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Pastimes : The Sauna -- Ignore unavailable to you. Want to Upgrade?

To: Poet who wrote (1347)	7/25/2001 10:23:35 AM
From: Neocon	Respond to of 1857

Ah, Van Morrison. Yes, there is a sense of having lived, if one gets the blues. I am right now listening to Billy Holiday ("God Bless the Child"), and her weary voice sounds almost like wisdom......

To: Poet who wrote (1347)	7/25/2001 11:07:45 AM
From: Neocon	Read Replies (1) \| Respond to of 1857

Here is a song that has poetic structure, standing alone: BORN TO RUN Bruce Springsteen In the day we sweat it out in the streets of a runaway American dream At night we ride through mansions of glory in suicide machines Sprung from cages out on highway 9, Chrome wheeled, fuel injected and steppin' out over the line Baby this town rips the bones from your back It's a death trap, it's a suicide rap We gotta get out while we're young `Cause tramps like us, baby we were born to run Wendy let me in I wanna be your friend I want to guard your dreams and visions Just wrap your legs 'round these velvet rims and strap your hands across my engines Together we could break this trap We'll run till we drop, baby we'll never go back Will you walk with me out on the wire `Cause baby I'm just a scared and lonely rider But I gotta find out how it feels I want to know if love is wild girl I want to know if love is real Beyond the Palace hemi-powered drones scream down the boulevard The girls comb their hair in rearview mirrors And the boys try to look so hard The amusement park rises bold and stark Kids are huddled on the beach in a mist I wanna die with you Wendy on the streets tonight In an everlasting kiss The highway's jammed with broken heroes on a last chance power drive Everybody's out on the run tonight but there's no place left to hide Together Wendy we'll live with the sadness I'll love you with all the madness in my soul Someday girl I don't know when we're gonna get to that place Where we really want to go and we'll walk in the sun But till then tramps like us baby we were born to run

To: Poet who wrote (1347)	7/25/2001 1:03:00 PM
From: Neocon	Respond to of 1857

Here is someone who wallowed in his misery and sense of alienation: "ONCE, IF MY MEMORY SERVES ME WELL"/ Arthur Rimbaud Once, if my memory serves me well, my life was a banquet where every heart revealed itself, where every wine flowed. One evening I took Beauty in my arms-- and I thought her bitter-- and I insulted her. I steeled myself against justice. I fled. O witches, O misery, O hate, my treasure was left in your care... I have withered within me all human hope. With the silent leap of a sullen beast, I have downed and strangled every joy. I have called for executioners; I want to perish chewing on their gun butts. I have called for plagues, to suffocate in sand and blood. Unhappiness has been my god. I have lain down in the mud, and dried myself off in the crime-infested air. I have played the fool to the point of madness. And springtime brought me the frightful laugh of an idiot. Now recently, when I found myself ready to croak! I thought to seek the key to the banquet of old, where I might find an appetite again. That key is Charity. (This idea proves I was dreaming!) "You will stay a hyena, etc....," shouts the demon who once crowned me with such pretty poppies. "Seek death with all your desires, and all selfishness, and all the Seven Deadly Sins." Ah, I've taken too much of that; still, dear Satan, don't look so annoyed, I beg you! And while waiting for a few belated cowardices, since you value in a writer all lack of descriptive or didactic flair, I pass you these few foul pages from the diary of a Damned Soul. geocities.com