Seems like every couple has "their song," I'm advocating that every break up should have its own song too. Just as songs from the better days remind you of long ago happiness, breakup songs remind you of hard-fought lessons. I need to remember.
I'm picking Jeff Buckley's "Hallelujah" for the C and D fiasco. Reminds me that part of loving someone also involves the possibility of getting hurt...badly.
I heard there was a secret chord
That David played and it pleased the lord
But you don't really care for music, do you
Well it goes like this the fourth, the fifth
The minor fall and the major lift
The baffled king composing hallelujah
Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah ....
Well your faith was strong but you needed proof
You saw her bathing on the roof
Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you
She tied you to her kitchen chair
She broke your throne and she cut your hair
And from your lips she drew the hallelujah
Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah .... .
Baby I've been here before
I've know this room and I've walked this floor
I used to live alone before I knew you
I've seen your flag on the marble arch
But love is not a victory march
It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah
Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah ....
Well there was a time when you let me know
What's really going on below
But now you never show that to me do you
But remember when I moved in you
And the holy dove was moving too
And every breath we drew was hallelujah
Well, maybe there's a god above
But all I've ever learned from love
Was how to shoot someone who outdrew you
It's not a cry that you hear at night
It's not somebody who's seen the light
It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah
Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah ....
I did my best, it wasn't much
I couldn't feel, so I tried to touch
I've told the truth, I didn't come to fool you
And even though
It all went wrong
I'll stand before the Lord of Song
With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah
I've been reading a lot more Charles Bukowski. I used to regard him as merely a dirty old man, which he was, but I've been stumbling on poems that reveal a certain tenderness and tragedy that have surprised me. In my arrogance I assumed that skidmarks and lusting after catholic school girls were all he had to offer. Then he writes something like "For Jane..." and I'm floored/touched/saddened by the emotion, the delicacy, and wryness of his works. It shows me the danger of dismissal...I almost missed this:
For Jane:With All the Love I Had, Which Was Not Enough:-Charles Bukowski
I pick up the skirt,
I pick up the sparkling beads
in black,
this thing that moved once
around flesh,
and I call God a liar,
I say anything that moved
like that
or knew
my name
could never die
in the common verity of dying,
and I pick
up her lovely
dress,
all her loveliness gone,
and I speak to all the gods,
Jewish gods, Christ-gods,
chips of blinking things,
idols, pills, bread,
fathoms, risks,
knowledgeable surrender,
rats in the gravy of 2 gone quite mad
without a chance,
hummingbird knowledge, hummingbird chance,
I lean upon this,
I lean on all of this
and I know:
her dress upon my arm:
but
they will not
give her back to me.
I'm picking Jeff Buckley's "Hallelujah" for the C and D fiasco. Reminds me that part of loving someone also involves the possibility of getting hurt...badly.
I heard there was a secret chord
That David played and it pleased the lord
But you don't really care for music, do you
Well it goes like this the fourth, the fifth
The minor fall and the major lift
The baffled king composing hallelujah
Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah ....
Well your faith was strong but you needed proof
You saw her bathing on the roof
Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you
She tied you to her kitchen chair
She broke your throne and she cut your hair
And from your lips she drew the hallelujah
Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah .... .
Baby I've been here before
I've know this room and I've walked this floor
I used to live alone before I knew you
I've seen your flag on the marble arch
But love is not a victory march
It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah
Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah ....
Well there was a time when you let me know
What's really going on below
But now you never show that to me do you
But remember when I moved in you
And the holy dove was moving too
And every breath we drew was hallelujah
Well, maybe there's a god above
But all I've ever learned from love
Was how to shoot someone who outdrew you
It's not a cry that you hear at night
It's not somebody who's seen the light
It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah
Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah ....
I did my best, it wasn't much
I couldn't feel, so I tried to touch
I've told the truth, I didn't come to fool you
And even though
It all went wrong
I'll stand before the Lord of Song
With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah
I've been reading a lot more Charles Bukowski. I used to regard him as merely a dirty old man, which he was, but I've been stumbling on poems that reveal a certain tenderness and tragedy that have surprised me. In my arrogance I assumed that skidmarks and lusting after catholic school girls were all he had to offer. Then he writes something like "For Jane..." and I'm floored/touched/saddened by the emotion, the delicacy, and wryness of his works. It shows me the danger of dismissal...I almost missed this:
For Jane:With All the Love I Had, Which Was Not Enough:-Charles Bukowski
I pick up the skirt,
I pick up the sparkling beads
in black,
this thing that moved once
around flesh,
and I call God a liar,
I say anything that moved
like that
or knew
my name
could never die
in the common verity of dying,
and I pick
up her lovely
dress,
all her loveliness gone,
and I speak to all the gods,
Jewish gods, Christ-gods,
chips of blinking things,
idols, pills, bread,
fathoms, risks,
knowledgeable surrender,
rats in the gravy of 2 gone quite mad
without a chance,
hummingbird knowledge, hummingbird chance,
I lean upon this,
I lean on all of this
and I know:
her dress upon my arm:
but
they will not
give her back to me.