| Quote |
2009-12-20
The Passing Strange by John Masefield (poem used in the Szabó & Kastning Review
THE PASSING STRANGE
(By John Masefield)
Out of the earth to rest or range
Perpetual in perpetual change,
The unknown passing through the strange.
Water and saltness held together
To tread the dust and stand the weather,
And plough the field and stretch the tether,
To pass the wine-cup and be witty,
Water the sands and build the city,
Slaughter like devils and have pity,
Be red with rage and pale with lust,
Make beauty come, make peace, make trust,
Water and saltness mixed with dust;
Drive over earth, swim under sea,
Fly in the eagle’s secrecy,
Guess where the hidden comets be;
Know all the deathy seeds that still
Queen Helen’s beauty, Caesar’s will,
And slay them even as they kill;
Fashion an altar for a rood,
Defile a continent with blood,
And watch a brother starve for food:
Love like a madman, shaking, blind,
Till self is burnt into a kind
Possession of another mind;
Brood upon beauty, till the grace
Of beauty with the holy face
Brings peace into the bitter place;
Prove in the lifeless granites, scan
The stars for hope, for guide, for plan;
Live as a woman or a man;
Fasten to lover or to friend,
Until the heart break at the end:
The break of death that cannot mend;
Then to lie useless, helpless, still,
Down in the earth, in dark, to fill
The roots of grass or daffodil.
Down in the earth, in dark, alone,
A mockery of the ghost in bone,
The strangeness, passing the unknown.
Time will go by, that outlasts clocks,
Dawn in the thorps will rouse the cocks,
Sunset be glory on the rocks:
But it, the thing, will never heed
Even the rootling from the seed
Thrusting to suck it for its need.
Since moons decay and suns decline,
How else should end this life of mine?
Water and saltness are not wine.
But in the darkest hour of night,
When even the foxes peer for sight,
The byre-cock crows; he feels the light.
So, in this water mixed with dust,
The byre-cock spirit crows from trust
That death will change because it must;
For all things change, the darkness changes,
The wandering spirits change their ranges,
The corn is gathered to the granges.
The corn is sown again, it grows;
The stars burn out, the darkness goes;
The rhythms change, they do not close.
They change, and we, who pass like foam,
Like dust blown through the streets of Rome,
Change ever, too; we have no home,
Only a beauty, only a power,
Sad in the fruit, bright in the flower,
Endlessly erring for its hour,
But gathering, as we stray, a sense
Of Life, so lovely and intense,
It lingers when we wander hence,
That those who follow feel behind
Their backs, when all before is blind,
Our joy, a rampart to the mind. |
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2009-11-12
Verse ~ "The Gallery" and "Why We Were Not Invaded"
THE GALLERY
In the museum of our lives
What room would house you?
Modern, Natural History? Antiquities?
All souls start as light and shadow
Color is added by memory
Who we are is what we represent.
Most souls remain abstracts
WHY WE WERE NOT INVADED . . .
They sent news crews from the void
That idiot species from beneath
Our attention spans are legend
But these creatures talk for pleasure
Imagine that if you can
Tongues wagging across the universe
We have quarantined that sector as cosmic
Rot as the quarter of perpetual boredom
I swear the words they say could fill a balloon
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I'm Billy Sheppard and this is Billy's Bunker. The Bunker has been two years in the making before appearing on this website. This writing started as a blog on myspace written for a lark. This site now functions as a filter for good indie music of all descriptions. There are not negative reviews, and very little criticism. I don't believe in five star ratings. I don't think any song is 10% better than any other. Music is a gift, and if it works at all it causes people to feel something. Emotions are unruly things. You know them when you feel them. There's not much to account for what makes a song good. I know it when I feel it. You know it too, and what works for me may not work for you. I'm not smarter than the music, and I don't play it, don't write songs. Most of what I know I picked up from hundreds of conversations with composers and songwriters over the years. I listen to the music I write about longer and deeper than any sane normal listener, and I daresay more than most critics of this music. Maybe these reviews are fan letters, but they aren't some smart guy showing off what he thinks will sell in the marketplace. I'd rather write about a great unknown album that won't get played on the radio than some cookie cutter hit that will line the pockets of accountants and suits in the music industry. If you are looking for something to listen to, this site may have something you need. The world may not be saved by music, but without it there wouldn't be much to save.
Music is music is music is music. Pop, Rock, Classical composition, Death Metal, Hip Hop, Folk, Blues, Afro Beat . . . There's no point in picking one type of music and sticking to it. The more you can hear the more you can feel. The Kronos Quartet and P-Funk/Parlament both are after your heart. Give in and find the joy they have to offer.
"Only your notes are pure contraption,
Only your song is an absolute gift"
~ W.H.Auden from his poem "The Composer"
A word about genres: They suck! A good friend and massively talented guitarist Billy Jenkins has lead me to the opinion that categories generally function to keep the listener from finding anything new to listen to. Record bins benefit from some sort of organization, but something new always seems a little out of reach if you don't stray from your favorite stack. There is a unified field theory of music: A song either makes you feel something or it don't bleeping matter. Finding new music can lead you to a new way of feeling. My favorite category in my list is Category X. Ain't no proper bin for that music. Please please please stray from your normal. There are doors in your heart haven't been opened for a long long time. If you feel, you are healed.
I've never understood a single bar of music in my life, but I've felt it."
~ Igor Stravinsky
THE LINK BELOW WILL TAKE YOU TO A REVIEW OF CHAPA'S "A LOOK TO THE WEST." I BELIEVE THEY ARE THE BEST MIX OF NEW COMPOSITION AND POP MUSIC I'VE YET TO HEAR.
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