still there on the hippie trail...
Two of them are dead, one murdered,
the other was their only intellectual
with some serious interest in the classical.
Paul is entertaining still and less pathetic than the Rolling Stones,
who never knew their limits where to stop
with some romantic flair kept intact –
they just kept on wasting everything on nothing
and especially on drugs – they all did that,
Sid Vicious and the Sex Pistols, Brian Jones,
the monster of vulgarity, king Elvis Presley,
while Cliff Richard and flamboyant Tommy Steele still have some style;
but almost all the others wasted everything on going down the drain
by drugs or alcoholism, like all jazz musicians;
and the question is, as it was put by that old king of rakes
George Jung in prison: Was it worth it?
He felt it was almost worth it, although he lost everything.
Even such endowed and ordered talents as the Beatles
went on drugs as they earned millions every day,
and Moody Blues were worshipping Tim Leary,
dead of aids, the freaked out drugs professor
who kept professing extreme liberalism until the end
and never had regrets or ceased to keep it up,
that totally absurd ecstatic exaltation about living just for trips,
as if life's meaning was complete detachment from it,
any means allowed for any kind of drastical escape,
as if hysteria was the truth and only happiness.
That whole concept was fantastic
and a kind of cult of pure phantasmagoria,
and however mad that universal craze was,
and how totally insane much of that music was,
I can but quietly agree, that all that waste,
and every single moment of it,
was completely worth it.
Poetry by Christian Lanciai
Read 569 times
Written on 2006-10-11 at 23:56
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for Andrea's Beatle challenge
Two of them are dead, one murdered,
the other was their only intellectual
with some serious interest in the classical.
Paul is entertaining still and less pathetic than the Rolling Stones,
who never knew their limits where to stop
with some romantic flair kept intact –
they just kept on wasting everything on nothing
and especially on drugs – they all did that,
Sid Vicious and the Sex Pistols, Brian Jones,
the monster of vulgarity, king Elvis Presley,
while Cliff Richard and flamboyant Tommy Steele still have some style;
but almost all the others wasted everything on going down the drain
by drugs or alcoholism, like all jazz musicians;
and the question is, as it was put by that old king of rakes
George Jung in prison: Was it worth it?
He felt it was almost worth it, although he lost everything.
Even such endowed and ordered talents as the Beatles
went on drugs as they earned millions every day,
and Moody Blues were worshipping Tim Leary,
dead of aids, the freaked out drugs professor
who kept professing extreme liberalism until the end
and never had regrets or ceased to keep it up,
that totally absurd ecstatic exaltation about living just for trips,
as if life's meaning was complete detachment from it,
any means allowed for any kind of drastical escape,
as if hysteria was the truth and only happiness.
That whole concept was fantastic
and a kind of cult of pure phantasmagoria,
and however mad that universal craze was,
and how totally insane much of that music was,
I can but quietly agree, that all that waste,
and every single moment of it,
was completely worth it.
Poetry by Christian Lanciai
Read 569 times
Written on 2006-10-11 at 23:56
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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andrea |
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Bob |
