by seemslikeadream » Tue Jul 05, 2005 9:13 am
<!--EZCODE FONT START--><span style="color:teal;font-family:comic sans ms;font-size:xx-small;"><!--EZCODE ITALIC START--><em><br>In harmony may I walk.<br>With harmony before me may I walk.<br>With harmony behind me may I walk.<br>With harmony above me may I walk.<br>With harmony underneath my feet, may I walk.<br>With harmony all around me may I walk.<br>It is done in harmony.<br>Navajo</em><!--EZCODE ITALIC END--></span><!--EZCODE FONT END--><br><!--EZCODE IMAGE START--><img src="http://www.artwork-walterholl.de.nyud.net:8090/surreales_1/lg_boe_fluss_der_zeit.jpg" style="border:0;"/><!--EZCODE IMAGE END--><br><br><!--EZCODE FONT START--><span style="color:teal;font-family:comic sans ms;font-size:xx-small;"><!--EZCODE ITALIC START--><em>Showed me pictures in the gallery<br>Showed me novels on the shelf<br>Put my hands across the table<br>Gave me knowledge of myself.<br>Showed me visions, showed me nightmares<br>Gave me dreams that never end<br>Showed me light out of the tunnel<br>When there was darkness all around instead.<br>Tore down a la Rimbaud<br>And I wish my message would come<br>Tore down a la Rimbaud, you know it's hard some time<br>you know it's hard some time.<br>Showed me ways and means and motions<br>Showed me what it's like to be<br>Gave me days of deep devotions<br>Showed me things I cannot see.<br>Tore down a la Rimbaud<br>And I wish my purpose would come<br>Tore down a la Rimbaud, you know it's hard some time.<br>You know it's hard some time.<br>Showed me different shapes and colours<br>Showed me many different roads<br>Gave me very clear instructions<br>When I was in the dark night of the soul.<br>Tore down a la Rimbaud<br>And I wish my writing would come<br>Tore down a la Rimbaud, you know it's hard some time.<br>you know it's hard some time.</em><!--EZCODE ITALIC END--><br><!--EZCODE IMAGE START--><img src="http://coverart.last.fm/300x300/1412594.jpg" style="border:0;"/><!--EZCODE IMAGE END--><br><!--EZCODE IMAGE START--><img src="http://doors.com.sapo.pt.nyud.net:8090/Jim.jpg" style="border:0;"/><!--EZCODE IMAGE END--><br><!--EZCODE IMAGE START--><img src="http://www.elsiglodetorreon.com.mx.nyud.net:8090/images/news/espectaculos/2005/03/fe66817f207462400521aa9cc0afc41b.jpg" style="border:0;"/><!--EZCODE IMAGE END--><br><!--EZCODE ITALIC START--><em>All right, wild child full of grace<br>Savior of the human race, your cool face<br>Natural child, terrible child<br>Not your mother’s or your father’s child<br>Your our child, screamin’ wild<br>An ancient lunatic reigns in the trees of the night<br>Ha, ha, ha, ha<br>With hunger at her heels, freedom in her eyes<br>She dances on her knees, pirate prince at her side<br>Stirrin’ into a hollow idols eyes<br>Wild child full of grace, savior of the human race<br>Your cool face, your cool face, your cool face<br>Do you remember when we were in africa?</em><!--EZCODE ITALIC END--></span><!--EZCODE FONT END--><br><!--EZCODE IMAGE START--><img src="http://www.visualgallery.com.nyud.net:8090/masse/doors_masse_large.jpg" style="border:0;"/><!--EZCODE IMAGE END--><br><br><!--EZCODE FONT START--><span style="color:black;font-family:comic sans ms;font-size:xx-small;"><!--EZCODE ITALIC START--><em>Morrison was infatuated with Rimbaud because the two shared similar life traumas. <br>Rimbaud and Morrison were both essentially abandoned by their military fathers and left to the highly religious strong-arm of an overbearing mother. For Rimbaud, this abandonment included a systematic sheltering from the outside world, while Morrison was also left socially undeveloped due to the constant uprooting and replanting of the family required by the military. This space left by a lack of male influence would later be filled by the admiration of a male teacher. Rimbaud would be influenced by George Izambard, a professor at the College Charleville. Izambard had a love of poetry, especially modern poetry, which was shared by his star pupil Rimbaud. This commonality began a friendship between the two. For Morrison, his male influence would be found in Ed Brokaw, a film teacher at UCLA, who frequently found merit in his cinematic doings. These influences, however, would again lead to heartache due to abandonment. Izambard decided to go to war July 24, 1870, and Brokaw became disenchanted by Jim's film class final and reportedly told him that he had been very disappointed. The rejection of Morrison's film by Brokaw got him dismissed from the school's film festival, as well as earned him a D for the piece. For Rimbaud and Morrison, this second percieved abandonment led to the creation within themselves of a natural distrust in authority and distaste for male superiors. <br><br>Another similarity between the two poets is the possibility of a physical or sexual abuse encounter in their past. For Rimbaud, it manifested itself in his poem of "The Stolen Heart" or "Le Coeur volé" dated June 1871, in which the sixteen-year-old Rimbaud describes a sexual encounter, most likely one of sodomy which he was subjected to, probably, when he went to enlist in the military. For Jim Morrison, little more is known about the severity or nature of his abuse, but it is referred to in Patricia Kennealy's book Strange Days: My Life With and Without Jim Morrison. Here she writes: "Shadowy references have been made over the years to an episode in his childhood of an adult whom he trusted (nature of abuse and identity of adult unspecified by sources), and his subsequent rejection and angry dismissal by the parent to whom, in his shame and pain and bewilderment, he had turned to for help." Morrison's alcoholism, womanizing, and drug use as well as his return to the Oedipus myth in his lyrics, may all be attributed to this unspoken incident. <br><br>Finally, the song "Wild Child" has not been used by scholars to make a connection between Morrison and Rimbaud. But in fact,Morrison's lyrics inject him into the life of Rimbaud. The line "You remember when we were in Africa?" lyrically connects Morrison to Rimbaud, and contains a sense of yearning to escape with him into the depths of another land -- far away form L.A. and the rest of the world. "Wild Child" stands as a testimony to escapism. Morrison's voice inflection and chant-like vocals seem to summon Rimbaud through a sort of musical seance and ask permission for entrance into the spirit world. The vision quest Morrison begins here is a rampant theme in much of the Doors' lyrics and Morrison's poetry. By acknowledging how this song and the biographical similarities play deeply into Morrison's interest in Rimbaud the poet and the person, we as readers begin to uncover more and more similarities between the two literally.</em><!--EZCODE ITALIC END--></span><!--EZCODE FONT END--> <br><br><br><!--EZCODE FONT START--><span style="color:teal;font-family:comic sans ms;font-size:xx-small;"><!--EZCODE ITALIC START--><em>Departure<br>Arthur Rimbaud <br><br>DÉPART<br><br>Assez vu. La vision s'est rencontrée à tous les airs.<br>Assez eu. Rumeurs des villes, le soir, et au soleil, et toujours.<br>Assez connu. Les arrêts de la vie. -- O Rumeurs et Visions!<br>Départ dans l'affection et le bruit neufs!<br><br>DEPARTURE<br><br>Seen enough. The vision was met with in every air.<br>Had enough. Sounds of cities, in the evening and in the sun and always.<br>Known enough. Life's halts. --O Sounds and Visions!<br>Departure in new affection and new noise.</em><!--EZCODE ITALIC END--></span><!--EZCODE FONT END--><br><br><!--EZCODE FONT START--><span style="color:black;font-family:comic sans ms;font-size:xx-small;"><!--EZCODE ITALIC START--><em> R.E.M. song Departure come from this Rimbaud poem.</em><!--EZCODE ITALIC END--></span><!--EZCODE FONT END--><br><!--EZCODE IMAGE START--><img src="http://orangefox.svs.com.nyud.net:8090/rem/gif/discog/sp70502a.jpg" style="border:0;"/><!--EZCODE IMAGE END--><br><!--EZCODE FONT START--><span style="color:teal;font-family:comic sans ms;font-size:xx-small;"><!--EZCODE ITALIC START--><em>Just arrived singapore, san sebastian, spain, 26-hour trip<br>Salt lake city, come in spring<br>Over the salt flats a hailstorm brought you back to me<br>Salt lake city, come in spring<br>Over the salt flats a hailstorm brought you back to me<br>Here it comes (I’m carried away)<br>Here it comes (I’m carried away)<br>Here it comes<br>Departure, godspeed, bless his heart, good lord<br>What a fuck-up, what a fighter<br>A free-fall, motorcycle, hang-glider,<br>Hung on the line like a poison spider<br>Win a eulogy from william greider,<br>Car crash, ptomaine, disposable lighter,<br>A bus plunge, avalanche, a vinegar cider<br>Free-fall, motorcycle, hang-glider<br>Here it comes (I’m carried away)<br>Here it comes (I’m carried away)<br>Here it comes, back, back<br>Go, go, go, go, yeah<br>Go, go, go, go, yeah<br>Go, go, go, yeah<br>Well, everybody is young forever<br>There’s so much to tell you, so little time<br>I’ve come a long way since the whatever,<br>Shit, I still see a word, think of you<br>There is so much that I can’t do, yeah<br>You will be young forever<br>There’s so much that I can’t do<br>There is so much that I can’t do</em><!--EZCODE ITALIC END--></span><!--EZCODE FONT END--><br><!--EZCODE IMAGE START--><img src="http://mauerkunst.com.nyud.net:8090/imgs/v1/gallery/acagedbird.jpg" style="border:0;"/><!--EZCODE IMAGE END--><br><!--EZCODE FONT START--><span style="color:teal;font-family:comic sans ms;font-size:xx-small;"><!--EZCODE ITALIC START--><em> Let the Caged Bird Sing Alabama 3 <br>He had the hands of a missionary<br>She had the body of a nun<br>In the fumblings of their union<br>They found the key to Kingdom Come<br>He bought her a bird in a silver cage<br>For blessed company, 'cos he knew<br>one day they're gonna lock the door<br>And throw away the key<br>Blow out the candles,<br>Morning's moving in.<br>Flowers bloom on Alcatraz now.<br>Let the caged bird sing<br>Let the caged bird sing<br>The government called them terrorists<br>Class War, they called them saints<br>When they lost the plot they kept moving<br>Looking for heaven's gate<br>Stole a car and got as far<br>As the motel on Damascus Road<br>The TV screens threw back their dreams<br>When the cathode ray exploded.<br>Rimbaud left his soul behind<br>Leaving ghosts surveying the scene<br>Moving from the light into the dead of night<br>Just to keep his cold heart clean<br>The prisonaires from the sprawling slums<br>Saw a new day moving in<br>No baton charge from the ruling guards<br>Could stop the caged bird singing</em><!--EZCODE ITALIC END--></span><!--EZCODE FONT END--><br><!--EZCODE IMAGE START--><img src="http://ourdreamwithin.com.sapo.pt/lara_fabian-nue-page2m.jpg" style="border:0;"/><!--EZCODE IMAGE END--><br><!--EZCODE FONT START--><span style="color:teal;font-family:comic sans ms;font-size:xx-small;"><!--EZCODE ITALIC START--><em>La différence<br>Celle qui dérange<br>Une préférence, un état d’âme<br>Une circonstance<br>Un corps à corps<br>En désaccord<br>Avec les gens trop bien pensant<br>Les moeurs d’abord<br>Leur peau ne s’étonnera jamais des différences<br>Elles se ressemblent, se touchent<br>Comme ces deux hommes qui dansent<br>Sans jamais parler<br>Sans jamais crier<br>Ils s’aiment en silence<br>Sans jamais mentir, ni se retourner<br>Ils se font confiance<br>Si vous saviez comme ils se foutent<br>De nos injures<br>Ils préfèrent l’amour, surtout le vrai<br>à nos murmures<br>Lls parlent souvent<br>Des autres gens<br>Qui s’aiment si fort<br>Qui s’aiment comme on dit normalement<br>De cet enfant<br>Tellement absent<br>De ce mal du sang qui court<br>Et tue si librement<br>Leurs yeux ne s’éloigneront jamais par négligence<br>Ils se reconnaissent, s’apprivoisent<br>Comme ces deux femmes qui dansent<br>Sans jamais parler<br>Sans jamais crier<br>Elles s’aiment en silence<br>Sans jamais mentir, ni se retourner<br>Elles se font confiance<br>Si vous saviez comme ils se foutent<br>De nos injures<br>Ils préfèrent l’amour, surtout le vrai<br>à nos murmures<br>De verlaine à rimbaud<br>Quand on y pense<br>On tolère l’exceptionnelle différence<br>La difference<br>Quand on y pense<br>Mais quelle difference ? <br><br>A different love<br>Unspoken love<br>A melody engraved within<br>A circumstance<br>There are no words<br>Just human touch<br>And now and then someone that speaks<br>To say they’re wrong<br>And yet the skin will never once question the heart<br>There is a faith that is in love<br>To save the night<br>No word is spoken<br>The skies are open<br>Two men are in love<br>No need to proclaim that it ain’t the same<br>That won’t stop the doves<br>If only you could see it too<br>Somehow someday<br>Till the stars above can slow the pain<br>They chose to love<br>They’ll walk on by<br>And breathe the sight<br>Of lovers’ bloom the ones we paint in fairy tales<br>There ain’t no cure<br>To lonely roads<br>No turning back to days of when<br>A kiss was safe<br>Although their eyes will never once wander around<br>Somehow they believe, they succeed<br>To tell the doves apart<br>No word is spoken<br>The skies are open<br>Two women’re in love<br>No need to proclaim that it ain’t the same<br>That won’t stop the doves<br>If only you could see it too<br>Somehow someday<br>Till the stars above can slow the pain<br>They chose to love<br>From verlaine to rimbaud<br>Haven’t we learned<br>To embrace, celebrate the special love that’s true<br>A different love<br>There are no words<br>No words at all...</em><!--EZCODE ITALIC END--></span><!--EZCODE FONT END--><br><br><!--EZCODE IMAGE START--><img src="http://www.netrhythms.co.uk.nyud.net:8090/images/bob%20dylan.jpg" style="border:0;"/><!--EZCODE IMAGE END--><br><br><!--EZCODE FONT START--><span style="color:teal;font-family:comic sans ms;font-size:xx-small;"><!--EZCODE ITALIC START--><em>I've seen love go by my door<br>It's never been this close before<br>Never been so easy or so slow.<br>Been shooting in the dark too long<br>When somethin's not right it's wrong<br>Yer gonna make me lonesome when you go.<br>Dragon clouds so high above<br>I've only known careless love,<br>It's always hit me from below.<br>This time around it's more correct<br>Right on target, so direct,<br>Yer gonna make me lonesome when you go.<br>Purple clover, Queen Anne lace,<br>Crimson hair across your face,<br>You could make me cry if you don't know.<br>Can't remember what I was thinkin' of<br>You might be spoilin' me too much, love,<br>Yer gonna make me lonesome when you go.<br>Flowers on the hillside, bloomin' crazy,<br>Crickets talkin' back and forth in rhyme,<br>Blue river runnin' slow and lazy,<br>I could stay with you forever<br>And never realize the time.<br>Situations have ended sad,<br>Relationships have all been bad.<br>Mine've been like Verlaine's and Rimbaud.<br>But there's no way I can compare<br>All those scenes to this affair,<br>Yer gonna make me lonesome when you go.<br>Yer gonna make me wonder what I'm doin',<br>Stayin' far behind without you.<br>Yer gonna make me wonder what I'm sayin',<br>Yer gonna make me give myself a good talkin' to.<br>I'll look for you in old Honolulu,<br>San Francisco, Ashtabula,<br>Yer gonna have to leave me now, I know.<br>But I'll see you in the sky above,<br>In the tall grass, in the ones I love,<br>Yer gonna make me lonesome when you go.</em><!--EZCODE ITALIC END--></span><!--EZCODE FONT END--><br><br><!--EZCODE FONT START--><span style="color:black;font-family:comic sans ms;font-size:xx-small;"><!--EZCODE ITALIC START--><em>Dylan to the works of Rimbaud:<br>"I came across one of his letters called "Je est un autre," which translates into "I is someone else." When I read those words the bells went off. It made perfect sense. I wished someone would have mentioned that to me earlier. <br><br>I am interested in all aspects of life. Revelations and<br>realizations. Lucid thought that can be translated into songs,<br>analogies, new information. I am better at it now. Not really written yet anything to make me stop writing. Like, I haven't come to the place that Rimbaud came to when he decided to stop writing and run guns in Africa.<br><br> Dylan has been influenced a great deal by poetry. He counts Arthur Rimbaud and Paul Verlaine alongside Woody Guthrie as his most important forebears. "I can create several orbits that travel and intersect each other and are set up in a metaphysical way." </em><!--EZCODE ITALIC END--></span><!--EZCODE FONT END--><br><br><!--EZCODE FONT START--><span style="color:black;font-family:comic sans ms;font-size:xx-small;"><!--EZCODE ITALIC START--><em><br>Rimbaud's contribution was to make the role of <br>poetry one of mystic release and revelation and <br>to devise a technique which gave the immediacy <br>of direct sensation to the morbid dream, <br>hallucination, or vision, by the juxtaposition <br>of symbols and images.<br>He deliberately cultivated his world of <br>unreality. "I accustomed myself to simple <br>hallucination" -- before going on to double <br>and triple hallucination.<br>His whole life was a flight from the everyday <br>and the "real" -- his early vagabondage, his <br>brief period of literary activity, and his <br>final years, during which "the adventurer in <br>the real replaced the adventurer in the ideal."<br>His extreme sensibility to the "deep and eternal <br>wound" inflicted by life, is condensed into <br>sharply drawn images grouped about central <br>metaphors.<br>His elliptical compressions and complex rhythms, <br>his use of words for their tone color, his <br>distortions of common meaning and syntax, his <br>use of free verse -- are characteristic <br>techniques deliberately employed to produce the <br>overtones of the vague, mysterious, intuitively <br>sensed, complexities of the life of the mind.</em><!--EZCODE ITALIC END--></span><!--EZCODE FONT END--><br><br><!--EZCODE IMAGE START--><img src="http://www.jonas.io.nyud.net:8090/pictures/albums/300x297/Neil_Young_Unplugged.jpg" style="border:0;"/><!--EZCODE IMAGE END--><br><!--EZCODE FONT START--><span style="color:teal;font-family:comic sans ms;font-size:xx-small;"><!--EZCODE ITALIC START--><em><br>There is a town in north ontario,<br>With dream comfort memory to spare,<br>And in my mind I still need a place to go,<br>All my changes were there.<br>Blue, blue windows behind the stars,<br>Yellow moon on the rise,<br>Big birds flying across the sky,<br>Throwing shadows on our eyes.<br>Leave us<br>Helpless, helpless, helpless<br>Baby can you hear me now? <br>The chains are locked and tied across the door,<br>Baby, sing with me somehow.<br>Blue, blue windows behind the stars,<br>Yellow moon on the rise,<br>Big birds flying across the sky,<br>Throwing shadows on our eyes.<br>Leave us<br>Helpless, helpless, helpless.</em><!--EZCODE ITALIC END--></span><!--EZCODE FONT END--><br><!--EZCODE IMAGE START--><img src="http://www.mousestudios.com.nyud.net:8090/img/gallery300/neil_young.jpg" style="border:0;"/><!--EZCODE IMAGE END--><br><br><!--EZCODE FONT START--><span style="color:teal;font-family:comic sans ms;font-size:xx-small;"><!--EZCODE ITALIC START--><em>Say, my love, I came to you<br>With best intentions<br>You laid down and gave to me just what<br>I’m seeking<br>Love, you drive me to distraction<br>Hey my love do you believe that we<br>Might last a thousand years<br>Or more if not for this? <br>Our flesh and blood it ties<br>You and me right up<br>Tie me down<br>Celebrate we will<br>Because life is short but sweet for certain<br>We’re climbing two by two<br>To be sure these days continue,<br>These things we cannot change<br>Hey, my love, you came to me like<br>Wine comes to this mouth<br>Grown tired of water all the time<br>You quench my heart and you<br>Quench my mind<br>Celebrate we will<br>Because life is short but sweet for certain<br>We’re climbing two by two<br>To be sure these days continue,<br>The things we cannot<br>Celebrate, you and me, climbing<br>Two by two, to be sure<br>These days continue, things we cannot change<br>Oh, my love, I came to you<br>With best intentions<br>You laid down and gave to me just what<br>I’m seeking<br>Celebrate we will<br>Because life is short but sweet for certain<br>We’re climbing two by two<br>To be sure these days continue,<br>Things we cannot change...<br>Things we cannot change</em><!--EZCODE ITALIC END--></span><!--EZCODE FONT END--><br><!--EZCODE IMAGE START--><img src="http://www.spacechase.net.nyud.net:8090/green/2004_rock_peace/Dave_Matthews_Band_4_-_Vote_for_Change_tour_10604_-_lg.6557675.jpg" style="border:0;"/><!--EZCODE IMAGE END--><br><!--EZCODE FONT START--><span style="color:teal;font-family:comic sans ms;font-size:xx-small;"><!--EZCODE ITALIC START--><em>Celebrate we will a state of independence<br>driving <br>devotion distraction departure, tx hanshan</em><!--EZCODE ITALIC END--></span><!--EZCODE FONT END--> <p></p><i>Edited by: <A HREF=http://p097.ezboard.com/brigorousintuition.showUserPublicProfile?gid=seemslikeadream@rigorousintuition>seemslikeadream</A> at: 7/5/05 7:17 am<br></i>