In the Papers
The voices speak
Themselves
Forward
Into my attention
The black voices
From the south part of the city
For their protection
From the pain they feel each day
The voices from the street people
For their needs
Against the constant assault
Of the authorities
Taking away
Pushing them out
The voices
My friend’s newspaper brings
Against capitalism
Against the meanness of heart
Three alternative papers
This week
Asking for attention
Within and against
The ‘larger world’
On the edge
A cracking egg
I've noticed that your poetry is more political and less introspective than many. I don't know whether that adds or takes from the quality of it. Probably neither.. I would love to hear something completely personal from you? Curious what kind of verse that would come out to be like
-with love
A good read Peter, I enjoyed this one.
Les
Re: Lyric Central #20
Posted by: petersz (24.7.60.---)
Date: July 04, 2021 10:00AM
Tombstone Blues Lyrics
by Bob Dylan
The sweet pretty things are in bed now of course
The city fathers they're trying to endorse
The reincarnation of Paul Revere's horse
But the town has no need to be nervous.
The ghost of Belle Star she hands down her wits
To Jezebel the nun she violently knits
A bald wig for Jack the Ripper who sits
At the head of the chamber of commerce.
Mama's in the fact'ry
She ain't got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley
He's lookin' for food.
I'm in the kitchen
With the tombstone blues.
The hysterical bride in the penny arcade
Screaming she moans, "I've just been made"
Then sends out for the doctor who pulls down the shade
Says, "My advice is to not let the boys in".
Now the medicine man comes and he shuffles inside
He walks with a swagger and he says to be bride
"Stop all this weeping, swallow your pride
You will not die, it's not poison".
Mama's in the fact'ry
She ain't got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley
He's lookin' for food.
I'm in the kitchen
With the tombstone blues.
Well, John the Baptist after torturing a thief
Looks up at his hero the Commander-in-Chief
Saying, "Tell me great hero, but please make it brief
Is there a hole for me to get sick in ?"
The Commander-in-Chief answers him while chasing a fly
Saying, "Death to all those who would whimper and cry"
And dropping a bar bell he points to the sky
Saying, "The sun's not yellow it's chicken.
Mama's in the fact'ry
She ain't got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley
He's lookin' for food.
I'm in the kitchen
With the tombstone blues.
The king of the Philistines his soldiers to save
Put jawbones on their tombstones and flatters their graves
Puts the pied pipers in prison and fattens the slaves
Then sends them out to the jungle.
Gypsy Davey with a blowtorch he bums out their camps
With his faithful slave Pedro behind him he tramps
With a fantastic collection of stamps
To win friends and influence his uncle.
Mama's in the fact'ry
She ain't got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley
He's lookin' for food.
I'm in trouble
With the tombstone blues.
The geometry of innocent flesh on the bone
Causes Galileo's math book to get thrown
At Delilah who's sitting worthlessly alone
But the tears on her cheeks are from laughter.
Now I wish I could give Brother Bill his great thrill
I would set him in chains at the top of the hill
Then send out for some pillars and Cecil B. DeMille
He could die happily ever after.
Mama's in the fact'ry
She ain't got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley
He's lookin' for food
I'm in the kitchen
With the tombstone blues.
Where Ma Raney and Beethoven once unwrapped their bed roll
Tuba players now rehearse around the flagpole
And the National Bank at a profit sells road maps of the soul
To the old folks home and the college.
Now I wish I could write you a melody so plain
That could hold you dear lady from going insane
That could ease you and cool you and cease the pain
Of your useless and pointless knowledge
Mama's in the fact'ry
She ain't got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley
He's lookin' for food
I'm in the kitchen
With the tombstone blues.
Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 07/05/2022 01:29PM by petersz.
seriously, Fickled, if you do a search on 'Peter' for the last year or indefinitely, you will find that almost all the poems I'd posted were strictly personal in a larger sense. I have included a political element into my work because I've wanted to include more of my larger world, the world I live in, in my work. I do think a merely political poem is less poetic and I feel a merely personal poem may not be a poem at all,..poetry tends to be about more than just oneself. Freud talks about sublimation being a source of culture and civilization.
I would contend that every poem is also about poetry.
Anyway, I'm suprised the political dimension in my recent work stands out as much as to warrant your comment.
amo et avanti,
Peter
I accidentally included the Dylan lyric but left it in as it was pertinent to the question.
i suppose sentimentality is a language with an infinite number of dialects (because people are born everyday and therefore new ones form). ill do my best to understand the personal side of your works in the future. all i have read lately seems more political. perhaps in the past it was different. maybe im blind. oh well.
ps. Bob Dylan is one of my favorite songwriters/musicians. nice choice for the song despite posting it by mistake.
-with love
you're not blind. I just write what I write, whatever that is.
amo et avanti,
Peter
Peter, excellent....
Thanks, Shery.
Amo et avanti,
Peter
Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 03/30/2011 09:28PM by petersz.