Words and Music

One of my all time favorites music-wise is Simon and Garfunkel. A song, to my mind, is beautiful if the words that accompany the tune are beautiful too. Here are some of my favorite paragraphs from a bunch of S&G songs:

The Sounds of Silence:

And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon God they made.
And the sign flashed out its warning,
In the words that it was forming.
And the sign said,

“The words of the prophets
Are written on the subway walls
And tenement halls.
And whispered in the sounds of silence. “

I Am a Rock:

I have my books
And my poetry to protect me;
I am shielded in my armor,
Hiding in my room, safe within my womb.
I touch no one and no one touches me.
I am a rock,
I am an island.

And a rock feels no pain;
And an island never cries.

Leaves That Are Green:

I threw a pebble in a brook
And watched the ripples run away
And they never made a sound.
And the leaves that are green turned to brown,
And they wither with the wind,
And they crumble in your hand.

A Most Peculiar Man

He died last Saturday.
He turned on the gas and he went to sleep
With the windows closed so he’d never wake up
To his silent world and his tiny room;
And Mrs. Riordan says he has a brother somewhere
Who should be notified soon.
And all the people said, what a shame that hes dead,
But wasn’t he a most peculiar man?

A Poem On The Underground Wall:

Now from his pocket quick he flashes,
The crayon on the wall he slashes,
Deep upon the advertising,
A single worded poem comprised
Of four letters.

And his heart is laughing, screaming, pounding
The poem across the tracks rebounding
Shadowed by the exit light
His legs take their ascending flight…

Diamonds on The Soles of her Shoes:

People say I’m crazy
I got diamonds on the soles of my shoes
Well thats one way to lose
These walking blues
Diamonds on the soles of your shoes

Homeward Bound:

Tonight Ill sing my songs again
Ill play the game and pretend
But all my words come back to me
In shades of mediocrity
Like emptiness in harmony
I need someone to comfort me

The Dangling Conversation:

Its a still life water color,
Of a now late afternoon,
As the sun shines through the curtained lace
And shadows wash the room.
And we sit and drink our coffee
Couched in our indifference,
Like shells upon the shore
You can hear the ocean roar
In the dangling conversation
And the superficial sighs,
Are the borders of our lives.

and finally,

The Sun is Burning:

The sun is burning in the sky
Strands of clouds go slowly drifting by
In the park the lazy breeze
Are joining in the flowers, among the trees
And the sun burns in the sky….

Now the sun has come to earth
Shrouded in a mushroom cloud of death
Death comes in a blinding flash
Of hellish heat and leaves a smear of ash
And the sun has come to earth

Now the sun has disappeared
All is darkness, anger, pain and fear
Twisted, sightless wrecks of men
Go groping on their knees and cry in pain
And the sun has disappeared.

Ad Vitam

She sat there, the sun was on her shoulders. It was getting caught in her untidy hair, somehow it was always like this with her. Even on the beach, with a perfect sky painted in every hue– something would be amiss, a little something wrong and she wouldn’t make the cut. Her life wouldn’t ever qualify for a two-minute television commercial.

What people were those? With perfect lives, laughter, pet dogs that behaved and didn’t bite, children who returned with trophies after gulping down glasses of energy drinks, air conditioned houses that gave you enough oxygen supply and flat screen television to give you enough fake unhappiness to get you high.

So she sat there, wishing she’d brought her ash-tray to smoke yet another filter tip. Not that it would light with all this sea-breeze. The breeze was wonderful, or at least it was trying to be wonderful. It was trying to blow away all those things that stuck to her person. The little imprints that she’d tried to shake off all her life. A little mirthless smile. There was no way the breeze would succeed. The patchwork was so much, there was little fabric left in the original. She was like a little rag-doll.

Rag-dolls always get the raw deal. They’re first the favorite play-mate, loved and carried around. Then better play-mates arrive. First the giraffe displaces you, then the lion and then the beautiful Barbie. Hot and haute. Why would the rag-doll matter now? From somewhere deep within there was a cry, the tears welled up but didn’t really make make it down to the cheeks.

Time to nose-dive, and so she did. Back into the sea, with surf all around her, salty like her tears. Warm and happy, so for once she didn’t struggle. There she was, out in the watery depths, looking for wind-scattered bits of herself.

Cyber Style

Twitter is one way to feel less lonely. Take a look at twittervision and you’ll figure how popular Twitter really is. After you’re done looking at that take a look at Skype’s newest feature called Skype Prime– you get to charge for calls if you want. The potentials of both Twitter and Skype Prime are enormous, and people say technology ain’t everything?!