by Donald Fagen
I would love to tour the Southland
In a travelling minstrel show
Yes, I'd love to tour the Southland
In a traveling minstrel show
Yes, I'm dying to be a star and make them laugh
Sound just like a record on the phonograph
Those days are gone forever
Over a long time ago
I have never met Napoleon
But I plan to find the time
I have never met Napoleon
But I plan to find the time
'Cause he looks so fine upon that hill
They tell me he was lonely, he's lonely still
Those days are gone forever
Over a long time ago
I stepped up on the platform
The man gave me the news
He said, 'You must be joking, son
'Where did you get those shoes?'
Well, I've seen them on the TV, the movie show
They say the times are changing, but I just don't know
These things are gone forever
Over a long time ago
Thursday, September 6, 2018
Pretzel Logic
Posted by Steven A Mitchell 0 comments
Labels: anticipation, melancholia, memory, nonsense, romanticism, time
Wednesday, August 1, 2018
How Soon Is Now?
by Steven Morrissey
I am the son and the heir
Of a shyness that is criminally vulgar
I am the son and heir
Of nothing in particular
You shut your mouth
How can you say
I go about things the wrong way?
I am human, and I need to be loved
Just like everybody else does
There's a club, if you'd like to go
You could meet somebody who really loves you
So you go, and you stand on your own
And you leave on your own
And you go home, and you cry, and you want to die
When you say it's gonna happen now
Well, when exactly do you mean?
See, I've already waited too long
And all my hope is gone
Posted by Steven A Mitchell 0 comments
Labels: anxiety, disharmony, doubt, frustration, longing, melancholia
Wednesday, April 4, 2018
Atlantis
by W.H. Auden
Being set on the idea
Of getting to Atlantis,
You have discovered of course
Only the Ship of Fools is
Making the voyage this year,
As gales of abnormal force
Are predicted, and that you
Must therefore be ready to
Behave absurdly enough
To pass for one of The Boys,
At least appearing to love
Hard liquor, horseplay and noise.
Should storms, as may well happen,
Drive you to anchor a week
In some old harbour-city
Of Ionia, then speak
With her witty sholars, men
Who have proved there cannot be
Such a place as Atlantis:
Learn their logic, but notice
How its subtlety betrays
Their enormous simple grief;
Thus they shall teach you the ways
To doubt that you may believe.
If, later, you run aground
Among the headlands of Thrace,
Where with torches all night long
A naked barbaric race
Leaps frenziedly to the sound
Of conch and dissonant gong:
On that stony savage shore
Strip off your clothes and dance, for
Unless you are capable
Of forgetting completely
About Atlantis, you will
Never finish your journey.
Again, should you come to gay
Carthage or Corinth, take part
In their endless gaiety;
And if in some bar a tart,
As she strokes your hair, should say
"This is Atlantis, dearie,"
Listen with attentiveness
To her life-story: unless
You become acquainted now
With each refuge that tries to
Counterfeit Atlantis, how
Will you recognise the true?
Assuming you beach at last
Near Atlantis, and begin
That terrible trek inland
Through squalid woods and frozen
Thundras where all are soon lost;
If, forsaken then, you stand,
Dismissal everywhere,
Stone and now, silence and air,
O remember the great dead
And honour the fate you are,
Travelling and tormented,
Dialectic and bizarre.
Stagger onward rejoicing;
And even then if, perhaps
Having actually got
To the last col, you collapse
With all Atlantis shining
Below you yet you cannot
Descend, you should still be proud
Even to have been allowed
Just to peep at Atlantis
In a poetic vision:
Give thanks and lie down in peace,
Having seen your salvation.
All the little household gods
Have started crying, but say
Good-bye now, and put to sea.
Farewell, my dear, farewell: may
Hermes, master of the roads,
And the four dwarf Kabiri,
Protect and serve you always;
And may the Ancient of Days
Provide for all you must do
His invisible guidance,
Lifting up, dear, upon you
The light of His countenance.
Posted by Steven A Mitchell 0 comments
Labels: anticipation, hope, longing, poetry
Wednesday, March 7, 2018
Strawberry Fields Forever
by John Lennon
Let me take you down
'Cause I'm going to Strawberry Fields
Nothing is real
And nothing to get hung about
Strawberry Fields forever
Living is easy with eyes closed
Misunderstanding all you see
It's getting hard to be someone
But it all works out
It doesn't matter much to me
No one I think is in my tree
I mean it must be high or low
That is you can't, you know, tune in
But it's all right
That is, I think it's not too bad
Always, no sometimes, think it's me
But you know I know when it's a dream
I think I know, I mean, a 'Yes'
But it's all wrong
That is I think I disagree
Posted by Steven A Mitchell 0 comments
Labels: language, nonsense, surrealism
Wednesday, January 24, 2018
Tea-Soaked Letter
by Anna Burch
Strange, the ones you love
Could bury your body underground
I woke up too late again
Would you start the coffee, my only friend?
I forgot to fake
The way that I was feeling
I guess it's too late
Now all my cards are showing
No, you can't come up
Who am I kidding? I would drag you up
What was that you said?
That I don't exist inside your head?
You said you communicate better
So what will you send me?
A tea-soaked letter?
I feel so alone
When everyone in town is overblown
So I made a scene
I can think of things more embarrassing
I forgot to fake
The way that I was feeling
I guess it's too late
Now all my cards are showing
You said you communicate better
So what will you send me?
A tea-soaked letter?
You're all I wanted
Posted by Steven A Mitchell 0 comments
Sunday, December 31, 2017
A Dream Without Pain
by Nicole Atkins
I woke up from a nightmare to a dream
I've been known for singin in my sleep
It's all been such a blur
The devil's had his turn
May my path be lit up by the bridges that I've burned
Say goodbye to Santa Fe
You and I will never be the same
Bye to sorrow and to blame
I want a dream without pain
I woke up from a nightmare to a dream
Riding shotgun in the mercy seat
It's all been such a blur
And now I've found the nerve
May my path be lit up by the bridges that I've burned
Ellum's deep and Austin's low
You can stay there but I have to go
You can stand there in the flames
I want a dream without pain
I woke up from a nightmare to a dream
The most beautiful dream
Posted by Steven A Mitchell 0 comments
Labels: anticipation, change, dream
Monday, December 25, 2017
Gaudete
from Piae Cantiones
Gaudete, gaudete!
Christus est natus
ex Maria virgine
gaudete!
Tempus adest gratiae
hoc quod optabamus
carmina laetitiae
devote reddamus
Deus homo factus est
natura mirante
mundus renovatus est
a Christo regnante
Ezechielis porta
clausa pertransitur
unde lux est orta
salus invenitur
Ergo nostra concio
psallat iam in lustro
benedicat Domino
salus Regi nostro
Gaudete, gaudete!
Christus est natus
ex Maria virgine
gaudete!