Lost Cause
Beck
Your sorry eyes; they cut through bone
They make it hard to leave you alone
Leave you here wearing your wounds
Waving your guns at somebody new
Baby you're lost
Baby you're lost
Baby you're a lost cause
There's too many people you used to know
They see you coming they see you go
They know your secrets and you know theirs
This town is crazy; nobody cares
Baby you're lost
Baby you're lost
Baby you're a lost cause
I'm tired of fighting
I'm tired of fighting
Fighting for a lost cause
There's a place where you are going
You ain't never been before
No one left to watch your back now
No one standing at your door
That's what you thought love was for
Baby you're lost
Baby you're lost
Baby you're a lost cause
I'm tired of fighting
I'm tired of fighting
Fighting for a lost cause
While trying to enjoy some mindless entertainment, which seems impossible now that I'm being trained to see patterns, signs, and symbols, I noticed a familiar pattern. Aabb. Then I heard the abcbb. It presented me with an urge to turn this melancholy song into a consistent poem of the aabb ccdd etc. rhyme. For the purpose of this exercise I removed the chorus, or refrain; I'm not sure which is the correct term. Also, note that I limited myself to about eight syllables per line.
Your sorry eyes; they cut through bone
They make it hard to leave alone
Leave you here wearing awful wounds
Waving your guns at someone new
So few people already know
They see you come they see you go
They know your tears and you know theirs
This town is crazy; no one cares
There's a place where you seem to go
No one left to watch your back now
Never again you'll be before
The power of your big oak door
Pulling my dreams out of your wings
But what could all of these tears mean?
The war is over; we both lost
While fighting for a useless cause
Any suggestions on how to alleviate the awkwardness of the last line while excluding the extra syllable?
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Even Metal Heads are Well Read
She seems dressed in all the rings
Of past fatalities
So fragile yet so devious
She continues to see it
Climatic hands that press
Her temples and my chest
Enter the night that she came home
Forever
Oh (She's the only one that makes me sad)
She is everything and more
The solemn hypnotic
My Dahlia bathed in possession
She is home to me
I get nervous, perverse, when I see her it's worse
But the stress is astounding
It's now or never she's coming home
Forever
Oh (She's the only one that makes me sad)
Hard to say what caught my attention
Fixed and crazy, Aphid attraction
Carve my name in my face, to recognize
Such a pheromone cult to terrorize
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
(Yeah!)
(oh-oh)
I'm a slave, and I am a master
No restraints and, unchecked collectors
I exist through my need, to self oblige
She is something in me, that I despise
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
SHE ISN'T REAL!
I CAN'T MAKE HER REAL!
SHE ISN'T REAL!
I CAN'T MAKE HER REAL!
She isn't real (She isn't real)
I can't make her real (can't make her real)
She isn't real (She isn't real)
I can't make her real (can't make her real)
This is a song, Vermilion, by the metal band Slipknot. Even in the counterculture of the "metal heads," literary references are rampant and force alternative meaning and depth into the songs and the over all style. "Rings of past fatalities" seem to me a reference to Dante's Inferno. "The night she came home forever" can easily be interpreted as a reference to Browning's poem "Porphyria's Lover," and the final stanza can be interpreted as evidence to support this claim. "Dahlia" clearly refers to Black Dahlia, the Massachusetts murder victim who inspired a vast amount of literature and film. The Dahlia is also a flower, and the phrase "Fixed and crazy, Aphid attraction" is a poetic notion that compares her to the flower, and him, to a bug, an aphid, that cannot help but ravish her. Think on the phrase "Such a pheromone cult to terrorize." It's stunning and odd, but is open to interpretation. Since pheromones are what aids attraction, and a cult is a collection of people who partake in nonstandard thinking or practice, often times harmful ones, then how do these words offer different meanings depending to the reader? "I'm a slave, and I am a master" is a clear Biblical reference. The list goes on infinitely; it is far longer than the word requirement allows. My point is, even the most obscure of cultures look to classical poetry and literature to influence their work. Also, signs are everywhere waiting to be analyzed. Before you write a song off as noise, observe and question the content. It's shocking.
Of past fatalities
So fragile yet so devious
She continues to see it
Climatic hands that press
Her temples and my chest
Enter the night that she came home
Forever
Oh (She's the only one that makes me sad)
She is everything and more
The solemn hypnotic
My Dahlia bathed in possession
She is home to me
I get nervous, perverse, when I see her it's worse
But the stress is astounding
It's now or never she's coming home
Forever
Oh (She's the only one that makes me sad)
Hard to say what caught my attention
Fixed and crazy, Aphid attraction
Carve my name in my face, to recognize
Such a pheromone cult to terrorize
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
(Yeah!)
(oh-oh)
I'm a slave, and I am a master
No restraints and, unchecked collectors
I exist through my need, to self oblige
She is something in me, that I despise
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
SHE ISN'T REAL!
I CAN'T MAKE HER REAL!
SHE ISN'T REAL!
I CAN'T MAKE HER REAL!
She isn't real (She isn't real)
I can't make her real (can't make her real)
She isn't real (She isn't real)
I can't make her real (can't make her real)
This is a song, Vermilion, by the metal band Slipknot. Even in the counterculture of the "metal heads," literary references are rampant and force alternative meaning and depth into the songs and the over all style. "Rings of past fatalities" seem to me a reference to Dante's Inferno. "The night she came home forever" can easily be interpreted as a reference to Browning's poem "Porphyria's Lover," and the final stanza can be interpreted as evidence to support this claim. "Dahlia" clearly refers to Black Dahlia, the Massachusetts murder victim who inspired a vast amount of literature and film. The Dahlia is also a flower, and the phrase "Fixed and crazy, Aphid attraction" is a poetic notion that compares her to the flower, and him, to a bug, an aphid, that cannot help but ravish her. Think on the phrase "Such a pheromone cult to terrorize." It's stunning and odd, but is open to interpretation. Since pheromones are what aids attraction, and a cult is a collection of people who partake in nonstandard thinking or practice, often times harmful ones, then how do these words offer different meanings depending to the reader? "I'm a slave, and I am a master" is a clear Biblical reference. The list goes on infinitely; it is far longer than the word requirement allows. My point is, even the most obscure of cultures look to classical poetry and literature to influence their work. Also, signs are everywhere waiting to be analyzed. Before you write a song off as noise, observe and question the content. It's shocking.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Creative Process
I'm quickly discovering the magic of revision. Here is the first draft of a haiku I'm trying to "make work." Please bear in mind that I chose to this particular form because I want the concentration in the tone, even though the subject matter is not the norm.
Bones beneath the skin
Shimmers as ice on the like
Warm as the cabbin
It didn't have the coherency I wanted, so I move some words around.
Warm as the cabbin
Shimmering ice on a lake
Bones beneath the skin
I wanted to incorporate more of the weather inspired, seasonal elements so I tried to make the bones less predominate.
Warmth from the cabbin
Like bones hovering beneath
Shimmers on the lake
Still, I'm not satisfied with my current draft. I'm looking for words to secure the content but ease the subject matter into the message. The idea is convey an image of the light reflecting off the ice in the same way light bounces off bones hovering beneath the skin. Imagine a mother's hands. That's a lot to accomplish, I know, but poetry is about creation. I want this message in this form. Now I need the best words to convey it.
Bones beneath the skin
Shimmers as ice on the like
Warm as the cabbin
It didn't have the coherency I wanted, so I move some words around.
Warm as the cabbin
Shimmering ice on a lake
Bones beneath the skin
I wanted to incorporate more of the weather inspired, seasonal elements so I tried to make the bones less predominate.
Warmth from the cabbin
Like bones hovering beneath
Shimmers on the lake
Still, I'm not satisfied with my current draft. I'm looking for words to secure the content but ease the subject matter into the message. The idea is convey an image of the light reflecting off the ice in the same way light bounces off bones hovering beneath the skin. Imagine a mother's hands. That's a lot to accomplish, I know, but poetry is about creation. I want this message in this form. Now I need the best words to convey it.
Friday, February 5, 2010
Open Mouth Insert Foot
At some point everybody makes a comment that acquires blank stares and inappropriate giggles. Sometimes it takes a long time to laugh about certain incidents. One time, I was enjoying my afternoon at a friend's horse facility and her farrier was present. David, the farrier, was in his early forties, and I couldn't help but notice he wasn't wearing a ring. I ask "David, you're a young guy. If you don't mind my asking, are you married?"
He responds in an exaggerated drawl, "Ohhhh no. I went through that rodeo once and I ain't ever doin' it again."
I took this to mean he had experienced a rather unpleasant divorce. I muster all my tact to approach the subject, and respond with, "What? Was she a bitch?" At this point my darling friend pipes up with a bewildered look upon her face. She replies to my question on his behalf "No, Ashley, she's dead. she died of a brain tumor." I began to cry. I cried inconsolably for hours, stuttering apologies. They both laughed and assured me the situation wasn't as bad as it sounded. Jesse passed roughly ten years prior to my inserting both size ten point five shoes into my mouth. I learned a valuable lesson that day: keep your mouth shut, and never ask personal questions until you know someone for more than five minutes.
He responds in an exaggerated drawl, "Ohhhh no. I went through that rodeo once and I ain't ever doin' it again."
I took this to mean he had experienced a rather unpleasant divorce. I muster all my tact to approach the subject, and respond with, "What? Was she a bitch?" At this point my darling friend pipes up with a bewildered look upon her face. She replies to my question on his behalf "No, Ashley, she's dead. she died of a brain tumor." I began to cry. I cried inconsolably for hours, stuttering apologies. They both laughed and assured me the situation wasn't as bad as it sounded. Jesse passed roughly ten years prior to my inserting both size ten point five shoes into my mouth. I learned a valuable lesson that day: keep your mouth shut, and never ask personal questions until you know someone for more than five minutes.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
The Beginning of a Stanza Piece
Unholy Occurrence
It was more than a loss of life endured
The self lets go the spirit follows
Across the bridge are footsteps heard
Fear like blood washed the Hollows
Women, children, not one spared
Civil war commands men to garner
A village dissolved in the same nightmare
Terrorized by a spirit darner
And then I drew a blank. A long one. The legend of the Headless Horseman is a favorite story of mine, and I wished to retell it in my own words, in my own way. The historic setting is perfect, I feel, for the abab cdcd etc. form. However, this version of the tale is more closely related to the 1999 Tim Burton film than the 1820 story by Washington Irving. The first two lines refers to the fact that it was a spiritual force that drove the horseman to act. In the film, a woman possessing his skull controlled the murders, though the town felt they were at random. The idea of random killings, by a spirit, raises the town into an uproar. The men watch for the big black horse in shifts and are ready to attack. In the legend, the crossing of the bridge is the gateway of the unknown; the hessian soldier (in Irving's story) turns into a skeleton upon crossing. I'm looking to complete the tale but the two stanzas almost feel complete to me. Suggestions are most appreciated.
It was more than a loss of life endured
The self lets go the spirit follows
Across the bridge are footsteps heard
Fear like blood washed the Hollows
Women, children, not one spared
Civil war commands men to garner
A village dissolved in the same nightmare
Terrorized by a spirit darner
And then I drew a blank. A long one. The legend of the Headless Horseman is a favorite story of mine, and I wished to retell it in my own words, in my own way. The historic setting is perfect, I feel, for the abab cdcd etc. form. However, this version of the tale is more closely related to the 1999 Tim Burton film than the 1820 story by Washington Irving. The first two lines refers to the fact that it was a spiritual force that drove the horseman to act. In the film, a woman possessing his skull controlled the murders, though the town felt they were at random. The idea of random killings, by a spirit, raises the town into an uproar. The men watch for the big black horse in shifts and are ready to attack. In the legend, the crossing of the bridge is the gateway of the unknown; the hessian soldier (in Irving's story) turns into a skeleton upon crossing. I'm looking to complete the tale but the two stanzas almost feel complete to me. Suggestions are most appreciated.
Saturday, January 30, 2010
My Favorite Couplet
The Comfort of Nite
The day was beautiful, the twilight is long
off in the distance, I hear a bird's song.
He's saying goodnight as the light passes by,
and darkness approaches to cover the sky.
But the cover of night is no reason for woe,
for it filters out trouble from the world down below.
Night seems to bring comfort and peace,
and turmoil and tension just seem to cease.
Away from the world, in the comfort of home,
our problems drift off, our minds free to roam.
You close your eyes and relax just a bit,
all at once the puzzles seem to fit.
The answers to problems that once were not found
are dancing like asters in the air all around,
for darkness slips by and a new day is here,
promising hope and a day of new cheer.
So darkness you see has a mystical power-
from a troubled seed it brings a bright flower.
So don't look to twilight with fright or despair,
for night plus the dawn brings love, hope and care.
~Bob Cray
The words of this couplet, in the order they follow one another, invokes a swell of emotions. The way the words rhyme at the end of each stanza flow together effortlessly. A clear message is conveyed, and punctuation is used as a subtle guide, not a glaring map. I feel if the lines were combined, it would lose most of its message; it would look to simple and feel too complex. While this poem certainly will not appeal to many readers, the use of form is clearly, undeniably, well done. Bob Cray intentionally put his "best words in their best order."
The day was beautiful, the twilight is long
off in the distance, I hear a bird's song.
He's saying goodnight as the light passes by,
and darkness approaches to cover the sky.
But the cover of night is no reason for woe,
for it filters out trouble from the world down below.
Night seems to bring comfort and peace,
and turmoil and tension just seem to cease.
Away from the world, in the comfort of home,
our problems drift off, our minds free to roam.
You close your eyes and relax just a bit,
all at once the puzzles seem to fit.
The answers to problems that once were not found
are dancing like asters in the air all around,
for darkness slips by and a new day is here,
promising hope and a day of new cheer.
So darkness you see has a mystical power-
from a troubled seed it brings a bright flower.
So don't look to twilight with fright or despair,
for night plus the dawn brings love, hope and care.
~Bob Cray
The words of this couplet, in the order they follow one another, invokes a swell of emotions. The way the words rhyme at the end of each stanza flow together effortlessly. A clear message is conveyed, and punctuation is used as a subtle guide, not a glaring map. I feel if the lines were combined, it would lose most of its message; it would look to simple and feel too complex. While this poem certainly will not appeal to many readers, the use of form is clearly, undeniably, well done. Bob Cray intentionally put his "best words in their best order."
Friday, January 29, 2010
Basho's Haiku
Evening darkens. Hunched
On a withered bough, a crow.
Autumn in the air.
It amazes me how in thirteen words, everything that needs saying is, simply, said. As a young and inexperienced writer, it seems difficult to stop at a specific point, and it seems impossible to put the content into words that fit a specific pattern. This poem contains images that don't need an explanation of colors or textures. All is embodied in the chosen words. The words and lines work together as a team to create one magnificent piece. After reading this I am left with an image of a wooded skyline with a hint of red lingering in the blackness, and a bird resting on a ceder branch surrounded by hundreds of other tree's orange leaves.
On a withered bough, a crow.
Autumn in the air.
It amazes me how in thirteen words, everything that needs saying is, simply, said. As a young and inexperienced writer, it seems difficult to stop at a specific point, and it seems impossible to put the content into words that fit a specific pattern. This poem contains images that don't need an explanation of colors or textures. All is embodied in the chosen words. The words and lines work together as a team to create one magnificent piece. After reading this I am left with an image of a wooded skyline with a hint of red lingering in the blackness, and a bird resting on a ceder branch surrounded by hundreds of other tree's orange leaves.
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