Moz

After an energetic morning, I embarked on a Morrissey listening marathon this afternoon. From his days with The Smiths to his occasionally mercurial solo career, the man is indisputably a musical genius (and "genius" is a term I do not toss about lightly). Whereas many artists lose a certain amount of the inspiration of "the hungry years" and drop into crevices of creature comfort and stability, even Morrissey's recent output shines as brightly as older classics like "Viva Hate," "Your Arsenal," and "Bona Drag." And few songwriters can turn a lyrical phrase quite as deftly as "The Moz"...

Ah, Morrissey, it's so good to still have you around.


You Have Killed Me

Pasolini is me
'Accattone' you'll be
I entered nothing and nothing entered me
'Til you came with the key
And you did your best but

As I live and breathe
You have killed me
You have killed me
Yes I walk around somehow
But you have killed me
You have killed me

Piazza Cavour, what's my life for?

Visconti is me
Magnani you'll never be
I entered nothing and nothing entered me
'Til you came with the key
And you did your best but

As I live and breathe
You have killed me
You have killed me
Yes, I walk around somehow
But you have killed me
You have killed me

Who am I that I come to be here...?

As I live and breathe
You have killed me
You have killed me
Yes I walk around somehow
But you have killed me
You have killed me

And there is no point saying this again
There is no point saying this again
But I forgive you, I forgive you
Always I do forgive you.

(From the album "Ringleader Of The Tormentors")

deliverance

"Question And Answer" by Charles Bukowski

he sat naked and drunk in a room of summer
night, running the blade of the knife
under his fingernails, smiling, thinking
of all the letters he had received
telling him that
the way he lived and wrote about
that--
it had kept them going when
all seemed
truly
hopeless.

putting the blade on the table, he
flicked it with a finger
and it whirled
in a flashing circle
under the light.

who the hell is going to save
me? he
thought.

as the knife stopped spinning
the answer came:
you're going to have to
save yourself.

still smiling,
a: he lit a
cigarette
b: he poured
another
drink
c: gave the blade
another
spin.

--from The Last Night of the Earth Poems