Updates from June, 2010 Toggle Comment Threads | Keyboard Shortcuts

  • Leon 2:33 pm on June 17, 2010 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: doors of perception, introduction, , marriage of heaven and hell, piping down the valley's wild, , ,   

    William Blake Songs of Innocence 

    I like Blake’s poetry and got into him through the Doors who were also influenced by his “the Marriage of Heaven and Hell” which speaks “If the doors of perception were cleansed every thing would appear to man as it is, infinite….”. I chose to add music to the “Introduction” to Blake’s “Songs of Innocence” poetry collection.

    Here are the words, followed by my music (early effort!):

    Piping down the valleys wild,
    Piping songs of pleasant glee,
    On a cloud I saw a child,
    And he laughing said to me:

    “Pipe a song about a Lamb!”
    So I piped with a merry chear.
    “Piper, pipe that song again;”
    So I piped: he wept to hear.

    “Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe;
    Sing thy songs of happy chear:”
    So I sung the same again,
    While he wept with joy to hear.

    “Piper, sit thee down and write
    In a book, that all may read.”
    So he vanish’d from my sight,
    And I pluck’d a hollow reed,

    And I made a rural pen,
    And I stain’d the water clear,
    And I wrote my happy songs,
    Every child may joy to hear.

     
  • Leon 4:43 pm on December 21, 2007 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: allen ginsberg, howl   

    Allen Ginsberg 

    “Howl” (extract)

    I saw the best minds of my generation
    destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked,
    Dragging themselves through the Negro streets
    at dawn looking for an angry fix,
    Angel-headed hipsters burning for the
    ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo
    in the machinery of night,
    Who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high
    sat up smoking in the supernatural Darkness of
    coldwater flats floating across the tops of cities
    contemplating jazz…..

     
  • Leon 4:39 pm on December 21, 2007 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: curses and invocations,   

    Jim Morrison 

    “Curses And Invocations”

    Weird, bait-headed mongrels,
    I keep expecting one of you to rise.
    Large, buxom, obese queens,
    Garden hogs and cunt veterans,
    Quaint, cabbage saints,
    Shit hoarders and individualists,
    Drag-strip officials,
    Tight lipped losers
    And lustful fuck salesmen.
    My militant dandies,
    All strange order of monsters
    Hot on the trail of the wood vine,
    We welcome you to our procession.

     
  • Leon 4:39 pm on December 21, 2007 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: ,   

    William Blake 

    “Songs Of Innocence – Introduction”

    Piping down the valleys wild
    Piping songs of pleasant glee
    On a cloud I saw a child,
    And he laughing said to me,

    “Pipe a song about a lamb”;
    so I piped with merry chear.
    “Piper pipe that song again”
    -so I piped, he wept to hear.
    “Drop thy pipe thy happy pipe
    Sing thy songs of happy chear”;
    So I sung the same again
    While he wept with joy to hear.

    “Piper sit thee down and write
    in a book that all may read”
    -So he vanish’d from my sight.
    And I plucked a hollow reed,

    And I made a rural pen,
    And I stain’d the water clear,
    And I wrote my happy songs
    Every child may joy to hear.

     
  • Leon 4:36 pm on December 21, 2007 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: mid term break, Seamus Heaney   

    Seamus Heaney 

    “Mid-Term Break”

    I sat all morning in the college sick bay
    Counting bells knelling classes to a close.
    At two o’ clock our neighbors drove me home. In the porch I met my father crying-
    He had always taken funerals in his stride-And big Jim Evans saying it was a hard blow.
    The baby cooed and laughed and rocked the pram
    When I came in, and I was embarrassed
    By old men standing up to shake my hand
    And tell me they were “sorry for my trouble”,
    Whispers informed strangers I was the eldest,
    Away at school, as my mother held my hand
    In hers and coughed out angry tear less sighs.
    At ten o’clock the ambulance arrived With the corpse, stanched and bandaged by the nurses.

    Next morning I went up into the room. Snowdrops
    And candles soothed the bedside; I saw him
    For the first time in six weeks. Paler now,
    Wearing a poppy bruise on his left temple,
    He lay in the four foot box as in his cot.
    No gaudy scars, the bumper knocked him clear.

    A four foot box, a foot for every year.

     
  • Leon 4:35 pm on December 21, 2007 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: because I could not stop for death, emily dikinson   

    Emily Dikinson 

    “Because I Could Not Stop For Death”

    Because I could not stop for death-
    He kindly stopped for me-
    The carriage held but just ourselves-
    And immortality.We slowly drove-He knew no haste
    And I had put away
    My labour and my leisure too,
    For his civility-We passed the school, where children strove
    At recess-in the ring-
    We passed the fields of gazing grain-
    We passed the setting sun-Or rather-he passed us-
    The dews drew quivering and chill-
    For only gossamer, my gown-
    My tippet-only tulle-

    We paused before a house that seemed
    A swelling of the ground-
    The roof was scarcely visible-
    The cornice-in the ground-

    Since then- tis centuries-and yet
    Feels shorter than a day
    I first surmised the horses heads
    Were toward eternity-.

     
c
Compose new post
j
Next post/Next comment
k
Previous post/Previous comment
r
Reply
e
Edit
o
Show/Hide comments
t
Go to top
l
Go to login
h
Show/Hide help
shift + esc
Cancel
%d bloggers like this: