Twas the Night Before A Dead Show

Just in time for Christmas, a Dead head reworks the classic “Night Before Christmas”

Rise in Online Anti-Semitism? (and Some Random Rambling Poetry Stuff)

The Anti-Defamation League (ADL) states that since the crisis on Wall Streets, comments and incidents of anti-semitism have risen, since last month when banks such as Lehman Brothers went down.

In times of crisis people entangled in awe that soon turns to fear, and soon morphs into anger and the vitriolic search for scapegoats, as the shareholder sinks his head and in his bought with insomnia plunges into his open hands burying his face as he sits at the kitchen table. The Market, a gamble, We are all patrons in the elaborate Casino. Left it to chance and lost all, savage prejudices engulf.

Bob Dylan Gets a Pulitzer

Bob Dylan, poet of a generation to be honored with a Pulitzer Prize.

Bob Dylan, the 1960s poet and Rock/Folk singer and guitarist who roused a generation of Americans to action and deep thought and has inspired generations more, is to be awarded with a special Pulitzer Prize. The announcement came Tuesday. The Pulitzer Prize is usually awarded to journalists and writers. In the past it has also been awarded to classical and jazz musicians on a fairly regular basis. But Dylan will be the first rock musician to receive the annual award.

This award is well deserved. Nobody can write such profound lyrics as him. Truth, words, art, and innovation. Dylan has given us much.

Forbes:

On Tuesday, along with the usual awards for tip top journalism and brilliance in “drama, letters, and music” the Pulitzer board announced a special citation to Bob Dylan for “his profound impact on popular music and American culture, marked by lyrical compositions of extraordinary poetic power”. The nod is a real Pulitzer, not like an honorary degree from Harvard.

Dylan received his Pulitzer for musical excellence, but he definitely set a history changing expose to music with “Hurricane”. Dylan wrote the song about falsely- convicted boxer Rubin ‘Hurricane’ Carter and eventually helped overturn his wrongful conviction and inspired a movie with Denzel Washington, as the leading man.

Dylan’s provocative lyrics contain the sort of truth-fueled calls to arms that journalists aspire to: “Come Mothers, come fathers throughout the land/ And don’t criticize what you can’t understand/ Your sons and daughters are beyond your command/ Your old road is rapidly aging/ So get out of the new one if you can’t lend a hand/ For the times, they are- a-changin.”

Like I said previously, today’s rappers who sing about life on the street and feel that it is required that the words “bitches”, “hoes”, racial epithets, and a mention of a pistol every line or so could learn a thing or two from Dylan.

He has always managed to portray the grittiness or beauty of a concept, scene, or story without conforming to the old tried and tested formula, or using the same words. Molding language in a way that captivates listeners every time. He is a storyteller and in this age of discord, unease, and drama.

Bob Dylan Gets a Pulitzer

Bob Dylan, poet of a generation to be honored with a Pulitzer Prize.

Bob Dylan, the 1960s poet and Rock/Folk singer and guitarist who roused a generation of Americans to action and deep thought and has inspired generations more, is to be awarded with a special Pulitzer Prize. The announcement came Tuesday. The Pulitzer Prize is usually awarded to journalists and writers. In the past it has also been awarded to classical and jazz musicians on a fairly regular basis. But Dylan will be the first rock musician to receive the annual award.

This award is well deserved. Nobody can write such profound lyrics as him. Truth, words, art, and innovation. Dylan has given us much.

Forbes:

On Tuesday, along with the usual awards for tip top journalism and brilliance in “drama, letters, and music” the Pulitzer board announced a special citation to Bob Dylan for “his profound impact on popular music and American culture, marked by lyrical compositions of extraordinary poetic power”. The nod is a real Pulitzer, not like an honorary degree from Harvard.

Dylan received his Pulitzer for musical excellence, but he definitely set a history changing expose to music with “Hurricane”. Dylan wrote the song about falsely- convicted boxer Rubin ‘Hurricane’ Carter and eventually helped overturn his wrongful conviction and inspired a movie with Denzel Washington, as the leading man.

Dylan’s provocative lyrics contain the sort of truth-fueled calls to arms that journalists aspire to: “Come Mothers, come fathers throughout the land/ And don’t criticize what you can’t understand/ Your sons and daughters are beyond your command/ Your old road is rapidly aging/ So get out of the new one if you can’t lend a hand/ For the times, they are- a-changin.”

Like I said previously, today’s rappers who sing about life on the street and feel that it is required that the words “bitches”, “hoes”, racial epithets, and a mention of a pistol every line or so could learn a thing or two from Dylan.

He has always managed to portray the grittiness or beauty of a concept, scene, or story without conforming to the old tried and tested formula, or using the same words. Molding language in a way that captivates listeners every time. He is a storyteller and in this age of discord, unease, and drama.

Here’s a poem I wrote a few months ago

Just added a bit to it though.

Rain Storm Memories

Where did it all go?
The promises of past?
Why couldn’t it all just remain frozen
always last?
Why do I forget it all?
Could it be the weather?
Too much to drink at twilight?
when night seems like a sprawling epic,
spoiling for a fight.
tired?
smashed?
spirits in crisis whiplash.
Out of cash.
‘He never climbed the school yard jungle gym
or got his homework done.’
Playing hide and seek with mirages and chasing
his hearts flaming sun.
Knoted by naivette and difference uncultured hands.
Faces no longer match names.
Where will it all go tommarow?
Getting drenched in the rainstorms of sorrow?
Cause you don’t have anything to borrow,
from yesterday’s antiqued tommarow.

Here’s a poem I wrote a few months ago

Just added a bit to it though.

Rain Storm Memories

Where did it all go?
The promises of past?
Why couldn’t it all just remain frozen
always last?
Why do I forget it all?
Could it be the weather?
Too much to drink at twilight?
when night seems like a sprawling epic,
spoiling for a fight.
tired?
smashed?
spirits in crisis whiplash.
Out of cash.
‘He never climbed the school yard jungle gym
or got his homework done.’
Playing hide and seek with mirages and chasing
his hearts flaming sun.
Knoted by naivette and difference uncultured hands.
Faces no longer match names.
Where will it all go tommarow?
Getting drenched in the rainstorms of sorrow?
Cause you don’t have anything to borrow,
from yesterday’s antiqued tommarow.

Random thought: My issolation

I feel like the whole world is cloaked in a secret that I will never be in on.

All I can do is hunger for the nostalgia I never knew.

The embers of my imagination die out.

Dark!

Random thought: My issolation

I feel like the whole world is cloaked in a secret that I will never be in on.

All I can do is hunger for the nostalgia I never knew.

The embers of my imagination die out.

Dark!

A Poem I wrote a few weeks ago….

Where did it all go?
the promise of the past
Thought it would always be frozen always last.

Why do I forget it?
Weather?
Too much to drink at twilight?
When night seems like an epic spoiling for a fight.
Tired?
Smashed?
dashed?
spirits whiplashed by crisis?
out of cash?
Never climbed the school jungle gym or got his homework done.
Playing hide and seek with mirages and the chasing his hearts flaming sun
Where will it all go tommarow?
You gonna again get drenched in the rainstorms of sorrow?
Cause you don’t have anymore to borrow,
from yesterday’s antiqued and fading tommarow.

A Poem I wrote a few weeks ago….

Where did it all go?
the promise of the past
Thought it would always be frozen always last.

Why do I forget it?
Weather?
Too much to drink at twilight?
When night seems like an epic spoiling for a fight.
Tired?
Smashed?
dashed?
spirits whiplashed by crisis?
out of cash?
Never climbed the school jungle gym or got his homework done.
Playing hide and seek with mirages and the chasing his hearts flaming sun
Where will it all go tommarow?
You gonna again get drenched in the rainstorms of sorrow?
Cause you don’t have anymore to borrow,
from yesterday’s antiqued and fading tommarow.