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Musician's Dead Religion


Author: Astarael
ASL Info:    19/Girl/Baltimore
Elite Ratio:    5.34 - 87 /102 /38
Words: 756
Class/Type: Poetry /Misc
Total Views: 1171
Average Vote:    No vote yet.
Bytes: 5483



Description:


I was on Charles Street, downtown, at a sort of jam session in those beauitful old rowhouses and there was a guy there who played the cello and had lived in all these countries and so it inspired me to write a poem. But most things here are from my imagination. I changed the guy to a girl and cello to guitar, though I love both!

Anyway, I think string players (playing violin myself) are some of saddest, most poetic people in on earth.

Enjoy! And please, tell me how to make it better.


Musician's Dead Religion



The first time I saw you
Playing your guitar
Was in a smoky rowhouse basement
Down on Charles Street,
Like a hippy reincarnate:
A ghost from our parent's past.

There I was
Drinking highballs
Off a marble bar
With black lacquered stools
And playing pool
With an antique cue.

There you were:
Fine-tuned dreamer,
Top-class weaver
Timelessly seaming yourself
Into the fabric of life;
The perfect place
For that kind of thing.

Old school girl with an old school guitar,
Softly singing sultry chords
To the people gathered 'round you--
The lovers and the sleepers
Caught in the trance
Of your melodic tune.

You strummed our strings in perfect harmony.

The sativa sweetness
Engulfed your memory,
Stored forever
In the flames of our lighters
Like a dried flower in a press
Rediscovered years later.

Perfect image of a soulful girl--
Long wavy hair falling carelessly
Over a sad artist's face
A face to make the angels cry
Crepe green skirt flowing
Like the sepals on a rosebud

We all said
That we wanted to get out of here
But you were the only one
Who actually left.
We all loved you.
We all secretly looked up to you.

We all wanted to be
That free spirit
Unobliged uncompromised,
Caught up in the moment
And swept away the next
Like a leaf in the wind.

You swept away from us like the wind.

We knew that night
Had to end
And when the last of us sleepy dreamers
Left that house
You put away your guitar
And said goodbye.

Gypsy, you packed your caravan
And trekked into the wide wide wilderness,
Said it was your destiny,
Said it was all meant to be,
And that these city walls
Could not contain your restless soul.

Off you went, traversing the sky,
Building your life
Into a story with short chapters
Like the ones you read
At cafes in Prague
While you waited for the train.

You were like a novelist's character,
Canonized in your plight;
Too real for fiction,
Too tangible for fantasy,
But too pure
For reality.

Princess, you rode a white mare where the cars drove with headlights.

We were the parents
And you were the child
Bold, daring,
Witnessing all;
But really,
Were you seeing anything?

We all thought,
We all hoped,
That you would settle back in
Like a puzzle piece
Gone astray
Under the couch for a while.

But we grew older while you grew younger
And still you didn't fit;
We watched with admiration
And concern
And a little bit of envy
As you pieced together your own picture.

As you cleared your own path
In virgin forests
Whose lush fruit
We had yet to taste,
Whose fresh air
We had yet to breathe.

But you sat in the boughs and threw mangoes our way.

You sent us pictures too
Of sunrises you saw blaze
Across early morning skies
And suns you saw set
Below green twilight
Into a starry oblivion.

Of stony Scottish castles,
Musky Indian temples,
Marble Roman ruins,
Flowery English manors,
And tranquil Japanese gardens
Radiating with your deep-felt zen.

Experiences too:
We sighed at your latest lovers
Merged between the bedsheets
In your hotel rooms, oh so different
From our carefully balanced relationships
Back at home.

You were the golden thread
In our black sweaters.
We noticed
The look in your eyes
Like two dewdrops
Caught in the morning sun.

So, you were the panacea; you were the vial of lifeblood.

But we saved you for our dreams--
Our quiet lives couldn't follow
The virtues you preached,
The philosophy you upheld,
The unknowing you faced
From one day to the next.

You were like Diana
So beautiful in the dawn,
With sweet songs piercing us
Like silver arrows in the night
Lodging in our bosoms
Resting in our hearts.

Moon goddess
We did not ask you to come home
For you were liberated and independent;
Free from the shackles
That bind mere mortals
To their own realms.

But your religion was so dead;
We admired the classic grace
Of your statue in the Parthenon
But we did not follow you,
For no one else
Speaks your language anymore.

No, they say it died out over time; they say you died out over time.




Submitted on 2005-11-01 19:21:11     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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Comments


  If you can write like this at 15 what are you going to be writing like when you are 25 with 10 more years experience? I expect to see you published. This seems like the same old story of the world gypsy and the stay at homes but told with such flair and wonderful imagery that this poem is quite special. I especially like the stanza



Off you went, traversing the sky,
Building your life
Into a story with short chapters
Like the ones you read
At cafes in Praque
While you waited for the train.

A life crammed with incident and caught in snatches between trains brilliant. However, I think this poem would benefit from a little clipping. I have taken the liberty of editing the verses I'd cut but of course this is purely subjective and all your stanzas are exceptionally good.

The first time I saw you
Playing your guitar
Was in a smoky row-house basement
Down on Charles Street,
Like a hippy reincarnate:
A ghost from our parent's past.

Old school girl with an old school guitar,
Softly singing sultry chords
To the people gathered 'round you-
The lovers and the sleepers
Caught in the trance
Of your melodic tune.

You swept away from us like the wind.

We knew that night
Had to end
And when the last of us sleepy dreamers
Left that house
You put away your guitar
And said goodbye.

Gypsy, you packed your caravan
And trekked into the wide wide wilderness,
Said it was your destiny,
Said it was all meant to be,
And that these city walls
Could not contain your restless soul.

Off you went, traversing the sky,
Building your life
Into a story with short chapters
Like the ones you read
At cafes in Prague
While you waited for the train.

Princess, you rode a white mare where the cars drove with headlights.

But we grew older while you grew younger
And still you didn't fit;
We watched with admiration
And concern
And a little bit of envy
As you pieced together your own picture.

As you cleared your own path
In virgin forests
Whose lush fruit
We had yet to taste,
Whose fresh air
We had yet to breathe.

But you sat in the boughs and threw mangoes our way.

You sent us pictures too
Of sunrises you saw blaze
Across early morning skies
And suns you saw set
Below green twilight
Into a starry oblivion.

Of stony Scottish castles,
Musky Indian temples,
Marble Roman ruins,
Flowery English manors,
And tranquil Japanese gardens
Radiating with your deep-felt zen.

You were the golden thread
In our black sweaters.
We noticed
The look in your eyes
Like two dewdrops
Caught in the morning sun.

So, you were the panacea; you were the vial of lifeblood.

But we saved you for our dreams-
Our quiet lives couldn't follow
The virtues you preached,
The philosophy you upheld,
The unknowing you faced
From one day to the next.

You were like Diana
So beautiful in the dawn,
With sweet songs piercing us
Like silver arrows in the night
Lodging in our bosoms
Resting in our hearts.

Moon goddess
We did not ask you to come home
For you were liberated and independent;
Free from the shackles
That bind mere mortals
To their own realms.

But your religion was so dead;
We admired the classic grace
Of your statue in the Parthenon
But we did not follow you,
For no one else
Speaks your language anymore.

No, they say it died out over time; they say you died out over time.

Of course everyone is going to have their own ideas about which stanzas to cut and they are all really strong. Please let me know if you do trim it because I'd love to see it. But whether or not you do decide to trim it I think it is a wonderful poem and I'm very impressed - infact I was going to leave it till you edited it to fav it but what the heck whether you shorten it or not its a fav with me.
Please stay in touch
Comradenessie
| Posted on 2005-11-10 00:00:00 | by comradenessie | [ Reply to This ]
  This is actually quite fanfu.ckintastic. I read through the whole lot, and while it was long, it kept me captivated.

I disagree with there being 'unimportant' parts - it all ties in with a purpose I think. There is a lot of imagery that you have packed into this...

I play guitar and have had a lot of crazy times - perhaps this is why this piece echoes a lot with me... for my situation at times and for others that I have met. Perhaps the jam sessions, exotic locales and the person you describe reminds me of a lot of people, including myself. Weird huh.

I might have to come back to this one, I think. You write wonderfully well for a fifteen year old I have to say... and I don't mean that condescendingly, it's just my opinion.

Actually, I will delve deeper, come to think of it. Some little nitpicky things - apostrophe on cafe's, and it's spelt canonized... those were the only ones I could see at this moment, but yea.

This stanza -
'As you cleared your own path
In virgin forests
Whose lush fruit
We had not got to taste,
Whose fresh air
We had not got to breath'
- 'we had not got to' is a weird way of putting it. Wouldn't 'we had yet to' sound much better? Just a thought.

And this stanza -
'But your religion was so dead;
We admired your classic grace
You statue in the Parthenon
But we did not follow you,
For no one else
Speaks your language anymore.'
- you mean 'your' not 'you', don't you? Actually, I would reword this part -
'But your religion was dead;
We admired the classic grace
Of your statue in the Parthenon'
- the word 'so' is redundant, likewise with an earlier part 'so zen' - perhaps it's too short on the tongue... something like 'Zen-like' or 'radiated Zen' - do you know what I mean? I'll leave that up to you to change to however you see fit, but I think it would definitely flow smoother.

Oh and this part -
'We wanted to cross
Sunrises and sunsets we wanted to watch.'
- 'and sunsets we wanted to watch' syntactically just doesn't work. Here's a suggestion, do what you want with it -
'We wanted to cross sunrises
And watch sunsets burn.'
- if you like it, keep it. It smooths out the syntax/grammar kink of that line in my opinion, but anything else would do fine with that reminder in mind. Or maybe you were missing a couple of words, in which case it would be -
''We wanted to cross sunrises
And (there were) sunsets we wanted to watch.'
- although I think it's not such a great phrase myself. Have you noticed I changed the enjambment of 'sunrises' to go on the preceding line? I think it works better there myself. You could do the same with 'ghost' in your first stanza, but these things are all up to you obviously.

As I said, this was totally nitpicky but I think this piece deserved it. And you know what? You described that feeling I get when I play guitar and sing... of being lost in my own freedom, closing my eyes and just forgetting the world... it's a magical feeling that is hard to overcome.

So that's why I'm faving it.
A beautiful write.

Peace,

Jase
| Posted on 2005-11-02 00:00:00 | by alteredlife | [ Reply to This ]
  Nicely done. I admire your word choices here. This was a bit long and un-important in parts but other parts were amazing. My favorite stanza is that of the puzzle piece under the couch for a while, that was much to my liking. I would encourage a minor revision and perhaps shorten it up a bit, but other than that you have done well.

Tom
| Posted on 2005-11-01 00:00:00 | by UnspokenDreamer | [ Reply to This ]


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