
A whole heap of nothing for you and me
Take me to the desert, take me to the sand
Show me the color of your right hand

You have placed a chill in my heart
You have placed a chill in my heart

Love is a temple, love is a shrine
Buy some love at the five and dime
A little bit of love from the counter store
Get it on credit if you need some more

I'll be the figure of your disgrace
A criss-cross pattern upon your face
A woman's just too tired to think
About the dirty old dishes in the kitchen sink

I wish I was invisible, so I could climb through the telephone
When it hurts my ear, and it hurts my brain
And it makes me feel too much
Too much, too much, too much
Don't cut me down when I'm talking to you
'Cause I'm much too tall to feel that small
Love is a temple
Love is a shrine
Love is pure
And love is blind
Love is a religious sign
I'm gonna leave this love behind.
Love is hot and love is cold
I've been bought and I've been sold
Love is rock and love is roll
I just want someone to hold.

Hi all! Boy, am I glad this discussion's on again!

Jason! Pump it up! Crazy showman Elvis Costello! Loved it!

Devon! Thorn in my side. Just that phrase itself is poetry, promises some really strong stuff!

"Thorn in my side.
You know that's all you'll ever be.
So don't think you know better
'Cause that's what you mean to me
I was feeling complicated.
I was feeling low.
Now every time I think of you
I shiver to the bone"

Words that we...most of us...some of us could never utter. Thanks Annie!


Jason Again! Chill in my heart!

Oh boy, where do I begin?

"Take me to the desert where there's got to be
A whole heap of nothing for you and me
Take me to the desert, take me to the sand
Show me the color of your right hand"

"A whole heap of nothing for you and me..."
"Show me the color of your right hand..."

A muffled pang in the gut!

"I'll be the figure of your disgrace
A criss-cross pattern upon your face"

Another pang, this time loud!



"Don't cut me down when I'm talking to you
'Cause I'm much too tall to feel that small"

Love will do that to you Annie...

"Love is a temple
Love is a shrine
Love is pure
And love is blind
Love is a religious sign
I'm gonna leave this love behind.
Love is hot and love is cold
I've been bought and I've been sold
Love is rock and love is roll
I just want someone to hold."

Excellent, meaningful rhyme!

Here's another piece...I've come to love this one! Every time I listen to it I think...Yeah, this is the life!

The Cranberries, "Just my Imagination"

There was a game we used to play
We would hit the town on Friday night
Stay in bed until Sunday
We used to be so free
We were living for the love we had
Living not for reality
Just my imagination
Just my imagination
Just my imagination
It was
Just my imagination
Just my imagination
Just my imagination
It was
There was a time I used to pray
I have always kept my faith in love
It's the greatest thing from the man above
The game I used to play
I've always put my cards upon the table
Never be said that I'd be unstable
Just my imagination
Just my imagination
Just my imagination
It was
Just my imagination
Just my imagination
Just my imagination
It was
There is a game I like to play
I like to hit the town on Friday night
And stay in bed until Sunday
We'll always be this free
We will be living for the love we have
Living not for reality
It's not my imagination
Not my imagination
Not my imagination
It was
Not my imagination
Not my imagination
Not my imagination"

Remember this one?


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SHoHIL2ABVQ

Thank you!?
Mae

OK, this isn't Annie Lennox, but this song and the video broke my heart and continues to do so....

Mercy Street - Peter Gabriel

Looking down on empty streets, all she can see
Are the dreams all made solid
Are the dreams all made real
All of the buildings, all of those cars
Were once just a dream
In somebody's head

She pictures the broken glass, she pictures the steam
She pictures a soul
With no leak at the seam

Lets take the boat out
Wait until darkness
Let's take the boat out
Wait until darkness comes

Nowhere in the corridors of pale green and grey
Nowhere in the suburbs
In the cold light of day
There in the midst of it so alive and alone
Words support like bone

Dreaming of mercy st.
Wear your inside out
Dreaming of mercy
In your daddy's arms again
Dreaming of mercy st.
'Swear they moved that sign
Dreaming of mercy
In your daddy's arms

Pulling out the papers from the drawers that slide smooth
Tugging at the darkness, word upon word
Confessing all the secret things in the warm velvet box
To the priest-he's the doctor
He can handle the shocks
Dreaming of the tenderness-the tremble in the hips
Of kissing Mary's lips

Dreaming of mercy st.
Wear your insides out
Dreaming of mercy
In your daddy's arms again
Dreaming of mercy st.
'Swear they moved that sign
Looking for mercy
In your daddy's arms

Mercy, mercy, looking for mercy
Mercy, mercy, looking for mercy

Anne, with her father is out in the boat
Riding the water
Riding the waves on the sea

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DYw9UrsFJa4

Wow Devon! Loved it! Every single word! Incredibly heart wrenching. Made me shiver to the bone, music, film and all... It was written for Anne Sexton. I didn't k ow of her, O read a little bit and it looks like she was troubled. Here's a poem of hers.

AN AWFUL ROWING TOWARD GOD.



ROWING

A story, a story!

(Let it go. Let it come.)

I was stamped out like a Plymouth fender

into this world.

First came the crib

with it’s glacial bars.

Then dolls

and the devotion to their plastic mouths.

Then there was school,

the little straight rows of chairs,

blotting my name over and over,

but undersea all the time,

a stranger whose elbows wouldn’t work.

Then there was life

with it’s cruel houses

and people who seldom touched –

though touch is all –

but I grew,

like a pig in a trenchcoat I grew,

and then there were many strange apparitions,

the nagging rain, the sun turning into poison

and all of that, saws working through my heart,

but I grew, I grew,

and God was there like an island I had not rowed to,

still ignorant of Him, my arms and my legs worked,

and I grew, I grew,

I wore rubies and bought tomatoes

and now, in my middle age,

about nineteen in the head I’d say,

I am rowing, I am rowing

though the oarlocks stick and are rusty

and the sea blinks and rolls

like a worried eyeball,

but I am rowing, I am rowing,

though the wind pushes me back

and I know that that island will not be perfect,

it will have the flaws of life,

the absurdities of the dinner table,

but there will be a door

and I will open it

and I will get rid of the rat inside of me,

the gnawing pestilential rat.

God will take it with his two hands

and embrace it.



As the African says:

This is my tale which I have told,

if it be sweet, if it be not sweet,

take somewhere else and let some return to me.

This story ends with me still rowing.



THE ROWING ENDETH

I’m mooring my rowboat

at the dock of the island called God.

This dock is made in the shape of a fish

and there are many boats moored

at many different docks.

“It’s okay.” I say to myself,

with blisters that broke and healed

and broke and healed –

saving themselves over and over.

And salt sticking to my face and arms like

a glue-skin pocked with grains of tapioca.

I empty myself from my wooden boat

and onto the flesh of The Island.



“On with it!” He says and thus

we squat on the rocks by the sea

and play – can it be true –

a game of poker.

He calls me.

I win because I hold a royal straight flush.

He wins because He holds five aces,

A wild card had been announced

but I had not heard it

being in such a state of awe

when He took out the cards and dealt.

As he plunks down His five aces

and I am still grinning at my royal flush,

He starts to laugh,

and laughter rolling like a hoop out of His mouth

and into mine,

and such laughter that He doubles right over me

laughing a Rejoice-Chorus at our two triumphs.

Then I laugh, the fishy dock laughs

the sea laughs. The Island laughs.

The Absurd laughs.



Dearest dealer,

I with my royal straight flush,

love you so for your wild card,

that untamable, eternal, gut-driven ha-ha

and lucky love."

I think that's the last poem she ever wrote or published (I'm not sure) before she killed herself.



While We're on the subject of singing for the arts and for the people of the arts I'd like to present another one of Don McLean's! It seems to me that this guy is utterly in love with the arts! I can identify and, mind you, up until recently I was completely ignorant of his existence. In "Americn Pie" he sings for the love of music and mourns the death of three music legends, and in this one he sings for misunderstood, troubled, poor old brilliant Vincent VanGogh! Lovely song! Listen to it!

Thank you ?
Mae

https://youtu.be/4wrNFDxCRzU

Vincent is a beautiful song. It still makes me stare into the mid-distance and drift away.

If we're bringing Peter Gabriel into the fray (and rightly so) then I couldn't help but add this one, with one of my all time favourite performers, Kate Bush.....

"Don't Give Up"

in this proud land we grew up strong
we were wanted all along
I was taught to fight, taught to win
I never thought I could fail

no fight left or so it seems
I am a man whose dreams have all deserted
I've changed my face, I've changed my name
but no one wants you when you lose

don't give up
'cos you have friends
don't give up
you're not beaten yet
don't give up
I know you can make it good

though I saw it all around
never thought I could be affected
thought that we'd be the last to go
it is so strange the way things turn

drove the night toward my home
the place that I was born, on the lakeside
as daylight broke, I saw the earth
the trees had burned down to the ground

don't give up
you still have us
don't give up
we don't need much of anything
don't give up
'cause somewhere there's a place
where we belong

rest your head
you worry too much
it's going to be alright
when times get rough
you can fall back on us
don't give up
please don't give up

'got to walk out of here
I can't take anymore
going to stand on that bridge
keep my eyes down below
whatever may come
and whatever may go
that river's flowing
that river's flowing

moved on to another town
tried hard to settle down
for every job, so many men
so many men no-one needs

don't give up
'cause you have friends
don't give up
you're not the only one
don't give up
no reason to be ashamed
don't give up
you still have us
don't give up now
we're proud of who you are
don't give up
you know it's never been easy
don't give up
'cause I believe there's a place
there's a place where we belong

https://youtu.be/VjEq-r2agqc

"Army Dreamers"

"B.F.P.O."
Army dreamers.
"Mammy's hero."
"B.F.P.O."
"Mammy's hero."

Our little army boy
Is coming home from B.F.P.O.
I've a bunch of purple flowers
To decorate a mammy's hero.

Mourning in the aerodrome,
The weather warmer, he is colder.
Four men in uniform
To carry home my little soldier.

"What could he do?
Should have been a rock star."
But he didn't have the money for a guitar.
"What could he do?
Should have been a politician."
But he never had a proper education.
"What could he do?
Should have been a father."
But he never even made it to his twenties.
What a waste --
Army dreamers.
Ooh, what a waste of
Army dreamers.

Tears o'er a tin box.
Oh, Jesus Christ, he wasn't to know,
Like a chicken with a fox,
He couldn't win the war with ego.

Give the kid the pick of pips,
And give him all your stripes and ribbons.
Now he's sitting in his hole,
He might as well have buttons and bows.

"What could he do?
Should have been a rock star."
But he didn't have the money for a guitar.
"What could he do?
Should have been a politician."
But he never had a proper education.
"What could he do?
Should have been a father."
But he never even made it to his twenties.
What a waste --
Army dreamers.
Ooh, what a waste of
Army dreamers.
Ooh, what a waste of all that
Army dreamers,
Army dreamers,
Army dreamers, oh...

("B.F.P.O.")
Did-n-did-n-did-n-dum...
Army dreamers.
Did-n-did-n-did-n-dum...
("Mammy's hero.")
("B.F.P.O.")
Army Dreamers.
("Mammy's hero.")
("B.F.P.O.")
No harm heroes.
("Mammy's hero.")
("B.F.P.O.")
Army dreamers.
("Mammy's hero.")
("B.F.P.O.")
No harm heroes

https://youtu.be/QOZDKlpybZE

And just because it's cool.....

Let Forever Be (Chemical Brothers)

"Let Forever Be"

How does it feel like,
to wake up in the sun?
How does it feel like,
to shine on everyone?
How does it feel like,
to let forever be?
How does it feel like,
to spend a little lifetime sitting in the gutter?

Scream a symphony.

How does it feel like,
to sail in on the breeze?
How does it feel like,
to spend a little lifetime sitting in the gutter?

Scream a symphony.

How does it feel like,
to make it happen here?
How does it feel like,
to breathe with everything?
How does it feel like,
to let forever be?
How does it feel like,
to spend a little lifetime sitting in the gutter?

Scream a symphony.

How does it feel like,
to be a crystal fiend?
How does it feel like,
to spend a little lifetime sitting in the gutter?

Scream a symphony.


https://youtu.be/s5FyfQDO5g0

You're So Vain - Carly Simon

You walked into the party
Like you were walking on a yacht
Your hat strategically dipped below one eye
Your scarf, it was apricot
You had one eye on the mirror
And watched yourself gavotte
And all the girls dreamed that they'd be your partner
They'd be your partner, and
You're so vain
You probably think this song is about you
You're so vain,
I'll bet you think this song is about you
Don't you?
Don't you?
Oh, you had me several years ago
When I was still naive
Well, you said that we made such a pretty pair
And that you would never leave
But you gave away the things you loved
And one of them was me
I had some dreams, they were clouds in my coffee
Clouds in my coffee, and
You're so vain
You probably think this song is about you
You're so vain, you're so vain
I'll bet you think this song is about you
Don't you?
Don't you?
Well I hear you went to Saratoga
And your horse, naturally, won
Then you flew your Learjet up to Nova Scotia
To see the total eclipse of the sun
Well, you're where you should be all the time
And when you're not, you're with some underworld spy
Or the wife of a close friend,
Wife of a close friend, and
You're so vain
You probably think this song is about you
You're so vain, you're so vain
I'll bet you think this song is about you
Don't you?
Don't you?

Source: LyricFind
Songwriters: Carly E. Simon
You're So Vain lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mQZmCJUSC6g

Hi again!

Jason, loved "Don't Give up" and "Army Dreamers"! As for "Let forever be" Cool indeed! As music and beat go it makes me wanna say things like "Radical!" and "Wicked!" but when I strip the lyrics from the sound I see poetry. Radical and wicked poetry!
Here we have us some poetry! Bold, strong.

Lisa, I loved "You're so vain". It's spot-on, so ?many people are exactly like that...sadly.

Lately my head keeps coming around this one... I know this kind of music is the one or one of the few cases where the lyrics are inferior to the music and you can't quite call it poetry but Ella's performance is so soulful that it exaults and underlines every single word she sings. Her voice IS poetry!

Here you go!


"These Foolish Things (Remind Me Of You)"

Oh! Will you never let me be?
Oh! Will you never set me free?
The ties that bound us
Are still around us
There's no escape that I can see
And still those little things remain
That bring me happiness or pain

A cigarette that bears a lipstick's traces
An airline ticket to romantic places
And still my heart has wings
These foolish things remind me of you
A tinkling piano in the next apartment
Those stumbling words that told you what my heart meant
A fair ground's painted swings
These foolish things remind me of you
You came you saw you conquer'd me
When you did that to me
I knew somehow this had to be
The winds of March that make my heart a dancer
A telephone that rings but who's to answer?
Oh, how the ghost of you clings!
These foolish things remind me of you

First daffodils and long excited cables
And candle lights on little corner tables
And still my heart has wings
These foolish things remind me of you
The park at evening when the bell has sounded
The "Ile de France" with all the gulls around it
The beauty that is Spring's
These foolish things remind me of you
How strange how sweet to find you still
These things are dear to me
They seem to bring you near to me
The sigh of midnight trains in empty stations
Silk stockings thrown aside dance invitations
Oh, how the ghost of you clings!
These foolish things remind me of you

Gardenia perfume ling'ring on a pillow
Wild strawb'ries only seven francs a kilo
And still my heart has wings
These foolish things remind me of you
The smile of Garbo and the scent of roses
The waiters whistling as the last bar closes
The song that Crosby sings
These foolish things remind me of you
How strange how sweet to find you still
These things are dear to me
They seem to bring you near to me
The scent of smould'ring leaves, the wail of steamers
Two lovers on the street who walk like dreamers
Oh, how the ghost of you clings!
These foolish things remind me of you



I particularly love the "tinkling piano and the stumblin' words" part! Music and words! I mean...it's the very subject of this discussion!!!

Thank you ?
Mae




https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mshV7ug8cdE

Wow, everyone, some old faves and new raves. I got a lot of listening to do. Mae - how dare you bring up "Vincent", lol. One of my all time favorites, more so than "American Pie", but that is only because I cracked my head open while it was on the radio.

Hey Devon! I'm glad you joined in! Glad you liked America Pie,. I know...I'm audacious ?
I still can't believe that up until very recently I had no idea Don MacLean existed and now he's one of my favorites! This discussion is so valuable and pretty awesome!
Thank you?
Mae

Hi All.
Here's another great one. An oldie but oh what a goodie.
Anything by Roddy Frame/Aztec Camera is hauntingly beautiful
Please enjoy

The Bugle Sounds Again

Still so, here we go, nighthawk calls again,
Meeting after midnight like we do
Flesh bared, never scared, know their kind too well.
"Grab that Gretsch before the truth hits town",
You whispered to me as they fell.
And when I'm safe and sound with nothing left to send,
The bugle sounds again.
The cards are on the table now, and every other cliche
Somehow fits me like a glove.
You know that I'd be loathe to call it love.
For strength will come to tower above
The things that I have learned to love
And just as I'm about to say 'Amen',
The bugle sounds again.
The vampires made a killing,
Filled their pockets up with shillings
Saying 'someone has to pay'
And you were still hiding,
Singing 'come and cry beside me'
So I ran away.
And when I'm safe and sound with nothing left to send,
The bugle sounds again.

Source: LyricFind
Songwriters: Roddy Frame
The Bugle Sounds Again lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3v6nihWQzlU

I completely forgot about Aztec Camera, Lisa! Thanks for reminding me. "Grab that Gretsch before the truth hits town" Whoa.

D

Mae, I agree with on the value of this discussion. We are all getting to hear the soundtrack of each others lives.

This one was personal for me, and hit me like freight train at the time and circumstance:

I Get A Room - Psychedelic Furs

Don't want order
It won't come
There's no why that it goes on
I was tied and i'm undone
I've got all that you don't want
You want order i want more
You want it all and
All of it's yours
You want shelter
I get a room
I get a room
My confusion leaves me cold
I've got nothing here to hold
All that's gold will never shine
It was nothing, nevermind
I want time, i want it now
My confusion's getting me down
You want shelter
I get a room
I get a room
What of yours is there to keep?
To be there when you sleep
I'm not here to tie your feet
Hold a hand upon your sleeve
There's a nail to hang the wall
It pays to lose it all
A note to hind behind the door
I get a room
Where you sleep, i lay awake
I saw every time you fake
I held on the hand that takes
And you hate it when i break
You want order
I want more
You want it all and
All of it's yours
You want shelter
I get a room
I get a room
I get a room

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5xMAd5V8pwk

Ok, one of my all time favourites from one of my all time favourites...

Putnam County"

I guess things were always kind of quiet around Putnam County
Kind of shy and sleepy as it clung to the skirts of the two-lane
That was stretched out just like an asphalt dance floor
Where all the old-timers in bib jeans and store bought boots
Were hunkering down in the dirt
To lie about their lives and the places that they'd been
And they'd suck on Coca Colas, yeah, and be spitting Day's Work
Until the moon was a stray dog on the ridge and
And the taverns would be swollen until the naked eye of two a.m.
And the Stratocasters slung over the burgermeister beer guts
And swizzle-stick legs jackknifed over naugahyde stools... yeah
And the witch hazel spread out over the linoleum floors
And pedal-pushers stretched out over a midriff bulge
And the coiffed brunette curls over Maybelline eyes
Wearing Prince Machiavelli, or something yeah
Estee Lauder, smells so sweet
And I elbowed up at the counter with mixed feelings over mixed drinks
As Bubba and the Roadmasters moaned in pool hall concentration and
And knit their brows to cover the entire Hank Williams songbook
Whether you like it or not
And the old National register was singing to the tune of fifty-seven dollars and fifty-
seven cents yeah
And then it's last call, one more game of eight-ball
Berniece'd be putting the chairs on the tables
And someone come in and say, 'Hey man, anyone got any jumper cables?'
'Is that a 6 or a 12 volt, man? I don't know...'
Yeah, and all the studs in town would toss 'em down
And claim to fame as they stomped their feet
Yeah, boasting about being able to get more ass than a toilet seat
And the GMC's and the Straight-8 Fords were coughing and wheezing
And they percolated as they tossed the gravel underneath the fenders
To weave home a wet slick anaconda of a two-lane
With tire irons and crowbars a-rattling
With a tool box and a pony saddle
You're grinding gears and you're shifting into first
Yeah, and that goddamned tranny's just getting worse, man
With the melody of see-ya-laters and screwdrivers on carburetors
Talking shop about money to loan
And palominos and strawberry roans yeah
See ya tomorrow, hello to the Missus
With money to borrow and goodnight kisses
As the radio spit out Charlie Rich, man,
He sure can sing that son of a bitch
And you weave home, yeah, weaving home
Leaving the little joint winking in the dark warm narcotic American night
Beneath a pin cushion sky
And it's home to toast and honey, gotta start up the Ford, man
Yeah, and your lunch money's right over there on the draining board
And the toilet's running Christ, shake the handle
And the telephone is ringing, it's Mrs. Randall
And where the hell are my goddamned sandals?
What you mean, the dog chewed up my left foot?
With the porcelain poodles and the glass swans
Staring down from the knickknack shelf. yeah
And the parent's permission slips for the kids' field trips
Yeah, and a pair of mukluks scraping across the shag carpet yeah
And the impending squint of first light
And it lurked behind a weeping marquee in downtown Putnam
Yeah, and it'd be pulling up any minute now
Just like a bastard amber Velveeta yellow cab on a rainy corner
And be blowing its horn in every window in town

https://youtu.be/vG0t8oKcnkw

Mr. Waits - great 'merican poet. I was reading the lyric, not having heard it in ages, and I was all oohs and aahs, before remembering the identity of the author. Pure Americana.

D

I think, exactly that Mindy. These days many, if not most of us are introduced to poetry through music. Lyrics are poetry but poetry is not always lyrics and I love that distinction. I would admit however that, yes, I am drawn to rhyme and quite tight scansion for the most part, although not always. Nevertheless, it remains true that for most of us, music and the lyrics that go with it underscore our lives. So although this is called, "Annie Lennox, brilliant poet," it's really a discussion about what music adds to our lives and which songs in particular.
How about you, I'd love to know? ?

J. x

No never, and I didn't assume you were referring to me necessarily, but I am drawn to a musical rhythm. Very often I get a beat or rhythm in my mind and slowly find words to fit it. So naturally I fit the description.
But no my friend, never offended. But I would still be very interested to know what music has influenced you, just because it's interesting. And trust me, it's not stupidity at all, it's an astute observation.

J. x

Apologies, I only just saw your previous message, damn my stupid old dyslexic eyes, and the romantics are great.

(P.S. Blood, hair and saliva not necessary.?)

Actually I really like that. I think there's a place for everything and everything to it's place. It's like, sometimes when I'm hungry I fancy some delicate seafood or a lovely multi layered flavour experience like a really good curry and other times fish and chips are perfect. I have so many favourite songs but would hard pressed to tell you which was my all time favourite, music seems to make things so fluid.
But if you asked me my all time favourite poem, that's easy, Dylan Thomas, Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night.
I don't know why that is, why my brain sees that distinction. But it does and I love that it does. It all just adds another sprinkle to the mixing pot. ?

J. x

That conversation is on fire! I love your discussion Mindy and Jason!
I have the music worm too and I was introduced to poetry through poetry too. The Beatles, Pink Floyd, Bob Dylan and the list goes on...

Tom Waits is a poet, I think we've established that! Loved that Putnam City, and I love it when he peretends to be drunk. He belongs in a piano bar or in a saloon!
I didn't even need to listen to that song to appreciate it! Which rarely happens with songs! That man...Oh!
Liked the "Get a room" and "The Bugle sounds again" too.
I've been thinking...
The magical thing about music is that it makes the words sound better when they're not even poetry. Yes lyrics are poetry and not all lyrics are poetry. I agree on that but lately I've been listening to jazz...Beepbop specifcally and you know... the blues are the kind of music where the lyrics are as far from poetry as my dog is from classical ballet! Still, it entices me! And I confess I've been "avoiding" this conversation because the song that's been stuck on my head lately is "These Foolish Things" by Ella Fitzgerald. Her voice just makes up for everything! In "It don't mean a thing if it ain't got that swing" that she sings with Duke Ellington it's around 8 minutes of relentless scat singing and a couple rhymes! Throughout the song Ella Fitzgerald laughs every once in a while because, I assume, she realizes what's coming out of her mouth...beep bop and simplistic rhymes! At some point she sings :Rain, rain go away, come back some other day!"

Music the way we know it is the merging of two arts. It's an ancient question, which one is superior to the other? I think it was Mozart who had an ongoing disagreement with the guy who wrote the libretti to his music, or maybe I'm confusing him with someone else....Anyway, I don't think here is an answer!
I love that Dylan Thomas poem! One of my favorites! And I loved your song Mindy!
I also have a deep respect and love for Edna St. Vincent Millay who if I'm not mistaken had a vivivd love for music! I particularly like her poem "Dirge Without Music" Here goes:


"I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground.
So it is, and so it will be, for so it has been, time out of mind:
Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely. Crowned
With lilies and with laurel they go; but I am not resigned.

Lovers and thinkers, into the earth with you.
Be one with the dull, the indiscriminate dust.
A fragment of what you felt, of what you knew,
A formula, a phrase remains,—but the best is lost.

The answers quick and keen, the honest look, the laughter, the love,—
They are gone. They are gone to feed the roses. Elegant and curled
Is the blossom. Fragrant is the blossom. I know. But I do not approve.
More precious was the light in your eyes than all the roses in the world.

Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave
Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind;
Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave.
I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned.


That last verse has been to me as vital as oxygen and blinking in my darkest of hours.

Here are some foolish words... Accept my apologies but I can't help it!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mshV7ug8cdE

P.S. I'd like us to talk about Pink Floyd at some point! Am i Right? Whenever we get there though, let's no rush it, I'm sure it will occur at the ripe moment!

My God, Mindy, thank YOU! The way you put it... that's it! I can read the things you say about music forever! ? Please do stay in the discussion!
I love Ella and Edna! Love'em! And music, my God... you might have noticed that I blab a lot on the site but ask me to tell you how I feel about music and I just don't have the words! Pretty much what you just said!
Thank you ?
Mae

Hi Mindy, Hi Mae,

All art forms are inseparable. A lyric may seem banal, but when it's combined with music something magical happens.

When you write, begin with a question you can't answer. You may not be able to answer it in one particular piece of work. One carries that unanswered question into the next work and the next.
Art is essentially the unnameable. The lives of others.

When one listens to some of the singers mentioned, it's as though they write and sing with the experience of the thousands dead.

They catch the earth turning. We turn with it. And we are not the same. Our perceptions, our consciousness is changed.

It's like the experience of love. Undefinable in the slant light.

Hello Alan, nice to have you back, with a profound bit of insight eloquently expressed. When it comes to poetry, for me Mindy, I love the diversity of it all, everybody has a different perspective and one of the beautiful things is to try and see the world through their eyes. I love that aspect of it. The profound, the practical, the heartbreaking and the stark, so I love the whole menu and verse set to music, was probably one of my first introductions to more complex poetry. That then led on to poetry proper.

Oh yes, and the humourous, because it's good to laugh. ?

Genuinely nice to have you back Alan.

J. x

On the subject of humour, I know this is a little off topic, as it's not musical or perhaps seriously poetic, but it made me laugh, a lot. So, I give you Joe Wilkinson reading, "Hanging About in a Train Station Toilet, Naming People's Penis's."..........

https://youtu.be/YstBl9xzz34

Mindy, I agree, cadence is very important, definitely.
Jason, that one above was one hilarious video!
Thanks both?
Mae

Legendary collaboration! The theme of the conversation is rather the influence of music on poetry and voice verca! We've moved way past Annie Lennox! Do stay?
Mae

Thanks for joining the conversation, David.

But perhaps the influence is the other way around. The voice existed before the instrument. I am not going to pretend a vast knowledge of the evolution of music, but if you consider the music of poetry when read aloud, unaccompanied, you can certainly hear the rhythms and melodies that have been codified into music theory. Just a thought.

D

Oh, I'll be holding my breath all through that! (Oh my God let this conversation bloom oh please, please, please, pretty please!!!???)
Thank you gentlemen ???Go on!
Mae

Haha Mae, I was just coming back to this after I ran to the store for some workgloves - and listening to the music of birdsong on the drive. Makes for an interesting symphony at 55mph, with the hum of the wheels underneath.

I think, well, it has been shown that we are hardwired to recognize and respond to pattern, and perhaps, just a hypothesis mind you, that poetry and music are the result of an ancient mimicry of nature's sounds and rhythms.

There is a particular example of natural music that haunts me, frightens me and vexes me to this day. I've only heard it once, while on LSD (don't judge me, it was a long time ago.) The sound was of the undertow down at the ocean in Maryland, more powerful in its portent than the breakers above. One day I hope to capture it, somehow, with words. I would love to get David's thoughts on this.


D

No such thing as judging here dear Devon! I had never thought of it that way... it can even probably be traced back to frequencies... Far fetched?
I'm also eagerly waiting for David to jump in!
X.x.?
Mae

I don't think that is far-fetched at all - pitch and timbre. Coyote calls often sound like crying babies, and that certainly stirs the heart. Many of our non-percussion instruments do a helluva a job at animal /human (as if that's different) mimicry. Also, Adrian Belew is a great example of a musician who utilizes animal sounds produced with his geetar. Check out "Elephant Talk" or "Lone Rhinoceros".

D

Oh goodie! References!!! I'm loving this! ????Will look that up and get back to you! This discussion is taking an interesting turn!
Till then I give you Nina Simone for studying with all her gasps and chanting'type singing. My absolute favorite is "Sinnerman", I don't know of you know it. It's practically a gospel song light years ahead of its era and much more evolved from the rest of its genre if you ask me.
Here you go! Enjoy!

https://youtu.be/QH3Fx41Jpl4

It's long but be patient, listen through, it's 100% worth it!?

Mae

Greetings All,

I just joined this WOL site and posted a few poems and now have found this amazing discussion, so I am quite happy.

I love Leonard Cohen (him reading his own poems...Audible...really makes me think he does not need the music but I love that too).

Waits is another favorite of mine songwriter/poet. I also love the simplicity of some of John Prine, James Taylor, Cat Stevens and even Kris Kristofferson (though admittedly many of theirs do require the actual instrumentation).

Anyway, I look forward to tomorrow clicking on your names and reading some of your works. Hope you might do the same for me. I only have two on the site so far but I will add over the next couple of days.

Wordily,

Adam

Hello Adam!
Welcome! This is a long discussion that will and may never end! Join in! All those you mentionned brilliant! I am currently looking for the next gem to contribute! Meanwhile I'll dive into your work!
Thank you ?
Mae

P.S. Cute lab!

Massive Attack.

Unfinished Sympathy.


I know that I've imagined love before
And how it could be with you
Really hurt me, baby, really cut me, baby
How can you have a day without a night?
You're the book that I have opened
And now I've got to know much more
The curiousness of your potential kiss
Has got my mind and body aching
Really hurt me, baby, really cut me, baby
How can you have a day without a night?
You're the book that I have opened
And now I've got to know much more
Like a soul without a mind
In a body without a heart
I'm missing every part, hey
I, I, I
Like a soul without a mind
In a body without a heart
I'm missing every part
Like a soul without a mind
In a body without a heart
I'm missing every part
Like a soul without a mind
In a body without a heart
I'm missing every part
I don't know where this one came from
I don't know where this one came from
I don't know where this one came from

https://youtu.be/ZWmrfgj0MZI

Dear Jason,

Loved the Massive Attack song! Who hasn't felt that way at one point in our lives or another, right?

Though the link you posted is from Putbnam County, Tom Waits! But that's okay, a good song is always a good song! Another story by "Drunk Piano Man"! Lovely! .. A true troubador! ?

Since we're revisiting Tom Waits I have this little "story"

She was a middle class girl
She was in over her head
She thought she would
Stand up in the deep end

He had a bullet proof smile
He had money to burn
She thought she had the moon
In her pocket

But now she's dead
She's so dead
Forever dead and lovely now

I've always been told to
Remember this...
Don't let a fool kiss you
Never marry for love

He was hard to impress
He knew everyone's secrets
He wore her on his arm
Just like jewelry

He never gave but he got
He kept her on a leash
He's not the kind of wheel
You fall asleep at

But now she's dead
Forever dead
Forever dead and lovely now

Come closer, look deeper
You've fallen fast
Just like a plane on a
Stormy sea

She made up someone to be
She made up somewhere to be from
This is one business in the
World where that's no
Problem at all

Everything that is left
They will only plow under
Soon every one you know
Will be gone

And now she's dead
Forever dead
Forever dead and lovely now

Now she's dead
Forever dead
Forever dead and lovely now

I've always been told to
Remember this...
Don't let a kiss fool you
Never marry for love

Everything has its price [2x]
What's more romantic
Then dying in the moonlight?

Now they're all watching the sea
What's lost can never be broken
Her roots were sweet
But they were so shallow

And now she's dead
Forever dead
Forever dead and lovely now

And now she's dead
Forever dead
And she's so dead and lovely now

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XxCZC5dF8D8


AND BEAR IT WITH ME A LITTLE LONGER! Sorry for the capital letters but I had to make sure that you all didn't lose your interest or get too tired by the long Tom Waits song because, completely accidentaly I've stubmled across what may be the best love song ever written...
I don't know who on Earth "The Rescues" are, I sure have never heard of them. This song was featured in some teen drama/horror TV series I watched back when I was a teenager and early adult (don't judge!). The series has nothing to do with the spirit of the song. It was just featured in one love scene. Worth it!

Corny? Maybe? I don't know, maybe it's the haunting melody... If that's not poetry I don't know what is and if it's not... it's quite alright! I'll gladly spend the rest of my life trying to write somethinng that good even so! It's either the best love somg ever! But that may be the death rattle of the teenager in me! ?(Inner Monologue: "Rest in peace old friend, It was quite a ride but I wouldn't trade adulthood for anything!) It's okay. She died with honor! ?Here you go fellas!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XlajS_d3fHc





MY HEART WITH YOU

Waited a hundred years to see your face
and I would wait a hundred more,
if only to be near you,
to have you and to hear you.
Isn't that what time is for?

I sailed a thousand ships in search of you,
traveled to distant lands.
I dove for sunken gold,
I took what I could hold, but you're
still the greatest treasure I've held in my hands.


My love, the reason I survive,
trust we'll be together soon.
Should our fire turn to dark,
take my heart with you.

A tattered photograph my pocket holds,
I keep you secretly
I've studied every line.
You're etched upon my mind,
for not a million soldiers could take you from me

My love, the reason I survive,
trust we'll be together soon.
Should our fire turn to dark,
take my heart with you.

You...

My love, the reason I survive,
trust we'll be together soon.
Should our fire turn to dark,
take my heart with you.
take my heart with you.
take my heart with you.

Mae

So sorry Nora, only just read this (been off my game a bit recently?).
Sorry about posting the wrong link, still at least it was Tom Waits. And yes, I've never heard of The Rescues but I'd have to agree with you on the quality, it was absolutely spellbinding. You've certainly got good taste in music my friend.

J. x