Whatever creativity is, it is in part a solution to a problem.
quote by Brian Aldiss
Added by Lucian Velea
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Problems
Too many problems, oh why am I here?
I need to be me, cause youre all to clear
And I can see theres something wrong with you
Oh, what do you expect me to do?
At least I gotta know what I wanna be
Dont come to me if you need pity
Are you lonely, you got no-one
You got your body in suspension
Thats a problem, problem, problem
The problem is you
Eat your heart out on a plastic tray
You dont do what you want and you fade away
You work for me, youre working nine-to-five
Its too much fun of being alive
Im using my feet for my human machine
You work for me, living for the screen
Are you lonely, all needs catered
You got your brains dehydrated
Problem, problem, problem, the problem is you
Oh what what you gonna do, problem, problem
Problem, problem, problem, the problem is you
Well, what you gonna do with your problem
The problem is you, problem
I aint death trip, but I aint automatic
You work for me, just stay ecstatic
Dont you give me any orders
To people like me, there is no order
Bet you thought you had it all worked out
Bet you thought you knew what I was about
Bet you thought youd solved all your problems
But you are the problem
Problem, problem, problem, the problem is you
Oh, what you gonna do with your problem?
Ill leave it up to you, oh problem
The problem is you, you got a problem
Oh what you gonna do?
They know a doctor, gonna take you away
Thay take you away and they throw away the key
They dont want you and they dont want me
You got a problem the problem is you
Problem, well, what you gonna do?
Problem, have you got a problem?
Problem, well you got a problem
Problem (x17)
song performed by Megadeth
Added by Lucian Velea
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What Part Of Life Are You Living
What part of life are you living.
What part of life are you living to give?
What part of life are you giving to live.
What part of life are you giving.
What part of life are you living.
And what part of life are you living.
What part of life are you living to give?
What part of life are you giving to live.
What part of life are you giving.
What part of life are you living.
What part of life is a drive by.
What part of life is a downslide.
What part of life are you living.
What part of life are you living to give?
What part of life is a drive by.
What part of life is a downslide.
And what part of life are you living.
What part of life are you living to give?
What part of life are you giving to live.
What part of life are you giving.
What part of life are you living.
What part of life is a drive by.
What part of life is a downslide.
What part of life are you living to give?
What part of life are you willing to live.
What part of life is a drive by.
What part of life is a downslide.
What part of life are you living to give?
What part of life are you willing to live.
What part of life are you living.
What part of life are you living to give?
What part of life are you giving to live.
What part of life are you giving.
What part of life are you living.
What part of life is a drive by.
What part of life is a downslide.
What part of life are you living to give?
What part of life are you willing to live.
What part of life is a downslide.
What part of life is a drive by.
And...
What part of life are you living.
What part of life are you living to give?
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Magpie, My Keeper, Is Flying - Upon Freeing the Gift of Creativity Turned Inward
.
for Elaine Bellezza, Beloved Anima-as-Fate
'There is only one real deprivation, I decided this morning, and that is not to be able to give one's gift to those one loves most...The gift turned inward, unable to be given, becomes a heavy burden, even sometimes a kind of poison. It is as though the flow of life were backed up.' - May Sarton, Journal of a Solitude
This afternoon while still somewhat hungover from last night's rich meal and several glasses of strong red wine, I stumbled as one does when hungover, only today without feet but with eyes, upon the above quote by May Sarton. I had awakened this morning with fragments of a dream, repetitive of other dreams the past few months, where I am carrying something precious and just cannot put it down in any old place or upon just any available surface. I cannot put it down until I find the right surface and location.
These dreams are full of torrential flood waters, or backed up, stagnant water, toilets full of filth and pungent bright orange dark urine days old and fermenting. I cannot unhand the burden even though the urge to pee or flee or drive a car away or into flood waters is strong. I must not put down the burden odd as it is; it is my laptop carrying case made of canvas. It is large enough to carry not only my laptop but also many books with which I cannot, will not be parted from as they are the must-have-with-me-always 'bread', my staple and stability in a given to me world out of balance.
I have understood the dreams only a little - something within the psyche is flooding up, over-spilling or has already, has not been adequately canalized, channeled, streamed and guided, shaped and formed. Or flushed. I knew that eventually, as dreams do when one sits consciously, patiently, persistently with them, they would yield their messages to me, and upon revelation these must be obeyed, brought out into the world, Carl Jung having said that one has a moral responsibility to dreams once they are kenned and must be conscientiously acted upon in the outer world. Just dreaming is not enough. Everyone dreams but not very many know to dream them out into the world, to let their messages unfurl, flood and flow to bring forth new consciousness, to reshape old forms no longer adequate to self, place and time into symbol and their sense, usually not literal.
And thus, only just now, upon opening up haphazardly in a book about Dostoevsky and his struggle with addictions which mirror the profound compulsion to create at any cost perhaps beyond one's capacities to renew oneself, I find May Sarton's quote and suddenly the dreams clarify and sharpen into focus; I understand them as the burden of creativity too long turned inward, the burden of writing, the burden of poetry which I have carried heavily for most of my life since middle school when I was 11 or 12 years old when books became my lifeline, my link to existence that I could live on in spite of not wanting to do so. Written words, books, kept me from disappearing though I was and remain a mostly invisible word.
And thus the floods. One cannot ignore them. Alphabets tumble and roil. One dare not ignore them. One must see them without a choice to not see them. In them I am suddenly made visible, bright orange p*ss pots and all. I am both appalled and pleased. My burden is upon my knees.
The backed up water, the urine, is creativity. A somewhat odd symbol of creativity, there is more than enough evidence that urination is symbolic of self expression which is creativity. In ancient Rome the highly valued dirt from the urinals of boys' schools was collected to be used as a cosmetic in order to restore youthful energy and looks. A young boy, or puer in Latin, is an archetypal symbol of ongoing creativity and inspiration, the puer aeternas, the eternal youth, well springs of ongoing creativity still imaged in solid fountains of the world where eternal waters flow from the peni of cherubic youth.
I have struggled my entire life with a strong urge to create, to write, to express in words that creative daemon within which torments no matter the completion of a poem or essay, a lecture, a psalm. And now my dreams have had me consciously, urgently seeking a place to put the burden down, to perhaps come to it anew. I imagine that landing the burden means bringing it down to earth, manifesting creativity all the more by bringing my efforts to others for the strongest part of the compulsive urge in my creativity has been to contribute one good thing, one good poem or piece of writing which in some way might further the culture even if only by a flea's leg length.
The dreams urge me to let the urine flow, to let the flood waters indeed flood over, to be less self conscious of what I write and say but to have at it all and to say my say. And to let whatever waves there are crest and break upon ever receptive banks and shores whose duty it is to allow what may come from motion without complaint, the more compliant toward as yet to be fully formed purposes as yet to be scored.
Synchronistically, a few days ago I listened to a lecture by poet Allen Ginsberg about Walt Whitman and his imitators, those who were goodly influenced by his effulgent, self indulgent style, his garrulous poems which presumed to express the very expansiveness of the North American continent over-flooded by a plague of itinerant, persistent poachers and prophets from Europe to Eastern disembarkation and then inland and Westward, compelled to overtake land and native peoples in their possessed, pushed wake. Ginsberg imagined himself to be a timely extension of this unruly school, as savage as the projected upon land and justly-resistant, resident humanity stretched beyond known bounds and sounds. Blood drowned and pounded the god-hounded land even now is flooded by unleashed mighty rivers seeking, if rivers seek at all, to undo and renew in horse shoe and other shapes the crimes of consciousness compelled to overtake while leaving it up to human souls to repent and repair, to prepare for more powerful insurgencies of land and Self ever seeking new and nower expressions of dirt and deity. There's enough history beneath layers to support the scarp and scrape of momentary yet monumental motions finally given mouths to utter what lies both beneath and within the heaping huzzahs of here here here full and deep. As in my dream, it is hard to steer in such surpassing tides and currents. Still, I am searching for holy campground that I may lay my burden down.
I have no wish to imitate Whitman nor Ginsberg - though both are easily imitated since they did so themselves, an occupational hazard for writers - but only to be obedient to the daemon, that urgent, emergent, creative force within. It rushes within and against me. No matter whether derived of the grandiose American continent and the even more grandiose sky or not, I have all too successfully braced against it in fear of failure, reprisal or, worse, complete indifference from others. My dreams now urge floods and resultant coagulations, they bring creative splurges to ground from hand to the hard world. And Nature, too, is indifferent but begs none the less and all the more to be given utterance and response.
Respondeo ergo sum. I respond, therefore I am. I respond, therefore the other, earth, all her ants, is as long as there are eyes, ears, and scanning minds to acknowledge and touch, wrestle, caress, shape - some in scansions - outer from inner, inner from outer, landscapes to be all too quickly discarded in time for what is sung just ahead. And seen. Or hoped, all praise to telescopes. We would be they, so addicted to horizons, to bring them close.
Something there is needs completion via coagulation, forming, shaping, and sharing with whomever may be open to clods delivered. If not, rivers will, as they will without reason, continue to overrun their banks and insist upon covering designated previous cultivations. Let then excess of creativity have its say, play out, and leave the critical post-considerations to others. I will surely sit and ponder spent what spills forth, to shape, to edit, to discard. And watch my little yard sink beneath needed and needy floods.
I will have done with deprivation and bring myself, what I have shaped and misshapen, to the world. These things, this burden, have I most loved and felt responsible for, have born the shame of. I have fought and have failed utterly again and again though my attempts have been, and still are, sincere though not blameless. Fear has been my encampment, a longing beneath knowing feet in secret cellars just beyond reach of contracted hands forever spelling hunger. I know open bastion doors and windows to now fling beyond embankments what has been wrung out of my floes and woes though hands wither from too much turning against and inward. What a relief to burst beyond boundaries too long successfully restraining.
I recently wrote a poem about much too too solid bastions of self, of forceful puer energy ramming through and over and into long buried storms and petrified forms, of passion mangling the delusion of 'norms' ignoring too sensitive alarms. Given May Sarton's May revelation this morning I now understand that the poem is about more than eros, it is about that powerful creative/destructive force, the daemon/tyro that ever urges outward intent on making and staking Self in new land and at least one aging man wrenched and rendered from dried and calcified encrustations. I am, to borrow from the insistent dream image, beginning to leak. And to break open.
Archeology - What The Stele Says 'Upon Taking A Much Younger Lover'
That this old ground yields to plow stuns.
What begins to be, earth swell, breaks
root-room open to blood means.
Old skeins tear upon what is new terrain,
hunger worn, long appended. There is
no blame for pain is the blessing.
All hurt now stings twilight quaked into being.
Your breath falls upon me now, taut, sinew,
bruising hand, purple inside flares warrior nerves
[...] Read more
poem by Warren Falcon
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Revolution
More calm than a heartbeat that flat lines
Quiet like a dark street under the moonlight
A phrase of action that's been screamed from the guts of men
Ever since they're first experienced
Injustice, prejudice, discrimination
A word louder than a gunshot
And softer than a baby's laugh, it will pass
Just like it always has. Until it spits off the lips of
The next man who's had it up to here.
Did somebody say a Revolution?
Or is it all in my head?
Is that what it takes to make a solution
solution
not the first or the last to imagine it
Acknowledge the concepts, question and grasp it
Rebel against the I, and bring down the self.
Mutiny me! overthrow you
Rebellion starts within, the time is now
Did somebody say a Revolution?
Or is it all in my head?
Is that what it takes to make a solution, solution
Did somebody say a Revolution?
Or is it all in my head?
Is that what it takes to make a solution
Your Revolution
Purple skies, Devil eyes, Hypnotize
Little lies, Compromise, Fireflies
Samurias, Parasite, Fly by night, After light, Materialize,
Look alive, Stereotype, Do with die, lullaby, black and white
Did somebody say a Revolution?
Or is it all in my head? your revolution
Is that what it takes to make a solution, solution, your revolution
Did somebody say a Revolution?
Or at least it's been said, your revolution
Is that what it takes to make a solution?
Your Revolution
No resolution -Your Revolution
what's your solution? -Your Revolution
And no substitution -Your Revolution
And no resolution -Your Revolution
not your solution
song performed by P.O.D.
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Big Problem....
There is this BIG PROBLEM
WE decided not to talk about it
We think that that problem must solve itself
Auto-resolution
So day and night the problem stays there
Like a drunkard in the room
Vomiting
To every nook of the house
The house
That smells like fucking
Shit
But that problem is never considered a problem
There is a room for it to stay
And it can stay
It cannot consume us
It has no mouth and so it has no teeth
It has no tongue it cannot say a word
It stays there like a piece of art
And we begin to appreciate it
Like a piece of rock
Unchanged in the middle of the living room
We eat lunch there
They prepare nice dinners
We drink red wine
We munch chocolates
And sweet berries
The problem stays but it cannot nag us
Because we can pretend
That it is a brother
That we cannot junk but only love
And keep as part of the
Company
There is still this problem
And it did not solve itself
We live by this problem and this problem lives with us
Symbiosis
And so now
What is the problem? Is this a problem after all these years?
It is not anymore
We have learned that it is not a problem anymore
We die soon
And it shall perhaps disappear
Shall it weep over our departure?
That is its problem.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Problem Child
(roy orbison)
Roy orbison (sun, 1957)
Well my heartbeat is running wild
Because of you my problem child
Oh-oh baby, don't be running wild
Well cool off baby, don't be a problem child
Well don't you see this shakin' spree
Is bound to be the death of me
Oh baby, don't be running wild
Well cool off baby, don't be a problem child
Well my heartbeat is runnin' wild
Because of you my problem child
Oh baby, don't be running wild
Control yourself, don't be a problem child
Well don't you see this shakin' spree
Is bound to be the death of me
Oh baby, don't be running wild
Well cool off baby, don't be a problem child
Well then i'm gone, that's all she wrote
You'll sing this same song note for note
Oh baby, don't be running wild
Control yourself, you're a problem child
Ooh, problem child
Yeah, problem child
Well, problem child
Yeah, problem child
Oh baby,you're a problem child
Slow down girl, down
Slow down girl, down
Down girl, down
Slow down girl, down......
song performed by Roy Orbison
Added by Lucian Velea
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When I Meet God
And if the bottles no solution
Why does it feel so warm
And if that girl is no solution
Why did she feel so warm
And if to feel is no solution
Why do I feel
Why do I feel so tired
Why do I feel so broken
Why do I feel so outside
Why do I seem so blind
Im so sick of feeling
Its ruined my life
If living rough is no solution
Why does it ease my mind
If looking back is no solution
Why are we all
Nothing but children
Children inside
Why do the gods
Sit back and watch
So many lost
What kind of mother
Leaves a child in the traffic
Turning tricks in the dark
What kind of god?
I crawled around inside myself
It was a long way down
It was a mine and it was mine
And in the darkness
I saw a perfect mirror
Floating in space
When I meet god
Im going to ask her
What makes her cry
What makes her laugh
Is she just stars and indigo gas
Does she know why
Love has no end
But its dark-angel friend
Tearing women and men
Slowly apart
Stain
Dont do that
Scream
Dont do that
Fail
Never do that
Never do that
I want to go out
Dont do that
[...] Read more
song performed by Marillion
Added by Lucian Velea
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No Problem
(r. palmer)
I think the two of us
Should visit paradise
Wed be so calm inside
Id be your alibi
I want to be the one
That shares in all your dreams
Always be there for you
To staisfy your needs
Thered be no problem - even if you just need someone to talk to
Ill be there to listen any time of day
Theres no problem you cant tell me about it
Oh baby I could make you happy more than any other man
Someone to rely on and
Care for you
I could keep you warm
Protect you from all harm
Id be right by your side
To keep you satisfied
No problem - even if you just need someone to talk to
Ill be there to listen any time of day
Thered be no problem if you tell me about it
Oh baby I could make you happy more than any other man
Someone to rely on and
Care for you girl
No problem
No problem
I think the two of us
Should visit paradise
Youd be so calm inside
Id be your alibi
You could get in my heart
And we could take a ride
We could go all the way
Or just to paradise
No problem
No problem
No problem
No problem
song performed by Robert Palmer
Added by Lucian Velea
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Problem Solver
If we stuck by the rules,
To ensure they're obeyed...
I can be,
A problem solver.
You can be,
A problem solver.
We could all be problem solvers,
If we got to be involved.
I can be,
A problem solver.
You can be,
A problem solver.
We could all be problem solvers,
If we got to be involved.
Troubles would diminish...
If we all got now involved.
Anguishing would disappear...
If it was not thought a job,
To be labored then be robbed!
Troubles would diminish...
If we all got now involved.
Anguishing would disappear...
If it was not thought a job,
To be labored then be robbed!
If we stuck by the rules,
To ensure they're obeyed...
Oh I can be,
A problem solver.
You can be,
A problem solver.
We could all be problem solvers,
If we got to be involved.
Troubles would diminish...
If we all got now involved.
Anguishing would disappear...
If it was not thought a job!
We could all be problem solvers,
If we got to be involved.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Crazy Love, Vol. Ii
Fat charlie the archangel
Slped into the room
He said i have no opinion about this
And i have no opinion about that
Sad as a lonely little wrinkled balloon
He said well i don't claim to be happy about this, boys
And i don't seem to be happy about that
I don't want no part of this crazy love
I don't want no part of your love
I don't want no part of this crazy love
I don't want no part of your love
I don't want no part of this crazy love
I don't want no part of your love
I don't want no part of this crazy love
I don't want no part of this crazy love
She says she knows about jokes
This time the joke is on me
Well, i have no opinion about that
And i have no opinion about me
Somebody could walk into this room
And say your life is on fire
It's all over the evening news
All about the fire in your life
On the evening news
I don't want no part of this crazy love
I don't want no part of your love
I don't want no part of this crazy love
I don't want no part of your love
Fat charlie the archangel
Files for divorce
He says well this will eat up a year of my life
And then there's all that weight to be lost
She says the joke is on me
I say the joke is on her
I said i have no opinion about that
Well, we'll just have to wait and confer
I don't want no part of this crazy love
I don't want no part of your love
I don't want no part of this crazy love
I don't want no part of your love
I don't want no part of this crazy love
I don't want no part of your love
I don't want no part of this crazy love
I don't want no part of this crazy love
song performed by Paul Simon
Added by Lucian Velea
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Who Is The Real Problem?
i am the real problem
i Do not have anything to do with my Life, it has only lonelines as the real cause of its misery.
i am the real problem
i Have figured out the real issue
Of the problem and
it is not capable of exact
Definition,
That seemingly is a problem apparently
Appearing to me as life but there is
No life in it
The right to call it life
Cannot be true, this is just to be frank about it.
I refer to the expertise of sorceress
She put some aluminates in cinders
And she figures out the illuminated forms of my
Problem,
a snake is the illuminated form of my misery
There is a snake in my house
Or
could be in my office or could be in my world.
The real problem is i
Do not believe the sorceress
And I am left with nothing to do but figure out the real
Problem in my dreams
Planes taking off and exploding in mid air
Rivers rising flooding and making a town disappear
Bamboo poles with lots of coconut oil rubbed on its sides and I cannot climb
My way of jumping into murky rivers filled with goldfishes floating dead
A brook filled with feces and I am there swimming
A snake chasing me and I cannot run as fast as I can
and it bites me
And I
Wake up
profusely sweating and trembling
i get a glass of water and
ThankGod that everything is simply
a bad dream
The real problem really is,
On the other hand,
I waking up
[...] Read more
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sex Is Not The Enemy
No evolution
Sometimes it depresses me
The same old same
We keep repeating history
The institution curses curiosity
It's our conviction
Sex is not the enemy
A revolution
Is the solution
A revolution
Is the solution
I won't feel guilty
No matter what they're telling me
I won't feel dirty and buy into their misery
I won't be shamed cause I believe that love is free
It fuels the heart and sex is not the enemy
A revolution
Is the solution
A revolution
Is the solution
True love is like gold
There's not enough to go around
But then there's god and doesn't god love everyone?
Give me a choice
Give me a chance to turn the key and find my voice
Sex is not the enemy
A revolution
Is the solution
A revolution
Is the solution
Sex is not the enemy
A revolution
song performed by Garbage
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Solution
No need to wonder - do you belong?
No need to worry
You can be strong
Dont disbelieve it
Let your fears go
There must be more to this life
And we all know
Deep inside
The solution
Staring you down
Looking for
The solution
Bringing you round
Round and round we go
Round and round we go
The past can haunt your future so
Shadows are falling look out below
Voices are calling echoes unknown
There must be more to this life than we all know
Looking for
The solution
Staring you down
Deep inside
The solution
Bringing you round
Giving it out
Giving it out
Do the best that you can do
Giving it out
Giving it out
Its all up to you
Giving it out
Giving it out
Do the best that you can do
Giving it out
Giving it out
Its all up to you
Its all up to you
Over and under and down we go
(down we go)
Caught at the crossroads - which way to go?
(path unknown)
Choosing the right path?
Only you know
Looking for
The solution
You hold the key
Deep inside
The solution
Set yourself free
[...] Read more
song performed by Yes
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Solution
No need to wonder - do you belong?
No need to worry
You can be strong
Dont disbelieve it
Let your fears go
There must be more to this life
And we all know
Deep inside
The solution
Staring you down
Looking for
The solution
Bringing you round
Round and round we go
Round and round we go
The past can haunt your future so
Shadows are falling look out below
Voices are calling echoes unknown
There must be more to this life than we all know
Looking for
The solution
Staring you down
Deep inside
The solution
Bringing you round
Giving it out
Giving it out
Do the best that you can do
Giving it out
Giving it out
Its all up to you
Giving it out
Giving it out
Do the best that you can do
Giving it out
Giving it out
Its all up to you
Its all up to you
Over and under and down we go
(down we go)
Caught at the crossroads - which way to go?
(path unknown)
Choosing the right path?
Only you know
Looking for
The solution
You hold the key
Deep inside
The solution
Set yourself free
[...] Read more
song performed by Yes
Added by Lucian Velea
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Part Of My Life
Can you be a part of my life?
Can you be a part of my life?
Oh its easy to find some one to play with
And almost anyone will do to fill your idle time
But that very special someone,
You can share all your dreams with is so hard to find
And it use to be like me to settle for the physical
But these days it aint too easy to make up my mind
Cause apparently you body just to temporally to take up my precious time
See Ive got to know that
That I can be free with you and
Youve got to show that
That youre worthy of my time
Can you stimulate my mind?
And I know that it looks good,
But can you be a part of my life
And Im sure that it feels good
But can you be a part of my life
And it probably even taste good
But can you be a part of my life
Ive got to know
I still appreciate the beauty of a man
But theres more to what I need now than what meets the eye
And if beautys only skin deep,
Then your pretty skin wont send me to my highest high
Oh its been along time come for maturity
And I believe that its truly what it has to be
Cause as much as I admire you
My sexual desire, aint controlling me
See Ive got to know that
That I can be free with you and
Youve got to show that
That youre worthy of my time
Can you stimulate my mind?
And I know that it looks good,
But can you be a part of my life
And Im sure that it feels good
But can you be a part of my life
And it probably even taste good
But can you be a part of my life
Ive got to know
And I know that it looks good,
But can you be a part of my life
And Im sure that it feels good
But can you be a part of my life
And it probably even taste good
But can you be a part of my life
Ive got to know
Can you be a part of my life?
I got to know that
[...] Read more
song performed by India Arie
Added by Lucian Velea
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My Problem Is You
To love and get away before the walls have arisen
Youve got to be free
But to go on attempting to break into the prison
Youd have to be me
I wait for the sun to rise over the mountain
I wait for your touch
I wait for your angels to carry me home
But I wait too much
Waiting for you
I have no problem telling right from wrong
Fiction from whats true
No problem telling the dream from the dawn
My problem is you
Waiting here for you
I wanted to live in the realm of the senses
Youve got to know how
And for some kinds of pleasure there are no defenses
I know that now
Our love is a crackling ladder of lightning
Our love is a fire
Our love is a wave moving deep in an ocean
Of need and desire
Waiting for you
I have no problem with this crooked world
I play the cards I drew
No problem with the changes life has hurled
My problem is you
Waiting here for you
I need your wonder and I need your light
I need your tender touch to heal the night
I need you laughing and I need you free
And I need to lock you away deep inside of me
Waiting for you
I have no problem telling right from wrong
The way some people do
I know exactly where these arms belong
My problem is you
Waiting here for you
song performed by Jackson Browne
Added by Lucian Velea
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Melanie
Me-he-he-helanie
What can the problem be
Sweet me-he-he-he-helanie
Why wont you go out with me
She lived across the street on the fifteenth floor of the gilmore building
I saw her in the shower reaching for some soap
I knew she had to be the girl for me
And to think I probably never would have found her
If I hadnt bought that telescope
Oh, me-he-he-helanie
What can the problem be
Sweet me-he-he-he-helanie
Why wont you go out with me
I just cant understand it
Why wont you return my phone calls
Are you still mad I gave a mohawk to your cat
If youd just say the word
Im certain that our love would last forever and ever
Or are you too dumb to realize that
Me-he-he-helanie
What can the problem be
Sweet me-he-he-he-helanie
Why wont you go out with me
How can you ignore me when you know that I cant live without you
I have to go through your garbage just to learn more about you
Melanie, ooh
Oh sweet me-he-he-helanie
Why wont you go out with me
You werent impressed when I tattooed your name across my forehead
You wouldnt listen when I promised to be true
I couldnt stand it so I jumped out from the sixteenth story window
Right above you
Now I may be dead but I still love you
Me-he-he-helanie
What can the problem be
Sweet me-he-he-he-helanie
Why wont you go out with me
Me-he-he-helanie
What can the problem be
Sweet me-he-he-he-helanie
Why wont you go out with me
Im singin me-he-he-helanie
What can the problem be
Sweet, sweet me-he-he-he-helanie
Why wont you go out with me
Im singin me-he-he-helanie
What can the problem be
Sweet me-he-he-he-helanie
Why wont you go out with me
Im singin me-he-he-helanie
[...] Read more
song performed by Weird Al Yankovic
Added by Lucian Velea
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Loose and Untied
Said I woke up,
This mawnin'
With not a problem on my mind.
Said I woke up
And got early out of bed.
With not a problem I could find.
Didn't want to have a rollin' eye to see.
So I crept across the floor...
Until I made it to the back door,
And eased out freely.
And I got up
Early
To rub that trouble out...
Right on time.
Said I...
Awakened up this 'meerrrnin'
With no problems on my mind.
Said I...
Opened up my eyes,
And slid so gently from her side.
'Cause an argument always meets,
My good mawnin' greetin'.
And a headache wasn't comin'
'Cause that headache...
Wasn't gon' be mine!
Said I...
Woke up,
This mawnin'
With not a problem
On my mind.
Said...
I woke up,
And got my mind out of bed.
With not a problem,
I could find.
Didn't want to have a rollin' eye to see.
So I crept across the floor...
Until I made it to the back door easy!
And I eased into the breeze to feel a freedom,
Loose and untied!
And I got up early,
To rub trouble
Out of my mind!
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Creativity Can't Make Up For Depression
Creativity cannot make up for depression
which it attempts to cure,
it can’t replace it with the kind of supersession
that made spurious lure
of Christianity when it induced some Jews
to make up for their loss
of their identity, condemned, they thought, to lose
unless they chose the cross.
No, creativity provides a transient high,
and then becomes a wraith,
for those who’re so depressed they find they cannot fly,
because they’ve lost their faith
in their ability to reproduce success,
which if it is not con-
stantly repeated is a letter whose address
appears to be, “Dear John.”
Inspired by an article (“In Praise of the Crack-U: A novelist peers through darkness to find glittering gems in writing and art”) , by the South African-born novelist Jeanette Winterson, lesbian lover of Julian Barnes’s widow, Pat Kavanagh, in the October 17,2009 WSJ (A report about her lesbian relations includes the information: Blessed with good looks that led many to compare her to Katharine Hepburn, she secured a nonspeaking part in Under Milk Wood. “I never got paid, but I did get to snog Richard Burton, ” she said) . Winterson writes:
The stories are well known; Vincent Van Gogh cut off his ear and went mad. Sylvia Plath gassed herself. Anne Sexton committed suicide. Emily Dickinson was manic-depressive. Virginia Woolf worked through alternating bouts of madness and depression for most of her life. The mad, bad and dangerous wild boys of high art and popular culture make great copy—whether it's Caravaggio on the run for murder after one of his rages, or Allen Ginsberg, naked and drunk, howling through Manhattan. The women—Plath, Frida Kahlo, Maria Callas, Janis Joplin—imploding like dark stars, are the stuff of obsession…. Longing is painful. Every work of art is an attempt to bring into being the object of loss. The pictures, the music, the poems and the performances are an intense engagement with loss. While one is in the act of making, one is not in loss, and one has meaning. The fierce crashes that happen to many creative people when a piece of work is done (read Hemingway on this) come out of the sense that however good the work, it has not answered the loss. The strange thing about creative work is that it can have enormous value for others while its maker is left ravaged. The ancient Greeks understood this as the price of an encounter with a god—the divine forces enter the human and use him or her as an instrument, only to be ultimately destroyed. But I do not believe that creativity is destructive or divine. I believe it is the part of us that gives shape and voice to our innermost reality. This is frightening. Encounters with the real, in particular what we really feel, are something we generally try to avoid. Art mediates the encounter, allowing us to get nearer to our longing and our loss, to risk more, to dare more. Yet for the maker, the exposure is not mediated; it is total and terrifying. That is why so many creative people cut themselves off from their own experience, using drugs or drink or sex or shipwreck to avoid absolute exposure to the pain of creativity. When Whitman turned to face his dark angel, to wrestle with himself, he was acknowledging his own loss, his own longing, his own unstaunched wound.
10/18/09
poem by Gershon Hepner
Added by Poetry Lover
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Remember Me
I stand here face to face
With someone that I used to know
He used to look at me and laugh
But now he claims
That hes known me for so very long
But I remember being no one
I wanted to be just like you
So perfect, so untouchable
Now you want me to be with you
Someone who used to have it all
Do you remember now
You acted like you never noticed me
Forget it
Cause the gone has come around
And youre not allowed to be a part of me
Did you know me?
Or were you too preoccupied
With playing king in your small kingdom
And now the real world
Has stripped you of your royalty
And from your kingdom youre evicted
I wanted to be just like you
So perfect, so untouchable
Now you want me to be with you
Someone who used to have it all
Do you remember now
You acted like you never noticed me
Forget it
Cause the gone has come around
Youre not allowed to be a part of me
Part of me
Part of me
Part of me
Youre never going to be a part of me
Youre never going to be a part of me
Youre never going to be a part of me
Youre never going to be a part of me
Youre never going to be a part of me
Youre never going to be a part of me
Do you remember now
You acted like you never noticed me
Forget it
Cause the gone has come around
Youre not allowed to be a part of me
Part of me
Part of me
Part of me
song performed by Hoobastank
Added by Lucian Velea
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