Whenever I think about my poetry I experience a quickening of breath and that delicious feeling that comes just before a birthday, Christmas, sex and a cup of tea. I am forever chasing the perfect poem, the ultimate word, the right expression.
I love that certain Masters of Lexicon deliver their genius through music. Understanding, of course, that notes, phrases and beats are a language of their own. I still tend to drift to the spoken.
I was able to see one of greatest poets of my time in a solo show last week. I haven't posted about it yet because I still feel very raw and emotional about the whole experience.
Truth be told there are times when it's better to just let the Master do all the talking...
Here are your beautiful words...
I've used hammers made out of wood
I have played games with pieces and rules
I've undeciphered tricks at the bar
But now you're gone, I haven't figured out why
I've come up with riddles and jokes about war
I figured out numbers and what they're for
I've understood feelings and I've understood words but,
How could you be taken away?
And wherever you've gone, and wherever we might go
It don't seem fair - today just disappeared
Your lights reflected now, reflected from afar
We were but stones - your light made us stars
I have played games with pieces and rules
I've undeciphered tricks at the bar
But now you're gone, I haven't figured out why
I've come up with riddles and jokes about war
I figured out numbers and what they're for
I've understood feelings and I've understood words but,
How could you be taken away?
And wherever you've gone, and wherever we might go
It don't seem fair - today just disappeared
Your lights reflected now, reflected from afar
We were but stones - your light made us stars
(From the song Light Years, Album:Binaural
Band:Pearl Jam)
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