Simon and Garfunkel: Scarborough Fair
(Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme)
O sweet spontaneous
earth how often have
the
doting
fingers of
purient philosophers pinched
and
poked
thee
,has the naughty thumb
of science prodded
thy
beauty .how
oftn have religions taken
thee upon their scraggy knees
squeezing and
buffeting thee
that thou
mightest conceive
gods
(but
true
to the incomparable
couch of death thy
rhythmic
lover
thou answerest
them only with
spring)
According to Q-Jo,
the whole tarot deck,
or at least the twenty-two
trump cards of the Major Arcana,
may be read as the Fool's journey. On one important level,
she explained, the major cards are chapters
in the story of a quest.
I'm talking the universal
human quest for understanding
and divine reunion.
And it doesn't matter whether
the quest starts with the Fool
or ends with him,
because it's a loop anyhow,
a cycle endlessly repeated.
When the naive young Fool
finally tumbles over the precipice,
he falls into
the world of experience.
Now his journey has really begun.
Along the way, he'll meet
all the teachers and tempters -
the tempters are teachers, too -
and challenging situations
that a person is likely to meet
in the task of his or her growing.
The Fool is potentially everybody,
but not everybody has the wisdom
or the guts to play the fool.
A lot of folks don't know
what's in that bag they're carrying.
And they're all too willing
to trade it for cash.
Inside the bag, they have
every tool they need
to facilitate their life's journey,
but they won't even
open it up and glance inside.
Subconsciously, the goal
of all of us out-of-control primates
is essentially the same,
but let me assure you of this:
the only ones who'll
ever reach that goal are
the ones who have the courage
to make fools of themselves along the way.
-- Tom Robbins Half Asleep in Frog Pajamas
An Irishman walks into a pub.
The bartender asks him, What'll you have?
The man says, Give me
three pints of Guinness, please.
The bartender brings him three pints and the man proceeds to alternately sip one, then the other, then the third until they're gone. He then orders three more.
The bartender says, Sir, no need to order as many at a time.
I’ll keep an eye on it and when you get low, I'll bring you a fresh one. The man replies, You don't understand. I have two brothers, one in Australia and one in the States. We made a vow to each other that every Saturday night we'd still drink together.
So right now, me brothers have three Guinness stouts too, and we're drinking together.
The bartender thought this a wonderful tradition and every week the man came in and ordered three beers. But one week, he ordered only two.
He slowly drank them, and then ordered two more. The bartender looked at him sadly. Sir, I know your tradition, and, agh, I'd just like to say that I'm sorry for your loss.
The man looked on him strangely before it finally dawned on him. Oh, me brothers are fine - I just quit drinking.
Paul Brady: Nothing But The Same Old Story
The Pogues: Thousands Are Sailing
May those who love us love us.
And those that don't love us,
May God turn their hearts.
And if He doesn't turn their hearts,
May He turn their ankles,
So we'll know them by their limping.
--Irish toast
The earth makes a sound as of sighs and the last drops fall from the emptied cloudless sky. A small boy, stretching out his hands and looking up at the blue sky, asked his mother how such a thing was possible. Fuck off, she said.
--Samuel Beckett
It was
53 years ago
today
that I
took a
gunshot wound
to the chest
and died
on an
operating table.
In solidarity
with bad poets
everywhere,
I proffer
this garbled
and unfinished
offering:
night mares (a ride on the dream horses)/
i almost kissed the mouth of Death
so wan and thin was her ruthless grin
that when she knocked i nearly let her in
brazen her manner and so barren her breath
as she placed her face right next to mine
i could certainly see her dark eyes shine
no word she spoke but pursed her lips
and touched my cheek with icy fingertips
such a wintry woman i remember thinking
then dreamed that i screamed and found myself sinking
deeper and downward into a trance of no waking
curious lady, is it my life loan you're taking?
she said, i do not steal, i just reclaim
and in paying your debt there is no shame
our night mares are saddled, the journey awaits
the black road before us, will you open your gates?
mental prisms and prison, the colors and the chains
no laughter in the hereafter, i offer you the reins
to the horse of forever, a steed as fast as bliss
but first we seal the bargain, i ask you for a kiss
i never married it's true, i said, but still i have a wife
and if only one kiss is left to give
if this lonely minute is the last i live
i plant my kiss on the open lips of Life
i will not kiss the mouth of Death
nor hold my destruction in my own tired arms
though i weary of struggling for ragged breath
and forgetfulness has its haggard charms
i will not hold the hand of harm
nor will i camp on the banks of Lethe
i will thaw myself out by candlelight
i will choose the day and refuse the night
she shook her head gravely, there were no tears
you answer me bravely, but do not think you can win
there are many more doorways, many more years
i remember you now, and you'll see me again
it was Philly and the bartender said
what and I said, gimme a draft, Jim,
got to get the nerves straight, I'm
going to look for a job. you, he said,
a job?
yeah, Jim, I saw something in the paper,
no experience necessary.
and he said, hell, you don't want a job,
and I said, hell no, but I need money,
and I finished the beer
and got on the bus and I watched the numbers
and soon the numbers got closer
and then I was right there
and I pulled the cord and the bus stopped and
I got off.
it was a large building made of tin
the sliding door was stuck in the dirt
I pulled it back and went in
and there wasn't any floor, just more ground,
lumpy, wet, and it stank
and there were sounds like things being sawed in half
and things drilled and it was dark
and men walked on girders overhead
and men pushed trucks across the ground
and men sat at machines doing things
and there were shots of lightning and thunder
and suddenly a bucket full of flame came swinging at
my head, it roared and boiled with flame
it hung from a loose chain and it came right at me
and somebody hollered, HEY LOOK OUT!
and I just ducked under the bucket
feeling the heat go over me,
and somebody asked,
WHAT DO YOU WANT?
and I said, WHERE IS YOUR NEAREST CRAPPER?
and I was told
and I went inside
then came out and saw silhouettes of men
moving through flame and sound and
I walked to the door, got outside, and
took the bus back to the bar and sat down
and ordered another draft, and Jim asked,
what happened? I said, they didn't want me, Jim.
then this whore came in and sat down and everybody
looked at her, she looked fine, and I remember it
was the first time in my life I almost wished I had a
vagina and clit instead of what I had, but in 2 or 3 days
I got over that and I was reading the
want ads again.
--Charles Bukowski Looking for a Job
Shall We Go You And I While We Can (51 years Later)
Grateful Dead: Dark Star...2/24/74
This is perhaps why
Dante chooses the poet
Virgil to be his guide
in the Inferno;
in visiting a strange location,
it's always best to go
with someone who's
been there before,
and – most important of all
on a sightseeing tour of Hell
– who might also know
how to get you out again.
Great laughter rang from all sides. I wondered what the spirit of the Mountain was thinking; and looked up and saw jackpines in the moon, and saw ghosts of old miners, and wondered about it. In the whole eastern dark wall of the Divide this night there was silence and the whisper of the wind, except in the ravine where we roared; and on the other side of the Divide was the great western slope, and the big plateau that went to Steamboat Springs, and dropped, and led you to the eastern Colorado desert and the Utah desert; all in darkness now as we fumed
and screamed in our mountain nook, mad drunken Americans in the mighty land. And beyond, beyond, over the Sierras the other side of Carson sink was bejeweled bay-encircled night like old Frisco of my dreams. We were situated on the roof of America and all we could do was yell, I guess - across the night, eastward over the plains where somewhere a man with white hair was probably walking toward us with the Word and would arrive any minute and make us silent.
--Jack Kerouac On the Road
CHEOPS PYRAMID--ISIS TEMPLE SADDLE
TWO VIEWS OF HANCE RAPID
HAUNTED CANYON COTTONWOODS
