Tuesday, August 12, 2008

At The Old Salvation

It's amateur hour at the Old Salvation
We're upchucking our distillations
There's a lady crying in consternation
We're all dying of anticipation
waiting on a better day

We're all agreed on this world of bleeders
it's not what we wanted and we feel cheated
but we're over-run by false-hearted leaders
control-freaks and bottom-feeders
while we search for better ways

Dancing is our only relief from living
We soothe our guilt with token-giving
drown our tears with libation tipping
shred our souls with fake-sex stripping
waiting for the final play

Happy hour comes at half past middle
Good and evil duel it out on the fiddle
Jello shooters kill us a little
As we wipe away each other's spittle
we drink to the loss of pain

When morning arrives 48 hours later
we're devoid of love and lost our haters
Some surrender to instinct and be-come maters
a new generation emerges much later
and soon it too will pray

Pray for the loss of pain
Pray for the final play
Pray for better ways
Pray for a better day

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Well, like they used to say at the Good Shepherd when I was there, "F*cking 'A'"

Good poem!
Without pain, there really isn't joy. Sad how that works out, really.
First to the mechanics which are quite more complex than they seem. Really well constructed for the most part even if it is done "on the fly."

The first four AAAAb really come out strong and fighting...

Next to the context...yes I've been there on both sides of the cage wiring.

When morning arrives 48 hours later
we're devoid of love and lost 't our haters
Some surrender to instinct and be-come maters
a new generation emerges much later
and soon it too will pray

I emboldened one thing I thought was missing...

One would be hard pressed to not get caught up in this Benji.
Very nice and pretty strong. I've got a script of about 40 minutes long, covering several years, in rhyme. I might post it at one time.

I enjoyed the read very much.
It is not possible to read this without a cetain rhythm taking over. This happened the first time so I read it again and the rhythm intruded but I liked it this way so accept tha these words are married to the beat. Devoid of love is a strong thought along with others. Captivating words. Like it lots.
I like this a lot!
Thanks Ivan! Good Shepard sounds more fun than I would have guessed.

XD: indeed, pain is part of life. that's ok. but sometimes it's much worse than that.

TWM: Thanks as always for your detailed reactions. Very cool. I'm not totally clear though on your suggested edit. Why the 't?
Monique: you should definitely post that. monique shakespeare? the most epic poem i ever wrote was a 20-page ode to my wife, recounting key events of our first couple years together. i should keep that one going and cover the last few years too.

Thanks Kissa. Most of my poems hit me when I'm singing in the shower. Off key. But there's always a rhythm. And the rhythm is good.

Thanks Sydney!

"we're devoid of love and lost 't our haters"

Lost to our haters...I personally liked the sound of the single letter more so than the two letter sound of to.

I think the hard T emphasizes the line more. Being lost to them who hate you is a very good thing.
sometines all that is left is your faith - ´pray to save whatever is left of your soul.
Oh and there is a better day coming,,,although I doubt that it's in this life.
So while we are here, we can choose to find our own peace, keeping our own reality check from bouncing,,,,and hang in for the better ride.

I really enjoy your creativity!
this is quite powerful benji..
i've read it several times.
i like this line ..
When morning arrives 48 hours later
we're devoid of love and lost our haters..
it's like living the motion of living without feeling ..

it's hard out there at times, ain't it .. :)
In many ways, this could be about the danceclub scene, which dominated my twenties.

Yes, I remember the cold light of the morn after ours of senseless swensuality, where you start to face the prospect of clambering back on the treadmill...
But the fun was in the quest, rarely ever in the goal--if there ever was a goal.

But sometimes, it's good to just shut up and dance. Entoptic phenomena was the first magic--people would fast for days, then dance around the fire at night until the gods spoke to them and gave them visions.

Not too different today, huh?
TWM: aha, I see what you mean. It works too. But I think my original intention was that void between love and hate, passion and compassion, where we tend to drift in ambiguity. Devoid of love and hate.

CD: the sad question we're sometimes left with is faith in what? As Bono put it, I'd join the movement if there was one I could believe in.

WA: you might not know it from this poem but I'm somewhat of an optimist. As Sam Cooke said, a change is gonna come. My question is always how. The smart way or the hard way? Regardless, in this slice of time I think too many of us are stuck at the Old Salvation, waiting...

Foam: damn straight.

Crushed: been there too. And it's such a metaphor for our whole culture and time. The Be Good Tanyas had a great line about dance clubs: 'Please don't take me to the dance club, I feel so fucked up when I'm in there, what kind of people would go to meet people where you can't even hear?'

Eric: frankly, that sounds very different from today. but if you know a dance club like that, please tell me where to find it. I could use some god-visions right now. who couldn't?
ps to Eric: great to have you back!
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