Friday, January 17, 2014

Miller Williams ...

and a poem by same ...

Love and How It Becomes Important in Our Day to Day Lives

The man who tells you which is the whiter wash,
the woman who talks about her paper towels,
the woman whose coffee holds her home together,
the man who smells the air in his neighbor's house,

the man who sings a song about his socks,
the woman who tells how well her napkin fits,
the man who sells the four-way slicer-dicer,
the woman who crosses tape between her tits,

and scores besides trample my yard, a mob
demanding to be let in, like Sodomites
yelling to get at my guests but I have no guest.
I crawl across the floor and cut the lights.

"We know you're there," they say. "Open the door."
"Who are you?" I say. "What do you want with me?"
"What does it matter?" they say. "You'll let us in.
Everyone lets us in. You'll see. You'll see."

The chest against the door begins to give.
I settle against a wall. A window breaks.
I cradle a gun in the crook of my elbow.
I hear the porch collapse. The whole house shakes.

Then comes my wife as if to wake me up,
a box of ammunition in her arms.
She settle herself against the wall beside me.
"The towns are gone," she says. "They're taking the farms."

Hint:  It's about marketing.  I'm reminded of this ...


I can't get no satisfaction
I can't get no satisfaction
'Cause I try and I try and I try and I try
I can't get no, I can't get no
When I'm drivin' in my car
And the man comes on the radio
He's tellin' me more and more
About some useless information
Supposed to drive my imagination
I can't get no, oh no, no, no
A hey, hey, hey, that's what I say
I can't get no satisfaction
I can't get no satisfaction
'Cause I try and I try and I try and I try
I can't get no, I can't get no
When I'm watchin' my TV
And a man comes on and tells me
How white my shirts can be
But he can't be a man 'cause he doesn't smoke
The same cigarrettes as me
I can't get no, oh no, no, no
A hey, hey, hey, that's what I say
I can't get no satisfaction
I can't get no girl reaction
'Cause I try and I try and I try and I try
I can't get no, I can't get no
When I'm ridin' round the world
And I'm doin' this and I'm signing that
And I'm tryin' to make some girl
Who tells me baby better come back maybe next week
'Cause you see I'm on losing streak
I can't get no, oh no, no, no
A hey, hey, hey, that's what I say
I can't get no, I can't get no
I can't get no satisfaction, no satisfaction
No satisfaction, no satisfaction
I can't get no

Nor can I, my friend.  Nor can I.

I was listening to the Rolling Stones last night.  Sitting on my couch, reading first, then just listening to Exile on Main Street.  Which is really something.  Not my favorite, actually, but most people's.  I think mine is Beggar's Banquet.  And I'm surprisingly fond of Some Girls.  Since Shattered could, like totally be my national anthem.

"While I was a junkie, I learned to ski and made Exile on Main Street."
-- Keith Richards

Me?  I was sipping on a couple of fingers of Evan Williams Green Label.

1 Comments:

Blogger John Harbour said...

Thank you for this. A much needed poem that I don't think I've read. I see your RS reference, and raise you this. R is in LA for the SAG Awards tomorrow and I have been hunkering down with Stevie Ray Vaughan & Double Trouble Live at Montreux 1982 & 1985 and a well crafted rye. Tomorrow I will make a pulled pork that has smoked for 6-8 hours...figure that in a NYC apartment. It will be served with a fresh spicy cole slaw while SRV still plays on loop. And I will refill my glass of rye. Your bet.

5:05 PM  

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