PLAYING MUSIC lS NOT LIKE ATHLETICS
Playing music is not like athletics:
One may improve with age.
The untrained mind with natural talents
reflects the part and never the whole
it is too narrow to perceive itself.
Its goals erase themselves.
May I have your ear, that
curlicued receptor of sound?
(If this were Rome we could be so grand).
The movement from instinct to calculation is quite profound
You’ve listened and been more than a tape recorder.
Talent carries its own weight;
the intellect it weds determines greatness.
Our age is such that we must fight off fat.
One hopes the mind outlasts the skin.
If this is true,
I’II say goodbye to me,
and say hello to
yet another you.
Hooky Wooky CD single, 1996
Lou Reed, 1996
Photo: Renaud Monfourny, Les Inrockuptibles, no. 45
Sometimes when I’m all alone
I feel a type of fear
dawn’s descending, dusk is breaking
creep my darling near.
I see my life before me
as a seamstress sees her pins
and coated then with sin.
An education gone to waste
talent left ignored
imagination rent with drugs
someone who’s always bored
scared to death of life itself
but even more by death
not fit company for anyone
let alone a wife
no example for a child
therefore no sun for me
I am told never to think these thoughts
for they make me unhappy.
The sin was craziness you see
don’t blame yourself for that –
a strange childhood, wel1 that is true
but nothing can be done about that.
The future is the same for all
we face it as we can
and there is nothing wrong with fear
it proves that you’re a man.
Then other times I feel so good
the opposite you see
I think I’m full of talent
good old intuitive me.
I write all hours of the night
Others say that it is good
but they are lying to me.
Why would they lie, you might ask
and to this I would reply
encouraging me encourages them,
to cut me shows their lie.
For mine was illusion of life well spent,
everyone thought so.
I was courted as a rake
wherever I did go.
But I know warts, you can’t fool me
with flattering and praise.
You sing my songs to prove to yourselves
that you are not a waste.
THOUGHTS TURN TO MURDER LATE AT NIGHT
We can learn to murder in the early hours
mulling over dour fate
technology offering its endless alternatives:
poisons, boxes spewing chemicals.
we return to the odious spectacle of physical expression –
I’ll break you neck;
I’ll break your back
thinking unacquired savagery.
Karate is a special kind of dance.
Who pulverizes someone else’s bones
has lifted violence to the level of
which, unlike ballet,
does not require the total man.
Magic And Loss, Metal Memorial Edition CD, 1992
2 thoughts on “Remembering Lou Reed, Poet~Musician~Pioneer”
Amen Brother! Hey R.M., it’s Kym Fleming on the horn. Two days before his death I listened to the entire Velvet Underground (banana cover) album for no particular reason. I’ve been having some intense syncronisity experiences lately! Good to see the scene is alive and well. Say Hi to everybody for me. I’m out here in the wilds of Ohio, getting ready for a move to the West Coast. Not sure exactly where just yet. Keep the poetry flowing! P.S. I haven’t written a single poem since I left Albany. I guess I said everything I had to say!?! Kym F.
Been a long time brother, great to hear from you! Living in Maine~New Hampshire area now myself and putting together my next book. Not writing? I can’t imagine that Kym. Albany and the scene will always be there. Dan, Mary and Don as well as Thom and Mojavie are all still a part of the flow. Miss the old days man. Best!