Saturday, May 27, 2006

maybe the poet

here's a song about the truth that inspired me twenty-odd years ago. karen and i visited the salvadoran refugee camps in honduras at that time, and i carried cockburn's lyrics with me in my notebook.


Maybe the poet is gay
But he'll be heard anyway

Maybe the poet is drugged
But he won't stay under the rug

Maybe the voice of the Spirit
In which case you'd better hear it

Maybe he's a woman
Who can touch you where you're human

Male female slave or free
Peaceful or disorderly
Maybe you and he will not agree
But you need him to show you new ways to see

Don't let the system fool you
All it wants to do is rule you
Pay attention to the poet
You need him and you know it

Put him up against the wall
Shoot him up with pentothal

Shoot him up with lead
You won't call back what's been said

Put him in the ground
But one day you'll look around

There'll be a face you don't know
Voicing thoughts you've heard before

Male female slave or free
Peaceful or disorderly
Maybe you and he will not agree
But you need him to show you new ways to see

-- bruce cockburn, stealing fire (1984)

Wednesday, May 24, 2006

happy birthday, bob

I know God is my shield
And he won't lead me astray
Still I don't know what I'm gonna do
I was allright 'til I fell in love with you

from "Til I fell in love with you"
from Time Out Of Mind (1997)
Bob Dylan

Sunday, May 21, 2006

crooked shack

all this talk of LIGHT and not despairing of this world reminds me of a song i wrote long ago, not far from here, just across the water. i wrote it while working as a counsellor at a ymca camp, and i was living in a cabin called waterfront II, whose foundation was so unsettled that there was not a right-angle or perpendicular wall or level floor to be found. you'd drop a marble and quickly it would roll out of sight.

it has a hard, driving percussive guitar rhythm behind it.


crooked shack

june 30, 1982, waterfront II, camp wa-sa-ah-bun

try to sleep straight in a crooked bed
alla your blood rushes to your head
try to live right in a crooked world
gotta fly your banner let it unfurl

try to sit straight in a crooked chair
where's the comfort gone you don't know where
try to do the best but the world don't care
gotta shine your light in that darksome lair

[bridge]
god knows i can't do this alone
can't do this thing on my own
gotta find a friend
to make it to the end

i live my life in a crooked shack
got crooked windows front and back
but out in the distance i see a level land
there lies a home for woman and man


© 1982 peter ladage