4th Time Around



When she said, “Don’t waste your words, they’re just lies”
I cried she was deaf
And she worked on my face until breaking my eyes
Then said, “What else you got left?”

It was then that I got up to leave
But she said, “Don’t forget
Everybody must give something back
For something they get”

I stood there and hummed, I tapped on her drum
And asked her how come
And she buttoned her boot, and straightened her suit
Then she said, “Don’t get cute”

So I forced my hands in my pockets
And felt with my thumbs
And gallantly handed her
My very last piece of gum

She threw me outside, I stood in the dirt
Where everyone walked.
And after finding I’d forgotten my shirt
I went back and knocked

I waited in the hallway, she went to get it
And I tried to make sense
Out of that picture of you in your wheelchair
That leaned up against

Her Jamaican rum, and when she did come
I asked her for some.
She said, “No, dear”, I said, “Your words aren’t clear
You’d better spit out your gum”

She screamed till her face got so red
Then she fell on the floor
And I covered her up and then
Thought I’d go look through her drawer

And, when I was through, I filled up my shoe
And brought it to you
And you, you took me in, you loved me then
You never wasted time
And I, I never took much, I never asked for your crutch
Now don’t ask for mine

.   .   .  


I like to think that this BLOG PAGE is a celebration of the written word and from time to time I like to run a GUEST poem or a song lyric that I feel has something pertinent to say. During the past few weeks and months I have been exploring areas of the bizarre and random thought loosely connected around a current theme of exploration concerning mental illness.

Today I am sharing a song lyric by BOB DYLAN whose poetic writing I generally admire. I am inclined to agree with Alan Ginsberg who stated at one time that DYLAN was the one true poet of the 20th century. Interestingly, this piece wouldn’t count as one of my favourite poetic pieces by the great man as I get the feeling it was written at a time when DYLAN was reacting to overdue analyses of his work and influence by followers and critics alike, consequently he wrote a few songs that might be termed satirical in that they were partly Dylan’s attempt to respond in a humorous way to a kind of media obsession, an increasing tornado of speculation over his life and work. I say partly, as ironically these satirical backhanders and their lyrics actually invite further psychoanalysis of Dylan’s mental health at the time and go some way to exposing the personal stresses and pressure he was working under. Stresses that no doubt were reflected in his personal life with Sarah. 

About edenbray

I am a writer ... a beat poet who began writing poetry way back in 1966 ... 'edenbray is born ugly, wet, covered in blood, mucous & bodily functions, the effluence of my short life' ... I recently published my 1st solo Anthology - the best of 60 years writing - previously I ran my own Art Supplies Store for 40 yrs before I became a full-time writer I am a Blogger who has posted 1,000 poems - available in 24 themed booklets ... please ask for details + leave a 'like' or a comment for my encouragement, thank you so much for listening - I truly value your opinion on my work ~ in fact I literally survive on your creative input ~ edenbray
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