In My Secret Life

I’ve been publicly wishing on here that my favorite poets would sit down and write real books, but then I remind myself to be careful what I wish for. Leonard Cohen is one of the greatest living poets, and his books are boring and incoherent to the point of complete unreadability. How surprising to find that some things are better in small, heady doses of five minutes or less.

“In My Secret Life”

I saw you this morning.
You were moving so fast.
Can’t seem to loosen my grip
On the past.
And I miss you so much.
There’s no one in sight.
And we’re still making love
In My Secret Life.

I smile when I’m angry.
I cheat and I lie.
I do what I have to do
To get by.
But I know what is wrong,
And I know what is right.
And I’d die for the truth
In My Secret Life.

Hold on, hold on, my brother.
My sister, hold on tight.
I finally got my orders.
I’ll be marching through the morning,
Marching through the night,
Moving cross the borders
Of My Secret Life.

Looked through the paper.
Makes you want to cry.
Nobody cares if the people
Live or die.
And the dealer wants you thinking
That it’s either black or white.
Thank G-d it’s not that simple
In My Secret Life.

I bite my lip.
I buy what I’m told:
From the latest hit,
To the wisdom of old.
But I’m always alone.
And my heart is like ice.
And it’s crowded and cold
In My Secret Life.

Imagine

There hasn’t been much time for writing in the past couple of days. Luckily, this song needs no introduction.

“Imagine”

Imagine there’s no heaven
It’s easy if you try
No hell below us
Above us only sky
Imagine all the people
Living for today…

Imagine there’s no countries
It isn’t hard to do
Nothing to kill or die for
And no religion too
Imagine all the people
Living life in peace…

You may say I’m a dreamer
But I’m not the only one
I hope someday you’ll join us
And the world will be as one

Imagine no possessions
I wonder if you can
No need for greed or hunger
A brotherhood of man
Imagine all the people
Sharing all the world…

You may say I’m a dreamer
But I’m not the only one
I hope someday you’ll join us
And the world will live as one

 

If You Were Coming In the Fall

Music by Carla Bruni-Sarkozy, lyrics by Emily Dickinson. What more evidence do you need that Carla Bruni is an astounding woman? She’s a supermodel who’s still in demand, she’s a First Lady, she’s the kind of literature nerd who spends her free time setting famous poems to music, and she’s talented enough that people actually want to hear her sing those poems. The very definition of having it all, wouldn’t you say?

If you were coming in the fall,
I’d brush the summer by
With half a smile and half a spum,
As housewives do a fly.

If I could see you in a year,
I’d wind the months in balls,
And put them each in separate drawers,
Until their time befalls.

If only centuries delayed,
I’d count them on my hand,
Subtracting till my fingers dropped
Into Van Diemen’s land.

If certain, when this life was out,
That yours and mine should be,
I’d toss it yonder like a rind,
And taste eternity.

But now, all ignorant of the length
Of time’s uncertain wing,
It goads me, like the goblin bee,
That will not state its sting.

If You See Her, Say Hello

From the album that gave you the bile of Idiot Wind comes a very different ode to a woman who’s gone gone. In disclaimer, according to the Dylan himself, Blood on the Tracks was in no way influenced by the little fact that he was in the middle of getting divorced when it was written. We believe you, Bob. All those breakup songs just wafted in on the breeze, then. If you’re gonna be the subject of some poet’s divorce album, this tone of mournful resignation is the preferable way to go. At least he knows he’s at fault. Meditative songs like this one do shed more light on the human condition – and the artist’s condition – than spiteful angry ones.

If you see her, say hello, she might be in Tangier
She left here last early Spring, is livin’ there, I hear
Say for me that I’m all right though things get kind of slow
She might think that I’ve forgotten her, don’t tell her it isn’t so

We had a falling-out, like lovers often will
And to think of how she left that night, it still brings me a chill
And though our separation, it pierced me to the heart
She still lives inside of me, we’ve never been apart

If you get close to her, kiss her once for me
I always have respected her for busting out and gettin’ free
Oh, whatever makes her happy, I won’t stand in the way
Though the bitter taste still lingers on from the night I tried to make her stay

I see a lot of people as I make the rounds
And I hear her name here and there as I go from town to town
And I’ve never gotten used to it, I’ve just learned to turn it off
Either I’m too sensitive or else I’m gettin’ soft

Sundown, yellow moon, I replay the past
I know every scene by heart, they all went by so fast
If she’s passin’ back this way, I’m not that hard to find
Tell her she can look me up if she’s got the time

Read more: 
http://www.bobdylan.com/us/songs/if-you-see-her-say-hello#ixzz2S9987n31

If It Be Your Will

Sometimes there’s ambiguity in Leonard Cohen’s lyrics. Sometimes he seems to have the Almighty confused with one of his lovers. Not here. Here there are no loves and nothing profane. This song is about kneeling before God, plain and simple. Some of us have a hard time praying. We don’t like any of the words we learned in Sunday school and we can’t think of any new words to say to God. May we adapt some Leonard Cohen songs into a new modern prayer book for the young modern beautiful losers? And just in case the power of Cohen himself doesn’t reduce you to a quivering mess, check out Antony Hegarty’s version.

If it be your will
That I speak no more
And my voice be still
As it was before
I will speak no more
I shall abide until
I am spoken for
If it be your will
If it be your will
That a voice be true
From this broken hill
I will sing to you
From this broken hill
All your praises they shall ring
If it be your will
To let me sing
From this broken hill
All your praises they shall ring
If it be your will
To let me sing

If it be your will
If there is a choice
Let the rivers fill
Let the hills rejoice
Let your mercy spill
On all these burning hearts in hell
If it be your will
To make us well

And draw us near
And bind us tight
All your children here
In their rags of light
In our rags of light
All dressed to kill
And end this night If it be your will

I Can’t Forget

No one explains the human condition quite like Leonard Cohen. He writes about all the love, lust and bitterness everyone goes through so truthfully, yet makes it sound noble. There’s a lot of pitfalls in writing about those things. Even if we can relate to it, we often find the human condition of others irritating and pathetic. It takes a real poet to elevate the merely emotional into the spiritual.

“I Can’t Forget”

I stumbled out of bed
I got ready for the struggle
I smoked a cigarette
And I tightened up my gut
I said this can’t be me
Must be my double
And I can’t forget, I can’t forget
I can’t forget but I don’t remember what
I’m burning up the road
I’m heading down to Phoenix
I got this old address
Of someone that I knew
It was high and fine and free
Ah, you should have seen us
And I can’t forget, I can’t forget
I can’t forget but I don’t remember who

I’ll be there today
With a big bouquet of cactus
I got this rig that runs on memories
And I promise, cross my heart,
They’ll never catch us
But if they do, just tell them it was me

Yeah I loved you all my life
And that’s how I want to end it
The summer’s almost gone
The winter’s tuning up
Yeah, the summer’s gone
But a lot goes on forever
And I can’t forget, I can’t forget
I can’t forget but I don’t remember what

I Came As A Rat

“It takes a long time, but God dies too
But not before He’ll stick it to you”

Modest Mouse is a little bit of a love ‘em or hate ‘em proposition. Yes, they’re very eccentric and Isaac Brock sings weird. They also put out enough damn catchy melodies to get them noticed and even on indie radio when they’re lucky. It’s easy to overlook the hooks and even easier not to notice the lyrics. By the way, they always have great lyrics.

Well I ain’t sure, but I been told
He’s baking cakes inside our souls
Stayed awake, took a nap
Got myself my bottles back
I’m breakin’ them out on the street
Walkin’ around in my bare feet
I do not need you to tell me that I am not a cat
I caught a ride, we caught some air
He’s never gonna cut his hair
It takes more time to make a fake
We night swam down in the lake
Washed the dirt off our intentions
Prattle on ’bout bad inventions
I came as ice, I came as a whore
I came as advice that came too short
I came as gold, I came as crap
I came clean and I came as a Rat
It takes a long time, but God dies too
But not before he’ll stick it to you
Well I don’t know, but I been told
You never die and you never grow old
Uh oh!
I came as a call, I came as flat
I came too soon so I came back
I came as flowers, I came as nice
I came as dirt and I came as its price
It takes a long time, but God dies too
But not before he’ll stick it to you
I don’t know, but I been told
You never die and you never grow old
Uh Oh!

Heart With No Companion

So the great Leonard Cohen is on tour again. He must have enjoyed it so much last time. H certainly made a lot of money and the adulation must have felt good too. He’s become something of a mythical figure in his old age. Can you imagine any poet ever again becoming so revered? Is poetry even a thing anymore? Some people still write good song lyrics, but who among them would put down ‘poet’ as his profession? So the old wordsmith is on the road again. I don’t know if I can afford it this time around, although I couldn’t afford it last time either and that didn’t stop me. It almost feels greedy to want a second chance. I was lucky to see him once, I should be still grateful.

I greet you from the other side
Of sorrow and despair
With a love so vast and shattered
It will reach you everywhere
And I sing this for the captain
Whose ship has not been built
For the mother in confusion
Her cradle still unfilled

For the heart with no companion
For the soul without a king
For the prima ballerina
Who cannot dance to anything

Through the days of shame that are coming
Through the nights of wild distress
Tho’ your promise count for nothing
You must keep it nonetheless

You must keep it for the captain
Whose ship has not been built
For the mother in confusion
Her cradle still unfilled

For the heart with no companion …

I greet you from the other side …

God Is In the House

If anything were to be my karaoke jam, this would be it. For one, it doesn’t require great singing, because it hold together entirely on the lyrics, which are beyond brilliant. Nick Cave has always been a master of cutting through to the darkest depths of the human condition whilst also being wildly hilarious. Nowhere is this rare talent more brightly illuminated than here. Cave paints a picture of the stultifying, soul crushing fear and conformity that sometimes lurks behind the shiniest white picket fences. In a verdant, peaceful, god-fearing community folks are paralyzed with dread. Cave satirizes piousness and political correctness and the ongoing battles waged politically and personally over everything from sexuality to choice of kitten color. His voice ranges from sincere anguish to coldest sarcasm, dropping to a scary whisper or relishing lines about “goose-stepping, twelve-stepping teetotalitarianists”. The message may be, if there is one, that peace and prosperity bought at the price of self-expression is no peace at all but a hell made of good intentions.

We’ve laid the cables and the wires
We’ve split the wood and stoked
the fires
We’ve lit our town so there is no
Place for crime to hide
Our little church is painted white
And in the safety of the night
We all go quiet as a mouse
For the word is out
God is in the house
God is in the house
God is in the house
No cause for worry now
God is in the house

Moral sneaks in the White House
Computer geeks in the school house
Drug freaks in the crack house
We don’t have that stuff here
We have a tiny little Force
But we need them of course
For the kittens in the trees
And at night we are on our knees
As quiet as a mouse
For God is in the house
God is in the house
God is in the house
And no one’s left in doubt
God is in the house

Homos roaming the streets in packs
Queer bashers with tyre-jacks
Lesbian counter-attacks
That stuff is for the big cities
Our town is very pretty
We have a pretty little square
We have a woman for a mayor
Our policy is firm but fair
Now that God is in the house
God is in the house
God is in the house
Any day now He’ll come out
God is in the house

Well-meaning little therapists
Goose-stepping twelve-stepping Tetotalitarianists
The tipsy, the reeling and the drop down pissed
We got no time for that stuff here
Zero crime and no fear
We’ve bred all our kittens white
So you can see them in the night
And at night we’re on our knees
As quiet as a mouse
Since the word got out
From the North down to the South
For no-one’s left in doubt
There’s no fear about
If we all hold hands and very quietly shout
Hallelujah
God is in the house
God is in the house
Oh I wish He would come out
God is in the house

The Future

When Leonard Cohen thinks about the future he doesn’t see much to be optimistic about, though he’ll concede that “love’s the only engine of survival.” The Future was a depressing album, full of the world’s harshness. But this is Cohen, and though the world is ugly and cruel, there’s  still that crack letting in the light. Speaking of crack then, check out the spiffy video which comes with nifty subtitles but inexplicably bleeps out the bit about wanting crack and anal sex. Now, I somewhat understand why someone saying the word ‘sex’ on a Top 40 radio hit would get bleeped, but why bother bleeping Cohen, who isn’t about to get within ten miles of a Top 40 anything? Also, I’m fairly certain that ‘anal sex’ is a legitimate scientific term, not some kind of dirty slang, and this is the first I’ve heard of drug references getting bleeped. Maybe Canadian censorship in 1992 was more draconian than I’d previously realized?