Been online so many times yet continuously disappointed by the overall quality of poetry available. Poems about nothing worthwhile, lacking depth, humor, point, need I go on. If that's the level neccessary to thrive then I despair. I prefer to be inspired by some of the excellent song lyrics by so many songwriters / groups. Whether it be Metallica - Unforgiven / Elvis Costello - Watching The Detectives / Leonard Cohen - Sisters Of Mercy / The Eagles - Hotel California / Pink Floyd - Comfortably Numb etc... ( Check them out ). Surely you'll learn more concentrating your efforts and energies in this area or art.
Know you of any brilliant song lyrics ?
Smiths maybe ? / Beatles possibly ? / Alanis Morrissette perhaps ? .....
The Eagles - Hotel California
On a dark desert highway Cool wind in my hair Warm smell of colitas Rising up through the air Up ahead in the distance I saw a shimmering light My head grew heavy, and my sight grew dim I had to stop for the night There she stood in the doorway I heard the mission bell And I was thinking to myself This could be Heaven or this could be Hell Then she lit up a candle And she showed me the way There were voices down the corridor I thought I heard them say Welcome to the Hotel California Such a lovely place Such a lovely face Plenty of room at the Hotel California, Any time of yearYou can find it here Her mind is Tiffany twisted She's got the Mercedes bends She's got a lot of pretty, pretty boys, That she calls friends How they dance in the courtyard Sweet summer sweat Some dance to remember Some dance to forget So I called up the Captain Please bring me my wine He said We haven't had that spirit here since 1969 And still those voices are calling from far away Wake you up in the middle of the night Just to hear them say Welcome to the Hotel California Such a lovely Place Such a lovely face They're livin' it up at the Hotel California What Bring your alibies Mirrors on the ceiling Pink champagne on ice And she said We are all just prisoners here Of our own device And in the master's chambers They gathered for the feast They stab it with their steely knives
But they just can't kill the beast
Last thing I remember I was running for the door I had to find the passage back to the place I was before Relax said the nightman We are programed to receive You can check out any time you like But you can never leave
...............
Keith West - Excerpt From A Teenage Opera
Count the days into yearshis eighty two brings many fearsYesterday's laughter turned to tearshis arms and legs don't feel so stronghis heart is weak, there's something wrongOpens windows in despairtries to breathe in some fresh airhis conscience cries: "Get on your feet.without you, Jack, the town can't eat".Grocer Jack, grocer Jack. get off your back.go into town. don't let them down. Oh no. no.Grocer jack. grocer Jack. get off your back.go into town, don't let them down, Oh no. no.The people that live in the towndon't understandHe's never been known to miss his round,"It's ten-o'clock", the housewives yell."When Jack turns up we'll 'give him hell."[ these lyrics found on http://www.completealbumlyrics.com ]Husbands moan at breakfast tablesNo milk. no egg. no marmalade labelsMothers send their children outto Jack's house to scream and shoutGrocer Jack, grocer Jack. get off your backcome into town. don't let us down. Oh no. no.Grocer Jack, grocer Jack. get off your backcome into town. don't let us down. Oh no. no.A Sunday morning bright and clearLovely flowers decorate the marvellous squarePeople cry and walk away and think about the fateful dayNow they wish they'd given Jack more affection and respectLittle children dressed in black don't know what happened to old JackGrocer Jack, grocer Jack, is it true what mummy says,you won't come back, oh no, oh noGrocer Jack, grocer Jack, is it true what mummy says,you won't come back, oh no, oh no
or possibly you know of some decent poetry.
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Art For Art's Sake........Money For God's Sake
Genuine art such as Beethoven, Van Gogh, Shakespeare induce progressive productivity and helps stave off negativity, boredom and depression from which crime and misadventure manufacture, as the media know too well. Only too happy to render their audience docile. A docile mind asks no questions and puts up no resistance as they continue to bombard with low standard entertainment in abundance. No wiser, they absorb and eventually malfunction, as they struggle to decipher the corrupt messages alongside their parents high standards, with random displays of anger, violence and contempt. A brilliant concert pianist will surely encourage creative industry to follow suit, arousing and stimulating an audiences admiration and wonder as to their present pinnacle. With many wishing to develop their own brand or artistry in any aspect, thus leaving little or no time for tomfoolery. An overall repect for themselves, their fellow beings and their surroundings will automatically evolve.Rather than some lacklustre interpretation of art, paraded in the guise of some so called artist fancifully dashing paint on a giant canvass then continually rolling back and forth for a fortnight without pausing for refreshments or natural sanitary duties, while dressed in a tu'tu.Later to be displayed as art in some fancy art gallery, with it's significance orated by some distinguished critic. This only acts to encourage the naive and misguided youth to regurgitate such input with own brand of kak. Is this really art? Ask yourself, could someone with no artistic qualities produce the same? If the answer is yes chances are it's probably not. As true art surely demands some degree of hard work, study, practice and talent. Did Van Gogh suddenly slip out of his mother's womb, pick up a paint brush and start painting like a pro? Or did his talents evolve through the years by means of practice to reach his brilliant standard and eventually master his artistic ability with many works of art? Then die disillusioned and penniless only to witness from the other side many years later anothers opportunity to jump out of one's bed, to spend a penny perhaps, return feeling groggy from drink perhaps and behold before one's very eyes a work of art, in the form of a bed never to be made but preserved in it's present state. Fame and fortune beckons with no need for study, practice or genuine ability and an inspiration for all lazy students and connoisseurs alike. So that's how you do it.
You can visit my site....if you wish ( for short story with poetic interruptions ) if you like that sort of thing: http://www.wickedrhyme.com/
