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Elton John

I've only been interested in the artistic side of life.

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The Wild Side Of Life

( w. warren / a. carter)
You wouldnt read my letters if I wrote them
You ask me not to call you on the phone
But theres something Ive been waiting for to tell you
So I wrote it in the words of this song
Chorus:
I didnt know God made honky tonk angels
I might have known youd never make a wife
You gave up the only one that ever loved you
And went on back to the wild side of life
The glamour of the gay nightlife has lured you
To the places where the wine and liquor flow
Where you wait to be somebody elses baby
And forget the truest love youll ever know
(chorus)
The glamour of the gay nightlife has lured you
To the places where the wine and liquor flow
Where you wait to be somebody elses baby
And forget the truest love youll ever know
(chorus)

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On to the lighter side of life

Time for the lighter side of life
Like standing on a garden seeing flowers bloom
In a constant rain
Looking at
Red petals of a china rose,

Seeing a yellow butterfly
So lightly floating in air, fluttering
A very light sight
You seldom see, you have been too
Contained inside
The theoretical workings of your mind,

You are touching leaves
Of a maiden’s hair, it feels so light
Some morning dews like pearls still
Attached to a white rose
You touch it with your fingers,
It feels so light, you take some deep breaths
And some sighs, you stretch your body,
Touching some dancing ladies
In full array in bloom in
Sunshine, you touch sunlight

It feels so light, so light you feel like
You are levitating to all these now
You miss these lighter things,

Your head is heavy with a lot of nonsense things,
Your neck pains, your heart pains,
Perhaps it is time to breathe,

now embrace these lighter things.

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The Other Side Of Life

The atmosphere
On the streets tonight
Is the driving beat
Of the world
The word down here
On the streets tonight
Is the truest music
Youve heard
So take your share
Of the gifts that are there
They all belong to you
And come what may
At the break of each day
We all begin anew once more
We all begin anew
Baby, baby, baby, lets investigate
The other side of life tonight
The lovers and the fighters
And the risks they take
Are on the other side of life tonight
Lets loose our way
Go completely astray
And find ourselves again
You know the only way to get there
Is to take that step
To the other side of life tonight
The atmosphere
On the streets tonight
Is the driving beat
Of the world
The word down here
On the streets tonight
Is the truest music
Youve heard
So take your share
Of the gifts that are there
They all belong to you
And come what may
At the break of each day
We all begin anew once more
We all begin anew
Baby, baby, baby, lets investigate
The other side of life tonight
The lovers and the fighters
And the risks they take
Are on the other side of life tonight
Lets loose our way
Go completely astray
And find ourselves again
You know the only way to get there
Is to take that step
To the other side of life tonight

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From the Docile Side of Life!

Sucked into an imploding vortex?
If that is what one chooses to accept...
Why take steps...
To follow as expected?

Be a rebel!
Be a maverick!
Be decidedly inventive.
And escape,
From the docile side of life!

So entertained,
And influenced...
By those distant!
Easily managed.
And

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The Other Side Of Life

(alan obryant)
Praise God I feel like singing
Im on the other side of life now
All my days of sorrow
And tears for my loved ones
I wish I could tell them the door that I feel
Though my body is weary
My soul is uplifted
My sins are forgiven and my jesus is real
Praise God I feel like singing
Im on the other side of life now
Though my eyes are dim
I see heaven clearly
Though my voice grows feeble I sing just the same
In my heart theres a song
As I see the gates open
Ill sing forever my joyous refrain
Praise God I feel like singing
Im on the other side of life now
Praise God I feel like singing
Im on the other side of life now

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Drive On The Young Side Of Life

Your mother she protected you
And softened every blow
And brought you up to fear the worst
To be careful as you go
And the learned educators
With drip-feed [thrifty? ] facts to fill
You up to here with reason
Well-meaning overkill
If you find yourself a-growing
To be old before your time
Get off the endless corridor
Set your soul out on the line
Drive on the young side of life
When the pressure pains are building
And youre forced to join the crush
In the race to mediocrity
So respectable and plush
And while the child within is raging
And threatens to break out
Get off the endless corridor
Make a timely turnabout
Drive on the young side of life.

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The Other Side Of Life

(david gates)
So, as you go to find yourself
Dont look too hard
You may pass yourself by
Reaching too high
Wanting the other side of life
And as you go to take your place
Dont go too fast
Just pretend theres no end
Make yourself last
til the other side of life
One day youll find your restless
Searching at an end
Youll think the world has changed
But its just you my friend
So, as you go to please your heart
Please take your time
Someones waiting there too
Waiting for you
On the other side of life
Hes waiting for you
On the other side of life, ooh, ooh, ahh, ooh
Hes waiting for you
On the other side of life
Hes waiting for you
On the other side of life

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The Wrong Side Of Memphis

Ive been living on the wrong side of memphis
Im really breaking away this time
Full tank of gas and a 69 tempest
Taking me to that nashville sign
No turnin back
Ive come too far
Im headed down 40 with my old guitar
This aint graceland thats a fact
And I aint driving no pink cadillac
Ive been living on the wrong side of memphis
Gonna bronze these blue suede shoes
These cowboy boots are getting kind of restless
They aint got a single thing to lose
Ive had this dream from a tender age
Calling my name from the opry stage
I can hear it sing loud and clear
Two hundred miles and Ill be there
Ive been living on the wrong side of memphis
Gonna bronze these blue suede shoes
These cowboy boots are getting kind of restless
They aint got a single thing to lose

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Going To The Other Side

Going to the other side of the world
I watch the diverse skies and lands;
On a night the stars are glowing
As they are creation’s lamps, near or far.

It is different on this part of the world,
Feeding is a frenzy, animals lurk somewhere;
I also have to search, since the land is sumptuous,
For the lands are delicious, as they grow fruit.

The world is nearer to the stars than you think,
They disappear when the sun reigns with its glory;
I have seen the world, night and day, by travelling
In the wide-world, the fuel needed is tremendous.

Many citizens and natives I have met,
Filling the streets as time goes by,
Making statements for their daily tasks,
And working to pay their rent.

This side of the world cries for exploration,
If I only do not explore the other side as well
For then time is not enough to satisfy the life
And so bring quality of life - worthwhile!

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Ive Been Working On The Railroad

This song was first released on the all aboard! album. it is the only album it has been released on.
Ive been working on the railroad
All the live long day
Ive been working on the railroad
Just to pass the time away
Cant you hear the whistle blowing
Rise up so early in the morn
Cant you hear the whistle blowing
Dinah, blow your horn
Dinah wont you blow
Dinah wont you blow
Dinah, wont you blow your horn
Dinah, wont you blow,
Dinah, wont you blow,
Dinah, wont you blow your horn
Someones in the kitchen with dinah
Someones in the kitchen I know
Someones in the kitchen with dinah
Strumming on the old banjo
Fee fie fiddle eell o
Fee fie fiddle eell o
Fee fie fiddle eell o
Strumming on the old banjo
Traditional

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Patrick White

Not Interested In The Brand Name Of Your Audience

Not interested in the brand name of your audience.
Poetry makes its own up on the go, resonates
with the stars and the fireflies, mysteriously
marauds its own sacred shrines for the relics
of holy metaphors that can be melted down
into new sensibilities. And you, when you lose
your faith in your herbs ability to heal,
is it you that lets the medicine down,
the exhausted wavelength of an imploding star,
or is your magic just not strong enough anymore
to know when to keep its mouth shut, its grammar
like the secret name of a god, not a public convention.

It's irrelevant to me if you blood your abstractions,
mythic deflation stabbing them through the heart
to keep it from pumping the colour out of the rose
and hanging them upside down over a bathtub.
Or that your insecticidal severances have been
so cleanly disposed of like the wings of butterflies
in the mandibles of seriatim ants. The reek
of formic acid. And it's hard not to notice
that your gypsy nettles don't dance to music.
You've got your head stuck up the eye of the needle again.
Must cost you a fortune in locksmiths.
And why, when you make a confession
of all your sins of omission, does it always sound
like you're ratting someone out? Or you've got
a deathmask on you're always threatening to take off
like a crab carapace in a tidal pool with a detached claw
trying to intimate the great sea of awareness beyond
that's never heard of you, into making waves
even a shore-hugger buried in a puddle could handle?

You can make a cult of your doubt and cynicism,
snakes on the ladders and stairwells of your pretensions,
but I'm not going to be initiated into it. Just because
I was born in a sewer doesn't mean I bathed in it
every time it rained. A metaphor is a metaphor
that's looking for something to compare itself to
and picture-music isn't a drum roll at the unveiling
of a new logo for the hysterically futile fans
of your dysfunctional aspirations to make a big splash.
As if the pond were never big enough for the frog.

Your words don't touch my heart, change my life,
make a serious attempt on my life, derange me,
do anything to me, just lie there
so disconnected from my spinal cord
they're clear cut yarrow sticks that have never heard
of the Book of Changes. Lean-tos and collapsed tents
in the shadows of Stone Henge. No moon. No Taj Mahal.
You're an architect of flowers, but you don't come
with any instructions for assembly. Or even a bag of tools
to flint knap your costume jewellery into arrowheads,
you could always hurl at a turtle on the run, since
it's obvious there's nothing wildly alive in the woods
that has anything to fear from a poet who can't handle a bow
anymore than he can a lyre strung from his own gut.

No urgency in your work. No necessity, risk, danger.
Nothing lethal in the windowsill jungles you explore.
Nothing driving you like the inconsolable dead
into the unmarked grave of a black hole
that never bottoms out like a death in life experience
giving birth to a whole new universe of not two
every morning you wake up in it grateful for the chance
to teach your club-footed absurdity to dance with the bones
of distinguished skeletons who are experts
at knowing how to necro-romanticize the abyss.

When words talk to words about words
it's not because imagination has run out of poets
who aren't unsayable or self-destructive enough
to sacrifice their voices bleeding for the unattainable
so that every poem is history written by the losers,
it's because there's no visionary flash back
when you drown in your own reflection
in a narcissistic labyrinth of mirrors. No crash and burn
in your elegaic encounters with what you're missing.
Your absence doesn't leave a mark on the world
as you seek corporate applause for your trained individualism
tweaking your neuronic synapses with the reflexes
of early amphibians, one foot on shore, one in the boat
just to play it safe, a wishbone bridging both mediums
like a witching wand twitching over a watershed
with a dislocated pelvis that makes you dance with a limp
like Giovanni's frog jumping between electrodes,
or as I remember, growing up, little girls playing hopscotch
on a sidewalk chalked with the outlines of corpses
with photo ops of the brand names on their toe tags.

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I Have Been Friend To The Muse

I have been friend to the Muse
‘But my son you must do that’

I know, I know my father
I have to be a father, father

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Interested in the kith

I was not interested in her
But she was in me so I've to.
I was not interested in the kith
But they are in me so I've to.
03.09.2012

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We are interested in the people

Gossip is not all false.
It contains some truth.
To gossip and to hear gossip,
Each one of us is interested,
A sign that we are interested
In the people around us.
19.06.2008

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Only A Few Know The Timing Of Love

Intimacy of Love,
- Of the young husband and wife -
Desire for union between lovers
is delicate and softer than flowers.

Only a few know the timing of love,
approach and enjoy the charms of love.

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I have been sentenced by the blues

I have been sentenced
by the blues and that music
cuts right through me,
like a chilling electric saw
grinding at the fabric of my soul.

Maybe there’s more to this story
than what these few lines tell
and the blues
have no fascination for me
and just leave memories,
of how sad life can be
and the strings played

by a child hooked on drugs
who would never be free.

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There Are Only Eyes Appearing Above The Surface

There are only eyes appearing above the surface
in the brown water of the river's pool
before they again disappear without a trace.
There are only eyes appearing above the surface
when it notices a prey, are covered by the water-curtain
where the crocodile hides in the depths of the river,
there are only eyes appearing above the surface
in the brown water of the river's pool.

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Emily Dickinson

I had been hungry all the years

I had been hungry all the years-
My noon had come, to dine-
I, trembling, drew the table near
And touched the curious wine.

'T was this on tables I had seen
When turning, hungry, lone,
I looked in windows, for the wealth
I could not hope to own.

I did not know the ample bread,
'T was so unlike the crumb
The birds and I had often shared
In Nature's dining-room.

The plenty hurt me, 't was so new,--
Myself felt ill and odd,
As berry of a mountain bush
Transplanted to the road.

Nor was I hungry; so I found
That hunger was a way
Of persons outside windows,
The entering takes away.

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William Shakespeare

From you have I been absent in the spring... (Sonnet 98)

From you have I been absent in the spring,
When proud-pied April, dressed in all his trim,
Hath put a spirit of youth in everything,
That heavy Saturn laughed and leaped with him,
Yet nor the lays of birds, nor the sweet smell
Of different flowers in odor and in hue,
Could make me any summer's story tell,
Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew.
Nor did I wonder at the lily's white,
Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose;
They were but sweet, but figures of delight,
Drawn after you, you pattern of all those.
Yet seemed it winter still, and, you away,
As with your shadow I with these did play.

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The Story Of My Life

I was only joking
When i said i didn't love you
Of course i still love you
I always have! !

In fact it kills me to think
You might've ever thought that
I wasn't telling the truth....
It's never been that bad

Please don't ever believe
That i couldn't love you
I couldn't ever not love you
Even if i tried

It was a cruel jibe
I did'nt think you'd care
I didn't think that you'd react like you did
I already explained i need you more then air? ?

I don't regret meeting you
It was the best day of my life
I tell all my friends about it
Day after day

I'm sure they get sick of it
But i could not give a shit
It's the story of my life
The story of my life

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