And so last time I posted The Gipsy Kings performing MY WAY so here's here's Frank Sinatra singing MY WAY followed by Elvis Presley. I hope you enjoy these versions as I do.
My Way Frank Sinatra
Elvis Presley Live-My Way
and one of my favorite Elvis' songs.
Elvis Presley-In The Ghetto
and one of the truly great spirituals Amazing Grace sung by Elvis Presley
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Saturday, October 25, 2008
Music of The Gipsy Kings & Ritchie Valens & Los Lobos
And now for your listening pleasure some Gipsy Kings & Los Lobos & Ritchie Valens:
Gipsy Kings - AMi Manera ( My Way )
Gipsy Kings- Volare
Los Lobos-La Bamba
Ritchie Valens -La Bamba
see you later,
GORD.
Gipsy Kings - AMi Manera ( My Way )
Gipsy Kings- Volare
Los Lobos-La Bamba
Ritchie Valens -La Bamba
see you later,
GORD.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Arcade Fire & Los Kjarkas
So here's some of the music I enjoy.
Arcade Fire Windowsill
Arcades Fire :My Body Is A Cage
& "Once Upon A Time In The West"
from:
http://jtylerhelms.com (Unofficial) - WARNING: This will potentially spoil the end of the movie if you haven't seen it - Upon listening to the new Arcade Fire album, the last song in particular evoked an intense spaghetti western scenerio in my mind. I created a music video for the song with edited clips from Sergio Leone's "Once Upon a Time in the West"... my favorite western.
hi-res version: http://jtylerhelms.com/films/bodycage...
and now for something a little different. Note the use of traditional instruments with contemporary instruments and the great orchestration involved.Not as easy as it appears - simple and complex .
Kjarkas--"LLorando se fue" en escenario
Ave de Cristal: Los Kjarkas
KALAMARKA (aguas claras)YouTube
From: Roncon1
Added: October 02, 2007
Arcade Fire Windowsill
Arcades Fire :My Body Is A Cage
& "Once Upon A Time In The West"
from:
http://jtylerhelms.com (Unofficial) - WARNING: This will potentially spoil the end of the movie if you haven't seen it - Upon listening to the new Arcade Fire album, the last song in particular evoked an intense spaghetti western scenerio in my mind. I created a music video for the song with edited clips from Sergio Leone's "Once Upon a Time in the West"... my favorite western.
hi-res version: http://jtylerhelms.com/films/bodycage...
and now for something a little different. Note the use of traditional instruments with contemporary instruments and the great orchestration involved.Not as easy as it appears - simple and complex .
Kjarkas--"LLorando se fue" en escenario
Ave de Cristal: Los Kjarkas
KALAMARKA (aguas claras)YouTube
From: Roncon1
Added: October 02, 2007
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
The Island AGreatly Under-Rated Gem of A Movie
The Island came out several years ago but I only saw it a within the last week. I'm not too sure why it didn't get good reviews or didn't get wide release.It is another sci-fi futuristic dystopian film in which clones are bred in an underground city inorder to provide replacement parts for wealthy sponsors. The clones of course don't know this and are told that the earth is contaminated but that there is an Island which they can go to and there live an idylic life but only winners of the "lottery" get to go to the Island.
It all takes place in the near future and we get a good glimpse of the futuristic city . The city where our clone escapees end up for me was quite believable. It is filled with some great chase scenes for those who like action. So part of the film has some similarities to the Matrix series but also to films such as Logan's Run and to Blade Runner or Equilibrium. But it also has a very good basic story line.Part of its charm is that the Clones we are told are non-sexual beings who are at a low mental age of between 12 to 15 or even less.Anyway I don't want to give too much away . But it is a greatly under-rated film as was Equilibrium.
The Island Trailer
Custom made trailer with some *spoilers* for the 2005 Michael Bay film THE ISLAND starring Scarlett Johansson, Ewan MacGregor, Djimon Hounsou, and Sean Bean. Edited and Scored by Teddy Blass.
www.teddyblass.com
It all takes place in the near future and we get a good glimpse of the futuristic city . The city where our clone escapees end up for me was quite believable. It is filled with some great chase scenes for those who like action. So part of the film has some similarities to the Matrix series but also to films such as Logan's Run and to Blade Runner or Equilibrium. But it also has a very good basic story line.Part of its charm is that the Clones we are told are non-sexual beings who are at a low mental age of between 12 to 15 or even less.Anyway I don't want to give too much away . But it is a greatly under-rated film as was Equilibrium.
The Island Music Vid (Ewan McGregor & Scarlett Johansson)
Fanvideo for "The Island" (spoiler alert!), centering on Lincoln & Jordan running for dear life. Starring Ewan McGregor & Scarlett Johansson. Set to "Imperial Force" by X-Ray Dog.
The Island Trailer
Custom made trailer with some *spoilers* for the 2005 Michael Bay film THE ISLAND starring Scarlett Johansson, Ewan MacGregor, Djimon Hounsou, and Sean Bean. Edited and Scored by Teddy Blass.
www.teddyblass.com
Monday, October 20, 2008
Children of Men
Yes ,I know its been awhile.
I just recently saw the film Children of Men which is a great piece of fim-making and it does have a message. I guess that's why it never received the attention it should have. People in general prefer their films to be entertaining froth and nothing more.They want movies which will tell them that their values and their perception of the world is valid and unquestionable. Most citizens do not want a film to tell them that they are selfish, narcissitic, greedy, souless creatures.
One of the issues it raises is that of immigration.
In this futuristic dystopia there is no future since no children are bein born. Is the infertility caused by pollution and how we have treated the planet & our selves. But the possible extinction of humanity just seems to bring about more inequality and more injustice. Humanity does not pull it together as it goes into decline but becomes even meaner and nastier. Immigrants in Britain are treated as if they were not persons deserving of fair treatment but are used as scapegoats and hunted down and place in over-crowded detention camps where they are being left to die. In Britain and America today there are many who would see nothing wrong with such a policy. In America there are over 12 million illegal immigrants and the solution to this complex problem is simplified by many on the right who just say hunt them down and put them in internment camps . The anti-immigration forces believe that no one who is a true patriot should have any concern over illegals who are viewed as " an infestation ", " a disease", or as if they were " cockroaches '. So the right uses all its means available to it to soften up the public to accept an inhumane and Nazi-like solution to the issue.
Children Of Men Trailer
Video below contains Spoilers & offensive language so beware.
I just recently saw the film Children of Men which is a great piece of fim-making and it does have a message. I guess that's why it never received the attention it should have. People in general prefer their films to be entertaining froth and nothing more.They want movies which will tell them that their values and their perception of the world is valid and unquestionable. Most citizens do not want a film to tell them that they are selfish, narcissitic, greedy, souless creatures.
One of the issues it raises is that of immigration.
In this futuristic dystopia there is no future since no children are bein born. Is the infertility caused by pollution and how we have treated the planet & our selves. But the possible extinction of humanity just seems to bring about more inequality and more injustice. Humanity does not pull it together as it goes into decline but becomes even meaner and nastier. Immigrants in Britain are treated as if they were not persons deserving of fair treatment but are used as scapegoats and hunted down and place in over-crowded detention camps where they are being left to die. In Britain and America today there are many who would see nothing wrong with such a policy. In America there are over 12 million illegal immigrants and the solution to this complex problem is simplified by many on the right who just say hunt them down and put them in internment camps . The anti-immigration forces believe that no one who is a true patriot should have any concern over illegals who are viewed as " an infestation ", " a disease", or as if they were " cockroaches '. So the right uses all its means available to it to soften up the public to accept an inhumane and Nazi-like solution to the issue.
Children Of Men Trailer
Video below contains Spoilers & offensive language so beware.
Why "Children of Men" should be nominated for best picture
VIDEO CONTAINS SPOILERS!
A video made to help publicize a criminally underrated masterpiece. Alfonso Cuarón's amazing dystopian vision "Children of Men" was completely ignored by Universal and dumped quietly at the box office despite glowing praise from critics. I made this short to help generate more buzz behind this overlooked masterpiece. Read press and more info about what happened from this here:
http://www.blairerickson.com/children...
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Sante Maria Iquique Massacre- A Reminder For Labor Day
Quilapayun Performing Cantata Sante Marie Iquique -
It is a composition made as a tribute to the Massacre of Nitrate mining workers in Chile December 21, 1907. The death toll has been estimated as 2,000 to 3,000 unarmed miners and their families by Federal Troops who opened fire on the crowd with machine guns.
It is a composition made as a tribute to the Massacre of Nitrate mining workers in Chile December 21, 1907. The death toll has been estimated as 2,000 to 3,000 unarmed miners and their families by Federal Troops who opened fire on the crowd with machine guns.
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Dave Mathews: All Along The Watchtower
Dave Mathews Performing Dylan's All Along The Watchtower
take care ,
GORD.
take care ,
GORD.
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
MISSING By Costas Gavras Spreading American Values One Bloody Coup At A Time
Missing Directed by Costas Gavras 1982
a film about the American backed coup in Chile 1973 ousting President Allende by General Pinochet to protect American Interests as usual. A great piece of film-making combined with stellar & realistic performances by Jack Lemmon and Sisy Spacek . It is a film that is serious and profound and deeply moving while always returning to its core of a study of humanity of the fanatical cold-warriors to the the fear, apprehension and sorrow of ordinary people. It is a film that makes one angry and sad while presenting the entire episode as surreal and baffling. For what was the great evil being committed by Allende and others that they deserved to be shot down like mad dogs or tortured and then executed . It raises the question whether Americans truly believe in the right to dissent. They claim they do . But their actions from Vietnam to Iraq , from Kent State to Gitmo & Abu Ghraib to the Media blackouts as in refusing to cover or to cover accurately and fairly anti-war demonstrations in America today suggest otherwise.
It is one of my favourite films. It is I believe a great film not just because of its politics. Gavras has done a wonderful job of turning a somewhat prosaic and political story into a heartfelt plea for sanity in a world gone mad. A world dominated by Cold War Warriors who see the world in stark black and white terms and fail to see what may be worth supporting and valuing. Democracy and freedom and capitalism and the fight against evils of Communism they see as incompatible . They therefore prop-up oppressive regimes while forgetting what supposedly differentiates American and Western values from those of Communist China and Communist Soviet Union at that time. The question is should the American and Western life styles be maintained by oppressing and even murdering the voices of change in other countries such as Chile, Argentina, Bolivia, El Salvador, Guatemala, Honduras and Nicaragua etc'
added by steve2000a
Music of Vangelis for end credits.
End Credits/Finale (Missing) Music by Vangelis
Missing is a profoundly disturbing political film based on a true story. Very little is exaggerated as the Neocons & the Religious Right and their fascist friends have claimed. Most Neocons and other twisted patriots American or Canadian believe such a film should have never been shown in theatres. They see it as a subversive anti-American and therefore anti-capitalist and anti-Christian and anti-Western film. They see nothing at all wrong with executing unarmed students, professors, scholars, musicians, artists, journalists, poets, novelists, social workers and all community activists and other so called agitators or free thinkers.
As film Missing is one of the truly great films like Citizen Kane . It is a mater piece of editing which turns what could have been a rather obvious piece of politicising or as a political biopic. Instead Gavras has turned the story into a mystery in which we are given clues along the way from Flashbacks and flashbacks within flashbacks.
The director uses some great bits of juxtapositions such as a crowd of rich people at a party singing along to the pop song my ding-a-ling as we hear gunshots and then the well to do go out on a balcony and applaud a general and soldiers who pass by on the street - possibly it is General Pinochet himself.
From: trauld at YouTube Missing by Costas Gavras 1982 (part 1 )
the rest is available at YouTube
Spreading American Values.
Missing is the story of a young America caught up in the Military Coup in Chile. General Pinochet backed by the American government and the American people and the complicity of much of the West overthrew the legally elected and popular President Allende. But even thirty five years later one will get hate e-mail just for mentioning it. America more often than not supports the anti-democratic forces in favor of friendly fascist or authoritarian regimes.
Americans prefer to drink the Kool-Aid rather than face the truth. they prefer ignorance . They rationalize this by claiming all true Americans are patriots who would not dare question their government, the CIA, the Pentagon -
Missing part 1.
This next clip is a pivotal scene at the end of the film.
After being lied to again and again by officials they finally reveal that his son was executed .
Mr. Horman Jack Lemmon sheds his old self & his view that America could do no wrong. He is a typical American who is patriotic and believes in his country.
Now he knows what those in power in America are capable. They gave the order to have his son arrested, tortured and executed because he knew too much .
Should those who order such actions be treated any better ???
Missing (part 12 ) Costas Gavras
a film about the American backed coup in Chile 1973 ousting President Allende by General Pinochet to protect American Interests as usual. A great piece of film-making combined with stellar & realistic performances by Jack Lemmon and Sisy Spacek . It is a film that is serious and profound and deeply moving while always returning to its core of a study of humanity of the fanatical cold-warriors to the the fear, apprehension and sorrow of ordinary people. It is a film that makes one angry and sad while presenting the entire episode as surreal and baffling. For what was the great evil being committed by Allende and others that they deserved to be shot down like mad dogs or tortured and then executed . It raises the question whether Americans truly believe in the right to dissent. They claim they do . But their actions from Vietnam to Iraq , from Kent State to Gitmo & Abu Ghraib to the Media blackouts as in refusing to cover or to cover accurately and fairly anti-war demonstrations in America today suggest otherwise.
It is one of my favourite films. It is I believe a great film not just because of its politics. Gavras has done a wonderful job of turning a somewhat prosaic and political story into a heartfelt plea for sanity in a world gone mad. A world dominated by Cold War Warriors who see the world in stark black and white terms and fail to see what may be worth supporting and valuing. Democracy and freedom and capitalism and the fight against evils of Communism they see as incompatible . They therefore prop-up oppressive regimes while forgetting what supposedly differentiates American and Western values from those of Communist China and Communist Soviet Union at that time. The question is should the American and Western life styles be maintained by oppressing and even murdering the voices of change in other countries such as Chile, Argentina, Bolivia, El Salvador, Guatemala, Honduras and Nicaragua etc'
added by steve2000a
Music of Vangelis for end credits.
End Credits/Finale (Missing) Music by Vangelis
Missing is a profoundly disturbing political film based on a true story. Very little is exaggerated as the Neocons & the Religious Right and their fascist friends have claimed. Most Neocons and other twisted patriots American or Canadian believe such a film should have never been shown in theatres. They see it as a subversive anti-American and therefore anti-capitalist and anti-Christian and anti-Western film. They see nothing at all wrong with executing unarmed students, professors, scholars, musicians, artists, journalists, poets, novelists, social workers and all community activists and other so called agitators or free thinkers.
As film Missing is one of the truly great films like Citizen Kane . It is a mater piece of editing which turns what could have been a rather obvious piece of politicising or as a political biopic. Instead Gavras has turned the story into a mystery in which we are given clues along the way from Flashbacks and flashbacks within flashbacks.
The director uses some great bits of juxtapositions such as a crowd of rich people at a party singing along to the pop song my ding-a-ling as we hear gunshots and then the well to do go out on a balcony and applaud a general and soldiers who pass by on the street - possibly it is General Pinochet himself.
From: trauld at YouTube Missing by Costas Gavras 1982 (part 1 )
the rest is available at YouTube
Spreading American Values.
Missing is the story of a young America caught up in the Military Coup in Chile. General Pinochet backed by the American government and the American people and the complicity of much of the West overthrew the legally elected and popular President Allende. But even thirty five years later one will get hate e-mail just for mentioning it. America more often than not supports the anti-democratic forces in favor of friendly fascist or authoritarian regimes.
Americans prefer to drink the Kool-Aid rather than face the truth. they prefer ignorance . They rationalize this by claiming all true Americans are patriots who would not dare question their government, the CIA, the Pentagon -
Missing part 1.
This next clip is a pivotal scene at the end of the film.
After being lied to again and again by officials they finally reveal that his son was executed .
Mr. Horman Jack Lemmon sheds his old self & his view that America could do no wrong. He is a typical American who is patriotic and believes in his country.
Now he knows what those in power in America are capable. They gave the order to have his son arrested, tortured and executed because he knew too much .
Should those who order such actions be treated any better ???
Missing (part 12 ) Costas Gavras
Friday, June 27, 2008
TYGER- WILLIAM BLAKE POET, ARTIST, Mystic
TYGER- William Blake
An absolutely magical short by Guilherme Marcondes of Brazil, based on a William Blake poem. Tyger blends puppetry, illustration, photography and CGI. Dreamy, mesmerizing, brilliant. Wow.
(From: alexandrianima )
or from:
kira1990shaky1990nnnTYGER YouTube
The Tyger by William Blake
Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand, dare sieze the fire?
And what shoulder, & what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? & what dread feet?
What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?
When the stars threw down their spears,
And water'd heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?
Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?
chimney sweeper william blake
chimney sweeper by william blakeas a nineteenth century english poet blake depicts the concept of child just after the industrial revolution
Auguries of Innocence- William Blake
"Man was made for Woe and Joy "
"Some are born to sweet delight
Some are born to endless night "
for more on William Blake see Poets.org/ William Blake
and William Blake Archive
Auguries of Innocence by William Blake
To see a world in a grain of sand
And a heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand
And eternity in an hour.
A robin redbreast in a cage
Puts all heaven in a rage.
A dove-house filled with doves and pigeons
Shudders hell through all its regions.
A dog starved at his master's gate
Predicts the ruin of the state.
A horse misused upon the road
Calls to heaven for human blood.
Each outcry of the hunted hare
A fibre from the brain does tear.
A skylark wounded in the wing,
A cherubim does cease to sing.
The game-cock clipped and armed for fight
Does the rising sun affright.
Every wolf's and lion's howl
Raises from hell a human soul.
The wild deer wandering here and there
Keeps the human soul from care.
The lamb misused breeds public strife,
And yet forgives the butcher's knife.
The bat that flits at close of eve
Has left the brain that won't believe.
The owl that calls upon the night
Speaks the unbeliever's fright.
He who shall hurt the little wren
Shall never be beloved by men.
He who the ox to wrath has moved
Shall never be by woman loved.
The wanton boy that kills the fly
Shall feel the spider's enmity.
He who torments the chafer's sprite
Weaves a bower in endless night.
The caterpillar on the leaf
Repeats to thee thy mother's grief.
Kill not the moth nor butterfly,
For the Last Judgment draweth nigh.
He who shall train the horse to war
Shall never pass the polar bar.
The beggar's dog and widow's cat,
Feed them, and thou wilt grow fat.
The gnat that sings his summer's song
Poison gets from Slander's tongue.
The poison of the snake and newt
Is the sweat of Envy's foot.
The poison of the honey-bee
Is the artist's jealousy.
The prince's robes and beggar's rags
Are toadstools on the miser's bags.
A truth that's told with bad intent
Beats all the lies you can invent.
It is right it should be so:
Man was made for joy and woe;
And when this we rightly know
Through the world we safely go.
Joy and woe are woven fine,
A clothing for the soul divine.
Under every grief and pine
Runs a joy with silken twine.
The babe is more than swaddling bands,
Throughout all these human lands;
Tools were made and born were hands,
Every farmer understands.
Every tear from every eye
Becomes a babe in eternity;
This is caught by females bright
And returned to its own delight.
The bleat, the bark, bellow, and roar
Are waves that beat on heaven's shore.
The babe that weeps the rod beneath
Writes Revenge! in realms of death.
The beggar's rags fluttering in air
Does to rags the heavens tear.
The soldier armed with sword and gun
Palsied strikes the summer's sun.
The poor man's farthing is worth more
Than all the gold on Afric's shore.
One mite wrung from the labourer's hands
Shall buy and sell the miser's lands,
Or if protected from on high
Does that whole nation sell and buy.
He who mocks the infant's faith
Shall be mocked in age and death.
He who shall teach the child to doubt
The rotting grave shall ne'er get out.
He who respects the infant's faith
Triumphs over hell and death.
The child's toys and the old man's reasons
Are the fruits of the two seasons.
The questioner who sits so sly
Shall never know how to reply.
He who replies to words of doubt
Doth put the light of knowledge out.
The strongest poison ever known
Came from Caesar's laurel crown.
Nought can deform the human race
Like to the armour's iron brace.
When gold and gems adorn the plough
To peaceful arts shall Envy bow.
A riddle or the cricket's cry
Is to doubt a fit reply.
The emmet's inch and eagle's mile
Make lame philosophy to smile.
He who doubts from what he sees
Will ne'er believe, do what you please.
If the sun and moon should doubt,
They'd immediately go out.
To be in a passion you good may do,
But no good if a passion is in you.
The whore and gambler, by the state
Licensed, build that nation's fate.
The harlot's cry from street to street
Shall weave old England's winding sheet.
The winner's shout, the loser's curse,
Dance before dead England's hearse.
Every night and every morn
Some to misery are born.
Every morn and every night
Some are born to sweet delight.
Some are born to sweet delight,
Some are born to endless night.
We are led to believe a lie
When we see not through the eye
Which was born in a night to perish in a night,
When the soul slept in beams of light.
God appears, and God is light
To those poor souls who dwell in night,
But does a human form display
To those who dwell in realms of day.
An absolutely magical short by Guilherme Marcondes of Brazil, based on a William Blake poem. Tyger blends puppetry, illustration, photography and CGI. Dreamy, mesmerizing, brilliant. Wow.
(From: alexandrianima )
or from:
kira1990shaky1990nnnTYGER YouTube
The Tyger by William Blake
Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand, dare sieze the fire?
And what shoulder, & what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? & what dread feet?
What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?
When the stars threw down their spears,
And water'd heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?
Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?
chimney sweeper william blake
chimney sweeper by william blakeas a nineteenth century english poet blake depicts the concept of child just after the industrial revolution
Auguries of Innocence- William Blake
"Man was made for Woe and Joy "
"Some are born to sweet delight
Some are born to endless night "
for more on William Blake see Poets.org/ William Blake
and William Blake Archive
Auguries of Innocence by William Blake
To see a world in a grain of sand
And a heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand
And eternity in an hour.
A robin redbreast in a cage
Puts all heaven in a rage.
A dove-house filled with doves and pigeons
Shudders hell through all its regions.
A dog starved at his master's gate
Predicts the ruin of the state.
A horse misused upon the road
Calls to heaven for human blood.
Each outcry of the hunted hare
A fibre from the brain does tear.
A skylark wounded in the wing,
A cherubim does cease to sing.
The game-cock clipped and armed for fight
Does the rising sun affright.
Every wolf's and lion's howl
Raises from hell a human soul.
The wild deer wandering here and there
Keeps the human soul from care.
The lamb misused breeds public strife,
And yet forgives the butcher's knife.
The bat that flits at close of eve
Has left the brain that won't believe.
The owl that calls upon the night
Speaks the unbeliever's fright.
He who shall hurt the little wren
Shall never be beloved by men.
He who the ox to wrath has moved
Shall never be by woman loved.
The wanton boy that kills the fly
Shall feel the spider's enmity.
He who torments the chafer's sprite
Weaves a bower in endless night.
The caterpillar on the leaf
Repeats to thee thy mother's grief.
Kill not the moth nor butterfly,
For the Last Judgment draweth nigh.
He who shall train the horse to war
Shall never pass the polar bar.
The beggar's dog and widow's cat,
Feed them, and thou wilt grow fat.
The gnat that sings his summer's song
Poison gets from Slander's tongue.
The poison of the snake and newt
Is the sweat of Envy's foot.
The poison of the honey-bee
Is the artist's jealousy.
The prince's robes and beggar's rags
Are toadstools on the miser's bags.
A truth that's told with bad intent
Beats all the lies you can invent.
It is right it should be so:
Man was made for joy and woe;
And when this we rightly know
Through the world we safely go.
Joy and woe are woven fine,
A clothing for the soul divine.
Under every grief and pine
Runs a joy with silken twine.
The babe is more than swaddling bands,
Throughout all these human lands;
Tools were made and born were hands,
Every farmer understands.
Every tear from every eye
Becomes a babe in eternity;
This is caught by females bright
And returned to its own delight.
The bleat, the bark, bellow, and roar
Are waves that beat on heaven's shore.
The babe that weeps the rod beneath
Writes Revenge! in realms of death.
The beggar's rags fluttering in air
Does to rags the heavens tear.
The soldier armed with sword and gun
Palsied strikes the summer's sun.
The poor man's farthing is worth more
Than all the gold on Afric's shore.
One mite wrung from the labourer's hands
Shall buy and sell the miser's lands,
Or if protected from on high
Does that whole nation sell and buy.
He who mocks the infant's faith
Shall be mocked in age and death.
He who shall teach the child to doubt
The rotting grave shall ne'er get out.
He who respects the infant's faith
Triumphs over hell and death.
The child's toys and the old man's reasons
Are the fruits of the two seasons.
The questioner who sits so sly
Shall never know how to reply.
He who replies to words of doubt
Doth put the light of knowledge out.
The strongest poison ever known
Came from Caesar's laurel crown.
Nought can deform the human race
Like to the armour's iron brace.
When gold and gems adorn the plough
To peaceful arts shall Envy bow.
A riddle or the cricket's cry
Is to doubt a fit reply.
The emmet's inch and eagle's mile
Make lame philosophy to smile.
He who doubts from what he sees
Will ne'er believe, do what you please.
If the sun and moon should doubt,
They'd immediately go out.
To be in a passion you good may do,
But no good if a passion is in you.
The whore and gambler, by the state
Licensed, build that nation's fate.
The harlot's cry from street to street
Shall weave old England's winding sheet.
The winner's shout, the loser's curse,
Dance before dead England's hearse.
Every night and every morn
Some to misery are born.
Every morn and every night
Some are born to sweet delight.
Some are born to sweet delight,
Some are born to endless night.
We are led to believe a lie
When we see not through the eye
Which was born in a night to perish in a night,
When the soul slept in beams of light.
God appears, and God is light
To those poor souls who dwell in night,
But does a human form display
To those who dwell in realms of day.
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Nick Cave revisited
Due to some technical difficulties many of the videos I have posted are not working properly. I have not determined the problem though it could be due to overload or some misunderstanding with YouTube or my server.So I will be reposting a number of videos over the next couple of weeks. I will try to add other versions or new one.
So here's a couple of my favourites from Nick Cave:
These were taken from the Video site Dailymotion.
Nick Cave : Into My Arms/ Dailymotion Videos
Recorded: 17 November 2006Location: Brazil
Nick Cave: As I Sat Sadly By Her Side
And here's Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds performing Abattoir Blues on the Jules Holland show:
So here's a couple of my favourites from Nick Cave:
These were taken from the Video site Dailymotion.
Nick Cave : Into My Arms/ Dailymotion Videos
Recorded: 17 November 2006Location: Brazil
Nick Cave: As I Sat Sadly By Her Side
And here's Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds performing Abattoir Blues on the Jules Holland show:
Saturday, June 21, 2008
Jacques Brel on Love And War
Brel If we only have love
Jacques Brel- Quand on n'a que l'amour
( If we only have love )
" If we only have love
We can melt all the guns
And then give the new world
To our daughters and sons
If we only have love
Then Jerusalem stands
And then death has no shadow
There are no foreign lands
If we only have love "
From Daily Motion Videos Belgium
Jacques Brel- Quand on n'a que l'amour
( If we only have love )
" If we only have love
We can melt all the guns
And then give the new world
To our daughters and sons
If we only have love
Then Jerusalem stands
And then death has no shadow
There are no foreign lands
If we only have love "
From Daily Motion Videos Belgium
Saturday, June 7, 2008
Thom Yorke - Black Swan / Radiohead / P. J. Harvey / The Mess We're In
Black Swan - Thom Yorke
THOM YORKE LYRICS
"Black Swan"
What will grow quickly, that you can't make straight
It's the price you gotta pay
Do yourself a favour and pack you bags
Buy a ticket and get on the train
Buy a ticket and get on the train
Cause this is fucked up, fucked up
Cause this is fucked up, fucked up
People get crushed like biscuit crumbs
And laid down in the bitumen
You have tried your best to please everyone
But it just isn't happening
No, it just isn't happening
And it's fucked up, fucked up
And this is fucked up, fucked up
This your blind spot, blind spot
It should be obvious, but it's not.
But it isn't, but it isn't
You cannot kickstart a dead horse
You just crush yourself and walk away
I don't care what the future holds
Cause I'm right here in your arms today
With your fingers you can touch me
I'm your black swan, black swan
But I made it to the top, made it to the top
This is fucked up, fucked up
You are fucked up, fucked up
This is fucked up, fucked up
Be your black swan, black swan
I'm for spare parts, broken up
Thom Yorke, Radiohead - Speed Painting by Nico Di Mattia
song Street Spirit (fade out )
February 09, 2007 Nico Di Mattia
A time lapse digital painting, in Photoshop. The real time of drawing was 4 hours.
Category: Film & Animation
RADIOHEAD LYRICS
"Street Spirit (Fade Out)"
Rows of houses, all bearing down on me
I can feel their blue hands touching me
All these things into position
All these things we'll one day swallow whole
And fade out again and fade out
This machine will, will not communicate
These thoughts and the strain I am under
Be a world child, form a circle
Before we all go under
And fade out again and fade out again
Cracked eggs, dead birds
Scream as they fight for life
I can feel death, can see its beady eyes
All these things into position
All these things we'll one day swallow whole
And fade out again and fade out again
Immerse your soul in love
IMMERSE YOUR SOUL IN LOVE
[ www.azlyrics.com ]
THOM YORKE LYRICS
"The Eraser"
Please excuse me but I got to ask
Are you only being nice
Because you want something
My fairy tale arrow pierces
Be careful how you respond
'Cause you'd not end up in this song
I never gave you an encouragement
And it's doing me in
Doing me in
Doing me in
Doing me in
The more you try to erase me
The more, the more
The more that I appear
Oh the more, the more
The more you try the eraser
The more, the more
The more that you appear
You know the answer so why do you ask
I am only being nice
Because I want someone, something
You're like a kitten with a ball of yarn
And it's doing me in
Doing me in
Doing me in
Doing me in
The more you try to erase me
The more, the more
The more that I appear
Oh the more, the more
The more I try to erase you
The more, the more
The more that you appear
No, you're wrong, you're wrong
You're wrong, you're wrong
You're wrong, you're wrong
You're wrong
[ www.azlyrics.com ]
For more on Thom Yorke see: wired Thom Yorke and David Byrne at WIRED.COM /12/18/07
also see: blog The Eraser Lyrica
Radiohead ALL I NEED video for MTV's EXIT CAMPAIGN
May 02, 2008 End Exploitation and Trafficking
MTVEXIT
RADIOHEAD LYRICS
"All I Need"
I'm the next act
Waiting in the wings
I'm an animal
Trapped in your hot car
I am all the days
That you choose to ignore
You are all I need
You are all I need
I'm in the middle of your picture
Lying in the reeds
I'm a moth
Who just wants to share your light
I'm just an insect
Trying to get out of the night
I only stick with you
Because there are no others
You are all I need
You're all I need
I'm in the middle your picture
Lying in the reeds
It's all wrong
It's all right
It's all wrong
[ www.azlyrics.com ]
This Mess We're in with Trent Parke/ P. J. Harvey & Thom Yorke
the song "this mess we're in" by pj harvey and thom yorke combined with the photographes of trent parke, from his dream/life exhibition.
P J HARVEY LYRICS
"This Mess We're In"
Can you hear them?
The helicopters?
I'm in New York
No need for words now
We sit in silence
You look me
In the eye directly
You met me
I think it's Wednesday
The evening
The mess we're in and
The city sun sets over me
Night and day
I dream of
Making-love
To you now baby
Love-making
On-screen
Impossible dream
And I have seen
The sunrise
Over the river
The freeway
Reminding
Of this mess we're in and
The city sun sets over me
What were you wanting?
I just want to say
Don't ever change now baby
And thank you
I don't think we will meet again
And you must leave now
Before the sunrise
Above skyscrapers
The sin and
This mess we're in and
The city sun sets over me
[ www.azlyrics.com ]
take care,
Gordon
THOM YORKE LYRICS
"Black Swan"
What will grow quickly, that you can't make straight
It's the price you gotta pay
Do yourself a favour and pack you bags
Buy a ticket and get on the train
Buy a ticket and get on the train
Cause this is fucked up, fucked up
Cause this is fucked up, fucked up
People get crushed like biscuit crumbs
And laid down in the bitumen
You have tried your best to please everyone
But it just isn't happening
No, it just isn't happening
And it's fucked up, fucked up
And this is fucked up, fucked up
This your blind spot, blind spot
It should be obvious, but it's not.
But it isn't, but it isn't
You cannot kickstart a dead horse
You just crush yourself and walk away
I don't care what the future holds
Cause I'm right here in your arms today
With your fingers you can touch me
I'm your black swan, black swan
But I made it to the top, made it to the top
This is fucked up, fucked up
You are fucked up, fucked up
This is fucked up, fucked up
Be your black swan, black swan
I'm for spare parts, broken up
Thom Yorke, Radiohead - Speed Painting by Nico Di Mattia
song Street Spirit (fade out )
February 09, 2007 Nico Di Mattia
A time lapse digital painting, in Photoshop. The real time of drawing was 4 hours.
Category: Film & Animation
RADIOHEAD LYRICS
"Street Spirit (Fade Out)"
Rows of houses, all bearing down on me
I can feel their blue hands touching me
All these things into position
All these things we'll one day swallow whole
And fade out again and fade out
This machine will, will not communicate
These thoughts and the strain I am under
Be a world child, form a circle
Before we all go under
And fade out again and fade out again
Cracked eggs, dead birds
Scream as they fight for life
I can feel death, can see its beady eyes
All these things into position
All these things we'll one day swallow whole
And fade out again and fade out again
Immerse your soul in love
IMMERSE YOUR SOUL IN LOVE
[ www.azlyrics.com ]
THOM YORKE LYRICS
"The Eraser"
Please excuse me but I got to ask
Are you only being nice
Because you want something
My fairy tale arrow pierces
Be careful how you respond
'Cause you'd not end up in this song
I never gave you an encouragement
And it's doing me in
Doing me in
Doing me in
Doing me in
The more you try to erase me
The more, the more
The more that I appear
Oh the more, the more
The more you try the eraser
The more, the more
The more that you appear
You know the answer so why do you ask
I am only being nice
Because I want someone, something
You're like a kitten with a ball of yarn
And it's doing me in
Doing me in
Doing me in
Doing me in
The more you try to erase me
The more, the more
The more that I appear
Oh the more, the more
The more I try to erase you
The more, the more
The more that you appear
No, you're wrong, you're wrong
You're wrong, you're wrong
You're wrong, you're wrong
You're wrong
[ www.azlyrics.com ]
For more on Thom Yorke see: wired Thom Yorke and David Byrne at WIRED.COM /12/18/07
also see: blog The Eraser Lyrica
Radiohead ALL I NEED video for MTV's EXIT CAMPAIGN
May 02, 2008 End Exploitation and Trafficking
MTVEXIT
RADIOHEAD LYRICS
"All I Need"
I'm the next act
Waiting in the wings
I'm an animal
Trapped in your hot car
I am all the days
That you choose to ignore
You are all I need
You are all I need
I'm in the middle of your picture
Lying in the reeds
I'm a moth
Who just wants to share your light
I'm just an insect
Trying to get out of the night
I only stick with you
Because there are no others
You are all I need
You're all I need
I'm in the middle your picture
Lying in the reeds
It's all wrong
It's all right
It's all wrong
[ www.azlyrics.com ]
This Mess We're in with Trent Parke/ P. J. Harvey & Thom Yorke
the song "this mess we're in" by pj harvey and thom yorke combined with the photographes of trent parke, from his dream/life exhibition.
P J HARVEY LYRICS
"This Mess We're In"
Can you hear them?
The helicopters?
I'm in New York
No need for words now
We sit in silence
You look me
In the eye directly
You met me
I think it's Wednesday
The evening
The mess we're in and
The city sun sets over me
Night and day
I dream of
Making-love
To you now baby
Love-making
On-screen
Impossible dream
And I have seen
The sunrise
Over the river
The freeway
Reminding
Of this mess we're in and
The city sun sets over me
What were you wanting?
I just want to say
Don't ever change now baby
And thank you
I don't think we will meet again
And you must leave now
Before the sunrise
Above skyscrapers
The sin and
This mess we're in and
The city sun sets over me
[ www.azlyrics.com ]
take care,
Gordon
Friday, June 6, 2008
" WAR, INC. " John Cusack's Satire on The Iraq War
WAR, INC. - John Cusack plays a hit-man for the US Goverment
WAR, INC.
WAR,INC. John Cusack meets Yonica Babyeah( Hilary Duff )WAR,INC.
Though the movie is supposed be taking place in the near future as in the day after tomorrow most of what it satirizes has to a great extent already happened. The Iraq war is the most privatized war in American history. And this is all thanks to Dick Cheney and Donald Rumsfeld and the neocons. The company with some of the biggest contracts in Iraq is Halliburton and its subsidiary KBR : Kellog , Brown & Root. These and other companies have ripped off the American government for a billion here , a billion there. Dick Cheney so happened to be the former CEO of Halliburton. Isn't this a conflict of interest.
Anyway the film is entertaining , funny, satirical, disturbing and a little too close to the truth for most Americans. So it probably not get to play as much as it should . Americans as we know can't handle the truth. They prefer the comforting propaganda of the Bush neocon Noise Machine and Echo-Chamber which helps them to sleep at night.
Film Clips removed by YouTube.
Here's an interview of John Cusack on CBC's THE HOUR with George Stroumboulopoulos
John Cusack on his passion for politics, War Inc. and working with friends in Bulgaria.
Category: Entertainment
Trailer
Hilary Duff Arrives in Emerald City
Hilary Duff :Yonica BabyYeah- I Want to Blow You Up
Saturday, April 12, 2008
Terry Jacks ' Seasons in the Sun ' English Version of Jacques Brel's Superior 'Le Moribond '
The original lyrics of the song Le Moribond by Brel in 1961 are far darker and sarcastic and a little bitter in comparison to the Rod McKeun English 1964 translation and the version made famous by Terry Jacks " Seasons in the Sun " in 1974. Though each version has its own appeal. Brel's style is chock full of images and interpretations and social criticims popular in France and Belgium at the time.
Terry Jacks version is sad and sentimental but lacks the sarcasm and bitterness and the dark humor of the original Jacques Brel song. Jacques Brel in the original also takes potshots at the clergy and others including the institution of marriage and his wife's unfaithfulness with his best friend.
Jacques Brel- Le Moribond/ The Dying Man
Jacques Brel: Le Moribond/ Dailymotion Videos
Recorded: 15 November 2007Location: France
The Dying Man
Goodbye, Emile, you were my good friend
Goodbye, Emile, you were my good friend, you know
We sang together of the same great wines
We sang together of the same great women
We sang together of our shared sorrows
Goodbye, Emile, I'm going to die
It's difficult to die in the Spring, you know
But I'm going to the flowers with peace in my heart
Because I know that you are a good man, good as white bread
You'll take care of my wife after I'm gone
(Chorus)
I want everyone to laugh
I want everyone to dance
I want everyone to party like a bunch of fools
I want everyone to laugh
I want everyone to dance
When they come to put me in my grave
Goodbye, Father Priest, I liked you well enough
Goodbye, Father Priest, I liked you well enough, you know
We weren't always on the same side
We didn't always take the same path
But we were both looking for Heaven just the same
Goodbye, Father Priest, I'm going to die
It's hard to die in the Spring, you know
But I'm going to the flowers with peace in my heart
Because you were her Confessor
I know you'll take care of my wife when I'm gone
(Chorus)
Goodbye, Tony, I didn't like you too much
Goodbye, Tony, I didn't like you too much, you know
It's killing me to be dying today
While you are so vigorous and full of life
And stronger even than boredom itself
Goodbye, Tony, I'm going to die
It's hard to die in the Spring, you know
But I'm going to the flowers with peace in my heart
Because you were her Lover
I know you'll take care of my wife when I'm gone
(Chorus)
Goodbye, my wife, I love you still
Goodbye, my wife, I love you still, you know
But I'm taking that trip to see the Good Lord today
I'm taking the trip before you do
But we all take that trip when we must
Goodbye, my wife, I'm going to die
It's hard to die in the Spring, you know
But I'm going to the flowers with my eyes closed, once more
And because I closed them so many times before
I know you'll take good care of my heart
(Chorus)
from LeMoribond@Everything2.com
compare Brel's version to Terry Jack's
Terry Jacks - Seasons in the sun
From Noel Megahey's review of Jacques Brel is Alive and Well and Living in Paris at www.dvdtimes.co.uk
and see : JACQUES BREL: THE BELGIAN POP & ROCK ARCHIVES
Mich en Scene:Songs of Jacques Brel by Micheline Van Hautem review by Michael Dwyer
Jacques Brel is Alive and Well and Living in Paris Soundtrack Lyrics
Check out version of " If You Go Away " by Shirley Basseyat YouTube
see you later,
GORD.
Terry Jacks version is sad and sentimental but lacks the sarcasm and bitterness and the dark humor of the original Jacques Brel song. Jacques Brel in the original also takes potshots at the clergy and others including the institution of marriage and his wife's unfaithfulness with his best friend.
Jacques Brel- Le Moribond/ The Dying Man
Jacques Brel: Le Moribond/ Dailymotion Videos
Recorded: 15 November 2007Location: France
The Dying Man
Goodbye, Emile, you were my good friend
Goodbye, Emile, you were my good friend, you know
We sang together of the same great wines
We sang together of the same great women
We sang together of our shared sorrows
Goodbye, Emile, I'm going to die
It's difficult to die in the Spring, you know
But I'm going to the flowers with peace in my heart
Because I know that you are a good man, good as white bread
You'll take care of my wife after I'm gone
(Chorus)
I want everyone to laugh
I want everyone to dance
I want everyone to party like a bunch of fools
I want everyone to laugh
I want everyone to dance
When they come to put me in my grave
Goodbye, Father Priest, I liked you well enough
Goodbye, Father Priest, I liked you well enough, you know
We weren't always on the same side
We didn't always take the same path
But we were both looking for Heaven just the same
Goodbye, Father Priest, I'm going to die
It's hard to die in the Spring, you know
But I'm going to the flowers with peace in my heart
Because you were her Confessor
I know you'll take care of my wife when I'm gone
(Chorus)
Goodbye, Tony, I didn't like you too much
Goodbye, Tony, I didn't like you too much, you know
It's killing me to be dying today
While you are so vigorous and full of life
And stronger even than boredom itself
Goodbye, Tony, I'm going to die
It's hard to die in the Spring, you know
But I'm going to the flowers with peace in my heart
Because you were her Lover
I know you'll take care of my wife when I'm gone
(Chorus)
Goodbye, my wife, I love you still
Goodbye, my wife, I love you still, you know
But I'm taking that trip to see the Good Lord today
I'm taking the trip before you do
But we all take that trip when we must
Goodbye, my wife, I'm going to die
It's hard to die in the Spring, you know
But I'm going to the flowers with my eyes closed, once more
And because I closed them so many times before
I know you'll take good care of my heart
(Chorus)
from LeMoribond@Everything2.com
compare Brel's version to Terry Jack's
Terry Jacks - Seasons in the sun
From Noel Megahey's review of Jacques Brel is Alive and Well and Living in Paris at www.dvdtimes.co.uk
and see : JACQUES BREL: THE BELGIAN POP & ROCK ARCHIVES
Mich en Scene:Songs of Jacques Brel by Micheline Van Hautem review by Michael Dwyer
Jacques Brel is Alive and Well and Living in Paris Soundtrack Lyrics
Check out version of " If You Go Away " by Shirley Basseyat YouTube
see you later,
GORD.
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
Keith Wigdor' Surrealist Website
" my abs " by Fatima Azimova
" Take Me To The City " by Fatima Azimova
" La Cabeza " by Alicia Maria De La Camp
" Hondoes Dolores" by Alicia Maria De Lacamp
"Conversacion" by Alicia Maria de la Camp
" The Demon Mother " By Carrie Ann Baad
"THE RED QUEEN "By Carrie Ann Baad
"Cupid Complaining to Venus " By Carrie Ann BaadThe above works of art were found at the fairly new Keith Wigdor Presents Surrealism Now!
The website's purpose is to showcase works of art which are Surrealist or the Fantastic and the Imaginative.
If your interested take a peak.
Other sites of interest:
Virtual Museum Of Art
SURREALISM VIRTUAL Gallery
ARTCYCLOPEDIA
Robin Urton Eyecon Art
Take care,
Gord.
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Garcia Lorca :Lament for Ignacio Sanchez Mejias
Garcia Lorca
Federico Garcia Lorca (1898-1936) is considered Spain's greatest poet and dramatist of the 20th century, and the most famous victim of its civil war. Lorca was assassinated on the orders of the fascist dictator Franco . Lorca's approach to poetry combined traditional and modern forms and ideas. His struggle with his identity and the modern world permeates his work, and finds its most critically admired expression in Poet in New York.
IMAGE Posted by Picasa
Anyway I just wanted to share a few verses by the poet Garcia Lorca & a tid bit or two about his life & work & his death .
Federico Garcia Lorca Writer Poet Artist
Martyr of the Spanish Civil War
1898 - 1936
http://www.geocities.com/
"Federico Garcia Lorca was one of the great Spanish writers and artists of the 20th Century. In his short lifetime he produced a wide variety of novels, short stories, poetry as well as paintings,drawings and even musical compositions.
He influenced such politically disparate artists as the poet Neruda and the painter Dali.
On August 19, 1936, at the age of 38, Lorca was beaten to death by Franco's falangists along with several other 'disappeared' political opponents of Franco.
While his homosexuality was known even then, his fascist assassins used this to make his assassination look like a bit of 'rough trade' gone wrong,(see Why Lorca Was Murdered) the real reason for his death was his outspoken defense of the Republic and his criticisms of monarchism, Catholicism and Fascism. "
And from MEMOIRS by Pablo Neruda ( 1904-1973 )Chilean poet & friend of Garcia Lorca :
“ Federico Garcia Lorca was not merely shot; he was assassinated. It would never have crossed anyone’s mind that they would kill him one day. He was the most loved, the most cherished, of all Spanish poets, and he was the closest to being a child, because of his marvelous happy temperament. Who could have believed there were monster on this earth, in his own Granada, capable of such an inconceivable crime? “ P. 125
Anyway here is one of Lorca's poems which I wish to share...
Federico Garcia Lorca
Lament for Ignacio Sanchez Mejias
1. Cogida and death
At five in the afternoon.
It was exactly five in the afternoon.
A boy brought the white sheet
at five in the afternoon.
A frail of lime ready prepared
at five in the afternoon.
The rest was death, and death alone.
The wind carried away the cottonwool
at five in the afternoon.
And the oxide scattered crystal and nickel
at five in the afternoon.
Now the dove and the leopard wrestle
at five in the afternoon.
And a thigh with a desolated horn
at five in the afternoon.
The bass-string struck up
at five in the afternoon.
Arsenic bells and smoke
at five in the afternoon.
Groups of silence in the corners
at five in the afternoon.
And the bull alone with a high heart!
At five in the afternoon.
When the sweat of snow was coming
at five in the afternoon,
when the bull ring was covered with iodine
at five in the afternoon.
Death laid eggs in the wound
at five in the afternoon.
At five in the afternoon.
At five o'clock in the afternoon.
A coffin on wheels is his bed
at five in the afternoon.
Bones and flutes resound in his ears
at five in the afternoon.
Now the bull was bellowing through his forehead
at five in the afternoon.
The room was iridescent with agony
at five in the afternoon.
In the distance the gangrene now comes
at five in the afternoon.
Horn of the lily through green groins
at five in the afternoon.
The wounds were burning like suns
at five in the afternoon.
At five in the afternoon.
Ah, that fatal five in the afternoon!
It was five by all the clocks!
It was five in the shade of the afternoon!
2. The Spilled Blood
I will not see it!
Tell the moon to come,
for I do not want to see the blood
of Ignacio on the sand.
I will not see it!
The moon wide open.
Horse of still clouds,
and the grey bull ring of dreams
with willows in the barreras.
I will not see it!
Let my memory kindle!
Warm the jasmines
of such minute whiteness!
I will not see it!
The cow of the ancient world
passed had sad tongue
over a snout of blood
spilled on the sand,
and the bulls of Guisando,
partly death and partly stone,
bellowed like two centuries
sated with threading the earth.
No.
I will not see it!
Ignacio goes up the tiers
with all his death on his shoulders.
He sought for the dawn
but the dawn was no more.
He seeks for his confident profile
and the dream bewilders him
He sought for his beautiful body
and encountered his opened blood
Do not ask me to see it!
I do not want to hear it spurt
each time with less strength:
that spurt that illuminates
the tiers of seats, and spills
over the corduroy and the leather
of a thirsty multitude.
Who shouts that I should come near!
Do not ask me to see it!
His eyes did not close
when he saw the horns near,
but the terrible mothers
lifted their heads.
And across the ranches,
an air of secret voices rose,
shouting to celestial bulls,
herdsmen of pale mist.
There was no prince in Sevilla
who could compare to him,
nor sword like his sword
nor heart so true.
Like a river of lions
was his marvelous strength,
and like a marble torso
his firm drawn moderation.
The air of Andalusian Rome
gilded his head
where his smile was a spikenard
of wit and intelligence.
What a great torero in the ring!
What a good peasant in the sierra!
How gentle with the sheaves!
How hard with the spurs!
How tender with the dew!
How dazzling the fiesta!
How tremendous with the final
banderillas of darkness!
But now he sleeps without end.
Now the moss and the grass
open with sure fingers
the flower of his skull.
And now his blood comes out singing;
singing along marshes and meadows,
slides on frozen horns,
faltering soulless in the mist
stumbling over a thousand hoofs
like a long, dark, sad tongue,
to form a pool of agony
close to the starry Guadalquivir.
Oh, white wall of Spain!
Oh, black bull of sorrow!
Oh, hard blood of Ignacio!
Oh, nightingale of his veins!
No.
I will not see it!
No chalice can contain it,
no swallows can drink it,
no frost of light can cool it,
nor song nor deluge of white lilies,
no glass can cover it with silver.
No.
I will not see it!
3. The Laid Out Body
Stone is a forehead where dreams grieve
without curving waters and frozen cypresses.
Stone is a shoulder on which to bear Time
with trees formed of tears and ribbons and planets.
I have seen grey showers move towards the waves
raising their tender riddle arms,
to avoid being caught by lying stone
which loosens their limbs without soaking their blood.
For stone gathers seed and clouds,
skeleton larks and wolves of penumbra:
but yields not sounds nor crystals nor fire,
only bull rings and bull rings and more bull rings without walls.
Now, Ignacio the well born lies on the stone.
All is finished. What is happening! Contemplate his face:
death has covered him with pale sulphur
and has place on him the head of dark Minotaur.
All is finished. The rain penetrates his mouth.
The air, as if mad, leaves his sunken chest,
and Love, soaked through with tears of snow,
warms itself on the peak of the herd.
What are they saying? A stenching ( stinking?) silence settles down.
We are here with a body laid out which fades away,
with a pure shape which had nightingales
and we see it being filled with depth less holes.
Who creases the shroud? What he says is not true!
Nobody sings here, nobody weeps in the corner,
nobody pricks the spurs, nor terrifies the serpent.
Here I want nothing else but the round eyes
to see his body without a chance of rest.
Here I want to see those men of hard voice.
Those that break horses and dominate rivers;
those men of sonorous skeleton who sing
with a mouth full of sun and flint.
Here I want to see them. Before the stone.
Before this body with broken reins.
I want to know from them the way out
for this captain stripped down by death.
I want them to show me a lament like a river
which will have sweet mists and deep shores,
to take the body of Ignacio where it looses itself
without hearing the double planting of the bulls.
Loses itself in the round bull ring of the moon
which feigns in its youth a sad quiet bull,
loses itself in the night without song of fishes
and in the white thicket of frozen smoke.
I don't want to cover his face with handkerchiefs
that he may get used to the death he carries.
Go, Ignacio, feel not the hot bellowing
Sleep, fly, rest: even the sea dies!
4. Absent Soul
The bull does not know you, nor the fig tree,
nor the horses, nor the ants in your own house.
The child and the afternoon do not know you
because you have dead forever.
The shoulder of the stone does not know you
nor the black silk, where you are shuttered.
Your silent memory does not know you
because you have died forever
The autumn will come with small white snails,
misty grapes and clustered hills,
but no one will look into your eyes
because you have died forever.
Because you have died for ever,
like all the dead of the earth,
like all the dead who are forgotten
in a heap of lifeless dogs.
Nobody knows you. No. But I sing of you.
For posterity I sing of your profile and grace.
Of the signal maturity of your understanding.
Of your appetite for death and the taste of its mouth.
Of the sadness of your once valiant gaiety.
It will be a long time, if ever, before there is born
an Andalusian so true, so rich in adventure.
I sing of his elegance with words that groan,
and I remember a sad breeze through the olive trees.
Websites of note :
Ben Harnett,s Home Page / Garcia Lorca
Garcia Lorca
Cyberspain Spain/ Federico Garcia Lorca
Federico Garcia Lorca/Martyr of the Spanish Civil War
SPANISH/Hispanic LITERATURE
POETS.ORG
from the Academy of American Poets
Abe.Books.com/Lorca
Famous Poets & Poems/ 34 Lorca’s poems in translation
Federico Garcia Lorca
see you later,
GORD.
Federico Garcia Lorca (1898-1936) is considered Spain's greatest poet and dramatist of the 20th century, and the most famous victim of its civil war. Lorca was assassinated on the orders of the fascist dictator Franco . Lorca's approach to poetry combined traditional and modern forms and ideas. His struggle with his identity and the modern world permeates his work, and finds its most critically admired expression in Poet in New York.
IMAGE Posted by Picasa
Anyway I just wanted to share a few verses by the poet Garcia Lorca & a tid bit or two about his life & work & his death .
Federico Garcia Lorca Writer Poet Artist
Martyr of the Spanish Civil War
1898 - 1936
http://www.geocities.com/
"Federico Garcia Lorca was one of the great Spanish writers and artists of the 20th Century. In his short lifetime he produced a wide variety of novels, short stories, poetry as well as paintings,drawings and even musical compositions.
He influenced such politically disparate artists as the poet Neruda and the painter Dali.
On August 19, 1936, at the age of 38, Lorca was beaten to death by Franco's falangists along with several other 'disappeared' political opponents of Franco.
While his homosexuality was known even then, his fascist assassins used this to make his assassination look like a bit of 'rough trade' gone wrong,(see Why Lorca Was Murdered) the real reason for his death was his outspoken defense of the Republic and his criticisms of monarchism, Catholicism and Fascism. "
And from MEMOIRS by Pablo Neruda ( 1904-1973 )Chilean poet & friend of Garcia Lorca :
“ Federico Garcia Lorca was not merely shot; he was assassinated. It would never have crossed anyone’s mind that they would kill him one day. He was the most loved, the most cherished, of all Spanish poets, and he was the closest to being a child, because of his marvelous happy temperament. Who could have believed there were monster on this earth, in his own Granada, capable of such an inconceivable crime? “ P. 125
Anyway here is one of Lorca's poems which I wish to share...
Federico Garcia Lorca
Lament for Ignacio Sanchez Mejias
1. Cogida and death
At five in the afternoon.
It was exactly five in the afternoon.
A boy brought the white sheet
at five in the afternoon.
A frail of lime ready prepared
at five in the afternoon.
The rest was death, and death alone.
The wind carried away the cottonwool
at five in the afternoon.
And the oxide scattered crystal and nickel
at five in the afternoon.
Now the dove and the leopard wrestle
at five in the afternoon.
And a thigh with a desolated horn
at five in the afternoon.
The bass-string struck up
at five in the afternoon.
Arsenic bells and smoke
at five in the afternoon.
Groups of silence in the corners
at five in the afternoon.
And the bull alone with a high heart!
At five in the afternoon.
When the sweat of snow was coming
at five in the afternoon,
when the bull ring was covered with iodine
at five in the afternoon.
Death laid eggs in the wound
at five in the afternoon.
At five in the afternoon.
At five o'clock in the afternoon.
A coffin on wheels is his bed
at five in the afternoon.
Bones and flutes resound in his ears
at five in the afternoon.
Now the bull was bellowing through his forehead
at five in the afternoon.
The room was iridescent with agony
at five in the afternoon.
In the distance the gangrene now comes
at five in the afternoon.
Horn of the lily through green groins
at five in the afternoon.
The wounds were burning like suns
at five in the afternoon.
At five in the afternoon.
Ah, that fatal five in the afternoon!
It was five by all the clocks!
It was five in the shade of the afternoon!
2. The Spilled Blood
I will not see it!
Tell the moon to come,
for I do not want to see the blood
of Ignacio on the sand.
I will not see it!
The moon wide open.
Horse of still clouds,
and the grey bull ring of dreams
with willows in the barreras.
I will not see it!
Let my memory kindle!
Warm the jasmines
of such minute whiteness!
I will not see it!
The cow of the ancient world
passed had sad tongue
over a snout of blood
spilled on the sand,
and the bulls of Guisando,
partly death and partly stone,
bellowed like two centuries
sated with threading the earth.
No.
I will not see it!
Ignacio goes up the tiers
with all his death on his shoulders.
He sought for the dawn
but the dawn was no more.
He seeks for his confident profile
and the dream bewilders him
He sought for his beautiful body
and encountered his opened blood
Do not ask me to see it!
I do not want to hear it spurt
each time with less strength:
that spurt that illuminates
the tiers of seats, and spills
over the corduroy and the leather
of a thirsty multitude.
Who shouts that I should come near!
Do not ask me to see it!
His eyes did not close
when he saw the horns near,
but the terrible mothers
lifted their heads.
And across the ranches,
an air of secret voices rose,
shouting to celestial bulls,
herdsmen of pale mist.
There was no prince in Sevilla
who could compare to him,
nor sword like his sword
nor heart so true.
Like a river of lions
was his marvelous strength,
and like a marble torso
his firm drawn moderation.
The air of Andalusian Rome
gilded his head
where his smile was a spikenard
of wit and intelligence.
What a great torero in the ring!
What a good peasant in the sierra!
How gentle with the sheaves!
How hard with the spurs!
How tender with the dew!
How dazzling the fiesta!
How tremendous with the final
banderillas of darkness!
But now he sleeps without end.
Now the moss and the grass
open with sure fingers
the flower of his skull.
And now his blood comes out singing;
singing along marshes and meadows,
slides on frozen horns,
faltering soulless in the mist
stumbling over a thousand hoofs
like a long, dark, sad tongue,
to form a pool of agony
close to the starry Guadalquivir.
Oh, white wall of Spain!
Oh, black bull of sorrow!
Oh, hard blood of Ignacio!
Oh, nightingale of his veins!
No.
I will not see it!
No chalice can contain it,
no swallows can drink it,
no frost of light can cool it,
nor song nor deluge of white lilies,
no glass can cover it with silver.
No.
I will not see it!
3. The Laid Out Body
Stone is a forehead where dreams grieve
without curving waters and frozen cypresses.
Stone is a shoulder on which to bear Time
with trees formed of tears and ribbons and planets.
I have seen grey showers move towards the waves
raising their tender riddle arms,
to avoid being caught by lying stone
which loosens their limbs without soaking their blood.
For stone gathers seed and clouds,
skeleton larks and wolves of penumbra:
but yields not sounds nor crystals nor fire,
only bull rings and bull rings and more bull rings without walls.
Now, Ignacio the well born lies on the stone.
All is finished. What is happening! Contemplate his face:
death has covered him with pale sulphur
and has place on him the head of dark Minotaur.
All is finished. The rain penetrates his mouth.
The air, as if mad, leaves his sunken chest,
and Love, soaked through with tears of snow,
warms itself on the peak of the herd.
What are they saying? A stenching ( stinking?) silence settles down.
We are here with a body laid out which fades away,
with a pure shape which had nightingales
and we see it being filled with depth less holes.
Who creases the shroud? What he says is not true!
Nobody sings here, nobody weeps in the corner,
nobody pricks the spurs, nor terrifies the serpent.
Here I want nothing else but the round eyes
to see his body without a chance of rest.
Here I want to see those men of hard voice.
Those that break horses and dominate rivers;
those men of sonorous skeleton who sing
with a mouth full of sun and flint.
Here I want to see them. Before the stone.
Before this body with broken reins.
I want to know from them the way out
for this captain stripped down by death.
I want them to show me a lament like a river
which will have sweet mists and deep shores,
to take the body of Ignacio where it looses itself
without hearing the double planting of the bulls.
Loses itself in the round bull ring of the moon
which feigns in its youth a sad quiet bull,
loses itself in the night without song of fishes
and in the white thicket of frozen smoke.
I don't want to cover his face with handkerchiefs
that he may get used to the death he carries.
Go, Ignacio, feel not the hot bellowing
Sleep, fly, rest: even the sea dies!
4. Absent Soul
The bull does not know you, nor the fig tree,
nor the horses, nor the ants in your own house.
The child and the afternoon do not know you
because you have dead forever.
The shoulder of the stone does not know you
nor the black silk, where you are shuttered.
Your silent memory does not know you
because you have died forever
The autumn will come with small white snails,
misty grapes and clustered hills,
but no one will look into your eyes
because you have died forever.
Because you have died for ever,
like all the dead of the earth,
like all the dead who are forgotten
in a heap of lifeless dogs.
Nobody knows you. No. But I sing of you.
For posterity I sing of your profile and grace.
Of the signal maturity of your understanding.
Of your appetite for death and the taste of its mouth.
Of the sadness of your once valiant gaiety.
It will be a long time, if ever, before there is born
an Andalusian so true, so rich in adventure.
I sing of his elegance with words that groan,
and I remember a sad breeze through the olive trees.
Websites of note :
Ben Harnett,s Home Page / Garcia Lorca
Garcia Lorca
Cyberspain Spain/ Federico Garcia Lorca
Federico Garcia Lorca/Martyr of the Spanish Civil War
SPANISH/Hispanic LITERATURE
POETS.ORG
from the Academy of American Poets
Abe.Books.com/Lorca
Famous Poets & Poems/ 34 Lorca’s poems in translation
Federico Garcia Lorca
see you later,
GORD.
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
Pablo Neruda ( 1904- 1973 ) : Poet & Activist " I'LL EXPLAIN SOME THINGS "
First a poem by Pablo Neruda :
Pablo Neruda
Ode to the Book
translated by Nathaniel Tarn
When I close a book
I open life.
I hear
faltering cries
among harbours.
Copper ignots
slide down sand-pits
to Tocopilla.
Night time.
Among the islands
our ocean
throbs with fish,
touches the feet, the thighs,
the chalk ribs
of my country.
The whole of night
clings to its shores, by dawn
it wakes up singing
as if it had excited a guitar.
The ocean's surge is calling.
The wind
calls me
and Rodriguez calls,
and Jose Antonio--
I got a telegram
from the "Mine" Union
and the one I love
(whose name I won't let out)
expects me in Bucalemu.
No book has been able
to wrap me in paper,
to fill me up
with typography,
with heavenly imprints
or was ever able
to bind my eyes,
I come out of books to people orchards
with the hoarse family of my song,
to work the burning metals
or to eat smoked beef
by mountain firesides.
I love adventurous
books,
books of forest or snow,
depth or sky
but hate
the spider book
in which thought
has laid poisonous wires
to trap the juvenile
and circling fly.
Book, let me go.
I won't go clothed
in volumes,
I don't come out
of collected works,
my poems
have not eaten poems--
they devour
exciting happenings,
feed on rough weather,
and dig their food
out of earth and men.
I'm on my way
with dust in my shoes
free of mythology:
send books back to their shelves,
I'm going down into the streets.
I learned about life
from life itself,
love I learned in a single kiss
and could teach no one anything
except that I have lived
with something in common among men,
when fighting with them,
when saying all their say in my song.
Most people in our society have lost the ability it seems to EMPATHIZE with others especially if they are different from them in some way ie. color, race, language, culture or religion . Only our group actually feels all those others are incapable of being sensitive or care about life as we do since they are all brutes mere animals in comparison to ourselves - this is racism & Xenophobia at its worst .
It is not just those who commit these acts in our name & those who give the orders & set the policies but all who stand by & do nothing are also guilty & so we all STAND ACCUSED . It is not just George Bush & his fanatical Neocons who are guilty but all those politicians, bureaucrats & organizations & individual citizens who have stood back & did nothing to stop the carnage & madness that has now engulfed Iraq & Afghanistan & Palestine & Lebanon & whatever countries are next on our " HIT LIST " -
Unfortunately too many people in our society put far too much trust in our leaders & our Secret Police & the military personnel who claim “ WE WERE JUST FOLLOWING ORDERS ”-
Pablo Neruda
From Wikipedia,
Neruda recording poems at the U.S. Library of Congress in 1966
Pablo Neruda (July 12, 1904 – September 23, 1973) was the pen name of the Chilean writer and communist politician Ricardo Eliecer Neftalí Reyes Basoalto.
Having his works translated into dozens of languages, Pablo Neruda is considered one of the greatest and most influential poets of the 20th century. Critic and biographer Alistar Reid has stated that Neruda is the most widely read poet since William Shakespeare.
Neruda was accomplished in a wide variety of styles, ranging from erotically charged love poems, surrealist poems, historical epics, and overtly political manifestos. Some of Neruda's most beloved poems are his "Odes to Common Things," collected in several volumes. Colombian novelist Gabriel García Márquez has called him "the greatest poet of the 20th century in any language". In 1971, Neruda was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature after several years of being overlooked for his political activism.
During his lifetime, Neruda occupied many diplomatic posts and served a stint as senator for the Chilean Communist Party. When Conservative Chilean President Videla outlawed communism in Chile, a warrant was issued for Neruda's arrest. Friends hid him for months in a basement of a home in the Chilean port of Valparaiso. Neruda then escaped into exile through a mountain pass into Argentina.
Years later, Neruda was a close collaborator to Socialist President Salvador Allende. Upon returning to Chile after his Nobel Prize acceptance speech, Allende invited Neruda to read at the Chilean national soccer stadium before 70,000 people, the largest poetry reading in recorded history.
Pablo Neruda, hospitalized with cancer at the time of the Chilean coup d'état led by Augusto Pinochet, died of heart failure twelve days later. Already a legend in life, Neruda's death became charged with an intense symbolism that reverberated around the world. Pinochet had denied permission to transform Neruda's funeral into a public event, but thousands of grieving Chileans disobeyed the curfew, flooding the streets in tribute. Neruda's funeral became the first public protest against the Chilean military dictatorship.
And from website:
Blues For Peace
And they shall beat their swords into Guitars...
http://www.bluesforpeace.com/
“ In 1933, Neruda published Residence on Earth which was a literary breakthrough. The two parts of Residence on Earth contain his poetry from 1925 to 1935. They show Neruda at his most surrealistic. Neruda used obscure and violent imagery to convey a sense of universal chaos.
The murder of Garcia Lorca, who Neruda knew, effected him strongly and he joined the republican movement in Spain. Because of his political views, and the danger of civil-war torn Spain, he left in 1937 to return to Chile. In 1939, he was appointed consul of Spanish emigration and moved to Paris and then Mexico. During this time he wrote Canto de Chile and Canto General which was an epic about the South American continent. It was published in Mexico and underground in Chile. It was hard living abroad and by 1943 he returned to Chile. In 1945 he was elected senator and joined the communist party. He protested President Gonzales Videla’s oppressive policy against the striking miner’s union and had to live underground for two years until he was able to leave in 1949. Returning to Europe he was only able to return in 1952. Because of these experiences, he honed his message and published work closely related to his experiences. During this time he also won the Stalin prize and Lenin Peace Prize. ”
PAINTING " WAR " BY EILEEN AGAR RA (1899-1991) BRITISH SURREALIST
IMAGE Posted by Picasa
“ Poetry is an act of peace. Peace goes into the making of a poet as flour goes into the making of bread.
Arsonists, warmongers, wolves hunt down the poet to burn, kill, sink their teeth into him. A swordsman left Pushkin mortally wounded under the trees in a dark and gloomy park. The fiery horse of war charged over Petofi’s lifeless body. Byron died in Greece , fighting against war. The Spanish Fascists started off the war in Spain by assassinating its greatest poet. ( Garcia Lorca )
But poetry has not died, it has a cat’s nine lives. They harass it, they drag it through the streets, they spit on it and make it the butt of their jokes, they try to strangle it, drive it into exile, throw it into prison, pump lead into it, and it survives every attempt with a clear face and a smile as bright as grains of rice. ”
PABLO NERUDA ( 1904-1973 )
from MEMOIRS
Translator Hardie St. Martin pub. 1977
PABLO NERUDA RECORDING POEMS AT U.S. LIBRARY OF CONGRESS
I'll Explain some Things
PABLO NERUDA
You’ll ask, Where are the lilacs?
And the philosophy dreamy with poppies?
And the rain which kept beating out
Your words, filling them
With water-specks and birds?
I’m going to tell you everything that happened to me.
I lived in a neighborhood
In Madrid with church bells
And clock towers and trees.
From there you could see
The dry face of Castille
Like a sea of leather
My house was called
“The house with the flowers” because around it
Geraniums exploded. It was
A beautiful house
With dogs and kids.
Raúl, do you remember?
Federico, do you still remember
Under the ground?
Do you remember my house with the balconies
Where the June light soaked your mouth with
The taste of flowers?
Brother! Brother!
The market place of Arguelles, my neighborhood
With its statue like a pale inkwell among
The fish stalls.
It was all
Loud voices, salty commerce,
A deep rumble
Of feet and hands filled the streets,
Meters and liters,
The sharp essence of life,
Fish stacked up,
The texture of roofs in the cold sun in which
The weather-vane grows tired.
Fine, crazily carved ivory of potatoes
Lines of tomatoes to the sea.
Then one morning flames
Came out of the ground
Devouring human beings.
From then on fire,
Gunpowder from then on,
From then on blood.
Bandits with airplanes and Moorish troops
Bandits with gold rings and duchesses
Bandits with black monks giving their blessing
Came across the sky to kill children
And through the streets, the blood of children
Ran simply, like children’s blood does.
Jackals that a jackal would reject
Stones that a dry thistle would bite and spit out
Vipers that vipers would hate!
I have seen the blood
Of Spain rise up against you
To drown you in a single wave
Of pride and knives!
Generals
Traitors
Look at my dead home
Look at broken Spain –
But from each dead house
Burning metal shoots out
Instead of flowers.
From every shell-hole in Spain
Spain will rise.
From every dead child a rifle with
Eyes will rise.
From every crime bullets will be born
Which will one day find a place
In your hearts.
You ask “Why doesn’t your poetry
Speak to us of dreams and leaves
Of the great volcanoes of your native land?”
Come
See the blood along the streets
Come see
The blood along the streets
Come see the blood
Along the Streets!
Here are some websites to check out for more on Pablo Neruda
Pablo Neruda at Culture Cafe: Lone Star Internet
Poet Seers
Pablo Neruda Nobel Prize in Literature 1971 Bio
Pablo Neruda Wikipedia
Pablo Neruda at PoemHunter.com
Pablo Neruda Page
so see you later,
GORD.
Pablo Neruda
Ode to the Book
translated by Nathaniel Tarn
When I close a book
I open life.
I hear
faltering cries
among harbours.
Copper ignots
slide down sand-pits
to Tocopilla.
Night time.
Among the islands
our ocean
throbs with fish,
touches the feet, the thighs,
the chalk ribs
of my country.
The whole of night
clings to its shores, by dawn
it wakes up singing
as if it had excited a guitar.
The ocean's surge is calling.
The wind
calls me
and Rodriguez calls,
and Jose Antonio--
I got a telegram
from the "Mine" Union
and the one I love
(whose name I won't let out)
expects me in Bucalemu.
No book has been able
to wrap me in paper,
to fill me up
with typography,
with heavenly imprints
or was ever able
to bind my eyes,
I come out of books to people orchards
with the hoarse family of my song,
to work the burning metals
or to eat smoked beef
by mountain firesides.
I love adventurous
books,
books of forest or snow,
depth or sky
but hate
the spider book
in which thought
has laid poisonous wires
to trap the juvenile
and circling fly.
Book, let me go.
I won't go clothed
in volumes,
I don't come out
of collected works,
my poems
have not eaten poems--
they devour
exciting happenings,
feed on rough weather,
and dig their food
out of earth and men.
I'm on my way
with dust in my shoes
free of mythology:
send books back to their shelves,
I'm going down into the streets.
I learned about life
from life itself,
love I learned in a single kiss
and could teach no one anything
except that I have lived
with something in common among men,
when fighting with them,
when saying all their say in my song.
Most people in our society have lost the ability it seems to EMPATHIZE with others especially if they are different from them in some way ie. color, race, language, culture or religion . Only our group actually feels all those others are incapable of being sensitive or care about life as we do since they are all brutes mere animals in comparison to ourselves - this is racism & Xenophobia at its worst .
It is not just those who commit these acts in our name & those who give the orders & set the policies but all who stand by & do nothing are also guilty & so we all STAND ACCUSED . It is not just George Bush & his fanatical Neocons who are guilty but all those politicians, bureaucrats & organizations & individual citizens who have stood back & did nothing to stop the carnage & madness that has now engulfed Iraq & Afghanistan & Palestine & Lebanon & whatever countries are next on our " HIT LIST " -
Unfortunately too many people in our society put far too much trust in our leaders & our Secret Police & the military personnel who claim “ WE WERE JUST FOLLOWING ORDERS ”-
Pablo Neruda
From Wikipedia,
Neruda recording poems at the U.S. Library of Congress in 1966
Pablo Neruda (July 12, 1904 – September 23, 1973) was the pen name of the Chilean writer and communist politician Ricardo Eliecer Neftalí Reyes Basoalto.
Having his works translated into dozens of languages, Pablo Neruda is considered one of the greatest and most influential poets of the 20th century. Critic and biographer Alistar Reid has stated that Neruda is the most widely read poet since William Shakespeare.
Neruda was accomplished in a wide variety of styles, ranging from erotically charged love poems, surrealist poems, historical epics, and overtly political manifestos. Some of Neruda's most beloved poems are his "Odes to Common Things," collected in several volumes. Colombian novelist Gabriel García Márquez has called him "the greatest poet of the 20th century in any language". In 1971, Neruda was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature after several years of being overlooked for his political activism.
During his lifetime, Neruda occupied many diplomatic posts and served a stint as senator for the Chilean Communist Party. When Conservative Chilean President Videla outlawed communism in Chile, a warrant was issued for Neruda's arrest. Friends hid him for months in a basement of a home in the Chilean port of Valparaiso. Neruda then escaped into exile through a mountain pass into Argentina.
Years later, Neruda was a close collaborator to Socialist President Salvador Allende. Upon returning to Chile after his Nobel Prize acceptance speech, Allende invited Neruda to read at the Chilean national soccer stadium before 70,000 people, the largest poetry reading in recorded history.
Pablo Neruda, hospitalized with cancer at the time of the Chilean coup d'état led by Augusto Pinochet, died of heart failure twelve days later. Already a legend in life, Neruda's death became charged with an intense symbolism that reverberated around the world. Pinochet had denied permission to transform Neruda's funeral into a public event, but thousands of grieving Chileans disobeyed the curfew, flooding the streets in tribute. Neruda's funeral became the first public protest against the Chilean military dictatorship.
And from website:
Blues For Peace
And they shall beat their swords into Guitars...
http://www.bluesforpeace.com/
“ In 1933, Neruda published Residence on Earth which was a literary breakthrough. The two parts of Residence on Earth contain his poetry from 1925 to 1935. They show Neruda at his most surrealistic. Neruda used obscure and violent imagery to convey a sense of universal chaos.
The murder of Garcia Lorca, who Neruda knew, effected him strongly and he joined the republican movement in Spain. Because of his political views, and the danger of civil-war torn Spain, he left in 1937 to return to Chile. In 1939, he was appointed consul of Spanish emigration and moved to Paris and then Mexico. During this time he wrote Canto de Chile and Canto General which was an epic about the South American continent. It was published in Mexico and underground in Chile. It was hard living abroad and by 1943 he returned to Chile. In 1945 he was elected senator and joined the communist party. He protested President Gonzales Videla’s oppressive policy against the striking miner’s union and had to live underground for two years until he was able to leave in 1949. Returning to Europe he was only able to return in 1952. Because of these experiences, he honed his message and published work closely related to his experiences. During this time he also won the Stalin prize and Lenin Peace Prize. ”
PAINTING " WAR " BY EILEEN AGAR RA (1899-1991) BRITISH SURREALIST
IMAGE Posted by Picasa
“ Poetry is an act of peace. Peace goes into the making of a poet as flour goes into the making of bread.
Arsonists, warmongers, wolves hunt down the poet to burn, kill, sink their teeth into him. A swordsman left Pushkin mortally wounded under the trees in a dark and gloomy park. The fiery horse of war charged over Petofi’s lifeless body. Byron died in Greece , fighting against war. The Spanish Fascists started off the war in Spain by assassinating its greatest poet. ( Garcia Lorca )
But poetry has not died, it has a cat’s nine lives. They harass it, they drag it through the streets, they spit on it and make it the butt of their jokes, they try to strangle it, drive it into exile, throw it into prison, pump lead into it, and it survives every attempt with a clear face and a smile as bright as grains of rice. ”
PABLO NERUDA ( 1904-1973 )
from MEMOIRS
Translator Hardie St. Martin pub. 1977
PABLO NERUDA RECORDING POEMS AT U.S. LIBRARY OF CONGRESS
I'll Explain some Things
PABLO NERUDA
You’ll ask, Where are the lilacs?
And the philosophy dreamy with poppies?
And the rain which kept beating out
Your words, filling them
With water-specks and birds?
I’m going to tell you everything that happened to me.
I lived in a neighborhood
In Madrid with church bells
And clock towers and trees.
From there you could see
The dry face of Castille
Like a sea of leather
My house was called
“The house with the flowers” because around it
Geraniums exploded. It was
A beautiful house
With dogs and kids.
Raúl, do you remember?
Federico, do you still remember
Under the ground?
Do you remember my house with the balconies
Where the June light soaked your mouth with
The taste of flowers?
Brother! Brother!
The market place of Arguelles, my neighborhood
With its statue like a pale inkwell among
The fish stalls.
It was all
Loud voices, salty commerce,
A deep rumble
Of feet and hands filled the streets,
Meters and liters,
The sharp essence of life,
Fish stacked up,
The texture of roofs in the cold sun in which
The weather-vane grows tired.
Fine, crazily carved ivory of potatoes
Lines of tomatoes to the sea.
Then one morning flames
Came out of the ground
Devouring human beings.
From then on fire,
Gunpowder from then on,
From then on blood.
Bandits with airplanes and Moorish troops
Bandits with gold rings and duchesses
Bandits with black monks giving their blessing
Came across the sky to kill children
And through the streets, the blood of children
Ran simply, like children’s blood does.
Jackals that a jackal would reject
Stones that a dry thistle would bite and spit out
Vipers that vipers would hate!
I have seen the blood
Of Spain rise up against you
To drown you in a single wave
Of pride and knives!
Generals
Traitors
Look at my dead home
Look at broken Spain –
But from each dead house
Burning metal shoots out
Instead of flowers.
From every shell-hole in Spain
Spain will rise.
From every dead child a rifle with
Eyes will rise.
From every crime bullets will be born
Which will one day find a place
In your hearts.
You ask “Why doesn’t your poetry
Speak to us of dreams and leaves
Of the great volcanoes of your native land?”
Come
See the blood along the streets
Come see
The blood along the streets
Come see the blood
Along the Streets!
Here are some websites to check out for more on Pablo Neruda
Pablo Neruda at Culture Cafe: Lone Star Internet
Poet Seers
Pablo Neruda Nobel Prize in Literature 1971 Bio
Pablo Neruda Wikipedia
Pablo Neruda at PoemHunter.com
Pablo Neruda Page
so see you later,
GORD.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Victor Jara - Butchered By Pinochet & The American People
Here is a bit more on Victor Jara who has been a great influence in folk Music and in politics or social reform throughout the Americas. But very little on the United States since the Americans are quite content to live in a country run by an elite. It is of course the very nature of a class based society that those in the upper-classes promote the lie that the society is an egalitarian society. Yes everybody gets to vote though your vote may or may not be counted and the difference between the two parties is more a matter of style and rhetoric rather than substance. From earliest childhood on we are taught the great myth that our society is the best ;it is the most egalitarian; it is the most just ; it is the most compassionate. Meanwhile the rich get richer and the middle class dream of becoming members of the class of the rich and the privileged .
Victor Jara-Plegaria a un labrador
Victor Jara- Vamaos por Ancho Camino
TE RECUERDO AMANDA - VICTOR JARA
Victor Jara
words by Adrian Mitchell, music by Arlo Guthrie
see video at YOUTUBE
Victor Jara of Chile
Lived like a shooting star
He fought for the people of Chile
With his songs and his guitar
His hands were gentle, his hands were strong
Victor Jara was a peasant
He worked from a few years old
He sat upon his father's plow
And watched the earth unfold
His hands were gentle, his hands were strong
Now when the neighbors had a wedding
Or one of their children died
His mother sang all night for them
With Victor by her side
His hands were gentle, his hands were strong
He grew up to be a fighter
Against the people's wrongs
He listened to their grief and joy
And turned them into songs
His hands were gentle, his hands were strong
He sang about the copper miners
And those who worked the land
He sang about the factory workers
And they knew he was their man
His hands were gentle, his hands were strong
He campaigned for Allende
Working night and day
He sang "Take hold of your brothers hand
You know the future begins today"
His hands were gentle, his hands were strong
Then the generals seized Chile
They arrested Victor then
They caged him in a stadium
With five-thousand frightened men
His hands were gentle, his hands were strong
Victor stood in the stadium
His voice was brave and strong
And he sang for his fellow prisoners
Till the guards cut short his song
His hands were gentle, his hands were strong
They broke the bones in both his hands
They beat him on the head
They tore him with electric shocks
And then they shot him dead
His hands were gentle, his hands were strong
Repeat first verse
(©1977, 1990 by by Adrian Mitchell & Arlo Guthrie
All Rights Reserved.)
And from American Nihilist: Please Remember Victor Jara(sept. 11, 2007 )
Here is the last unfinished poem Victor wrote which was smuggled out of the Santiago boxing stadium where he would shortly be martyred. It has been translated from spanish by his wife Joan:
There are five thousand of us here
in this small part of the city.
We are five thousand.
I wonder how many we are in all
in the cities and in the whole country?
Here alone
are ten thousand hands which plant seeds
and make the factories run.
How much humanity
exposed to hunger, cold, panic, pain,
moral pressure, terror and insanity?
Six of us were lost
as if into starry space.
One dead, another beaten as I could never have believed
a human being could be beaten.
The other four wanted to end their terror
one jumping into nothingness,
another beating his head against a wall,
but all with the fixed stare of death.
What horror the face of fascism creates!
They carry out their plans with knife-like precision.
Nothing matters to them.
To them, blood equals medals,
slaughter is an act of heroism.
Oh God, is this the world that you created,
for this your seven days of wonder and work?
Within these four walls only a number exists
which does not progress,
which slowly will wish more and more for death.
But suddenly my conscience awakes
and I see that this tide has no heartbeat,
only the pulse of machines
and the military showing their midwives' faces
full of sweetness.
Let Mexico, Cuba and the world
cry out against this atrocity!
We are ten thousand hands
which can produce nothing.
How many of us in the whole country?
The blood of our President, our compañero,
will strike with more strength than bombs and machine guns!
So will our fist strike again!
How hard it is to sing
when I must sing of horror.
Horror which I am living,
horror which I am dying.
To see myself among so much
and so many moments of infinity
in which silence and screams
are the end of my song.
What I see, I have never seen
What I have felt and what I feel
Will give birth to the moment ...
Home Page Eye For Talent The Best in World MUsic
take care,
gord
Victor Jara-Plegaria a un labrador
Victor Jara- Vamaos por Ancho Camino
TE RECUERDO AMANDA - VICTOR JARA
Victor Jara
words by Adrian Mitchell, music by Arlo Guthrie
see video at YOUTUBE
Victor Jara of Chile
Lived like a shooting star
He fought for the people of Chile
With his songs and his guitar
His hands were gentle, his hands were strong
Victor Jara was a peasant
He worked from a few years old
He sat upon his father's plow
And watched the earth unfold
His hands were gentle, his hands were strong
Now when the neighbors had a wedding
Or one of their children died
His mother sang all night for them
With Victor by her side
His hands were gentle, his hands were strong
He grew up to be a fighter
Against the people's wrongs
He listened to their grief and joy
And turned them into songs
His hands were gentle, his hands were strong
He sang about the copper miners
And those who worked the land
He sang about the factory workers
And they knew he was their man
His hands were gentle, his hands were strong
He campaigned for Allende
Working night and day
He sang "Take hold of your brothers hand
You know the future begins today"
His hands were gentle, his hands were strong
Then the generals seized Chile
They arrested Victor then
They caged him in a stadium
With five-thousand frightened men
His hands were gentle, his hands were strong
Victor stood in the stadium
His voice was brave and strong
And he sang for his fellow prisoners
Till the guards cut short his song
His hands were gentle, his hands were strong
They broke the bones in both his hands
They beat him on the head
They tore him with electric shocks
And then they shot him dead
His hands were gentle, his hands were strong
Repeat first verse
(©1977, 1990 by by Adrian Mitchell & Arlo Guthrie
All Rights Reserved.)
And from American Nihilist: Please Remember Victor Jara(sept. 11, 2007 )
Here is the last unfinished poem Victor wrote which was smuggled out of the Santiago boxing stadium where he would shortly be martyred. It has been translated from spanish by his wife Joan:
There are five thousand of us here
in this small part of the city.
We are five thousand.
I wonder how many we are in all
in the cities and in the whole country?
Here alone
are ten thousand hands which plant seeds
and make the factories run.
How much humanity
exposed to hunger, cold, panic, pain,
moral pressure, terror and insanity?
Six of us were lost
as if into starry space.
One dead, another beaten as I could never have believed
a human being could be beaten.
The other four wanted to end their terror
one jumping into nothingness,
another beating his head against a wall,
but all with the fixed stare of death.
What horror the face of fascism creates!
They carry out their plans with knife-like precision.
Nothing matters to them.
To them, blood equals medals,
slaughter is an act of heroism.
Oh God, is this the world that you created,
for this your seven days of wonder and work?
Within these four walls only a number exists
which does not progress,
which slowly will wish more and more for death.
But suddenly my conscience awakes
and I see that this tide has no heartbeat,
only the pulse of machines
and the military showing their midwives' faces
full of sweetness.
Let Mexico, Cuba and the world
cry out against this atrocity!
We are ten thousand hands
which can produce nothing.
How many of us in the whole country?
The blood of our President, our compañero,
will strike with more strength than bombs and machine guns!
So will our fist strike again!
How hard it is to sing
when I must sing of horror.
Horror which I am living,
horror which I am dying.
To see myself among so much
and so many moments of infinity
in which silence and screams
are the end of my song.
What I see, I have never seen
What I have felt and what I feel
Will give birth to the moment ...
Home Page Eye For Talent The Best in World MUsic
take care,
gord
Monday, March 3, 2008
VICTOR JARA-MARTYR /POET/MUSICIAN / POLITICAL FOLK ARTIST
Victor Jara- el cigarrito
Anyway here is some music dedicated to those struggling against oppression in the Americas or in Burma/Mynamar or Iraq or the Middle East or America wherever the Fascists and Neocons are trying to undermine Democracy, Freedom and Justice .
Here's an english song by Christy Moore about Victor Jara:
Victor Jara Manifiesto
Artist: Victor Jara
Song: Manifiesto
Yo no canto por cantar
ni por tener buena voz
canto porque la guitarra
tiene sentido y razón
tiene corazón de tierra
y alas de palomita
es como el agua bendita
santiguas glorias y penas
aquí se encajó mi canto
como dijiera Violeta
guitarra trabajadora
con olor a primavera
Que no es guitarra de ricos
ni cosa que se parezca
mi canto es de los andiamos
para alcanzar las estrellas
que el canto tiene sentido
cuando palpita en las venas
del que morirá cantado
las verdades verdaderas
no las lisonjas fugazes
ni las famas extranjeras
sino el canto de una lonja
hasta el fondo de la tierra
Ahí donde llega todo
y donde todo comienza
canto que ha sido valiente
siempre será canción nueva
siempre será canción nueva
siempre será canción nueva
Joan Jara:
"I don't sing for love of singing
or to show off my voice
but for the statements
made by my honest guitar
for its heart is of earth
and like the dove it goes flying
tenderly as holy water
blessing the brave and the dying
so my song has found a purpose
as Violetta Parra would say
yes, my guitar is a worker
shining and smelling of spring
my guitar is not for killers
greedy for money and power
but for the people who labour
so that future may flower
for a song takes on a meaning
when its own heartbeat is strong
sung by a man who will die singing
truthfully singing his song
I don't sing for adulation
or so that strangers may weep
I sing for a far strip of country
narrow but endlessly deep
in the earth in which we begin
in the earth in which we end
brave songs will give birth
to a song which will always be new"
Lyrics and translation from ST Lyrics.com
Commandante Che Guevera-Victor Jara
Victor Jara Manifiesto
Brief Biography of Victor Jara
On September 16, 1973, Chilean political songwriter and activist Victor Jara was brutally murdered in Santiago's boxing stadium during the aftermath of the U.S.-backed September 10-11 coup d'etat which resulted in the death of the democratically elected president, Salvador Allende, and the installation of a repressive military dictatorship. The US-influenced regime change frustrated the Chilean people's hope for a government that would bring their country socio-economic justice, replacing it instead with a despair that would continue for the next 17 years under the repressive leadership of Augusto Pinochet, who after the coup abolished civil liberties, dissolved congress, banned unions activities and workers' strikes, and reversed the agrarian and economic reforms of Allende's socialist government. More than twenty-two hundred people were 'disappeared' under Pinochet's authoritarian rule.
Victor Jara was born in the small town of Lonquen, Chile on September 23, 1932 to Manuel and Amanda Jara. As a child, Victor experienced first-hand what it was like to live a humble life. His father provided for his family with the wages he earned as a day laborer while his mother added to the family's income by working odd jobs. When Victor was still a young child his father, who had an alcohol problem and was an abusive husband, left home to work as a field laborer in the countryside. Conditions were rough for his mother who was left alone to raise Victor and his siblings. Notwithstanding, she managed to spend a great deal of time with her children, often playing the guitar and singing Chilean folk songs for them. Victor's mother died when he was only fifteen years old.
After spending a short time in a seminary and then in the military, Victor went on to study theater at the University of Chile, where he developed an interest in directing. After finishing school, he began his career as a director and was involved in numerous theater productions. It was during this time that Victor Jara experienced a renewed interest in traditional Chilean folk songs as well as national politics. Also during this time, he met Violeta Parra, another Nueva Cancion artist, who was the owner of a small café. In 1966, Victor Jara released his first LP, the self-titled "Victor Jara." That same year, he joined another Nueva Cancion group, Quilapayún, serving as the band's art director until 1969. In 1970, Victor ended his career as a director and turned his energy towards furthering the Chilean people's struggle for peace and justice through his songs, political activism, and support for leftist Chilean President Salvador Allende.
Allende, who belonged to the leftist coalition party, Unidad Popular, had been voted into office on a platform promising to take-over large foreign companies and monopolies, expropriate all landholdings over 80 hectares, and increase spending on social programs. His first year in office was a remarkable success - the working population saw their income increase by 50% while the real income of all Chileans rose an equally impressive 30%. But in spite of these early advances, by 1973, dissatisfaction with his presidency grew when economic conditions soured. While these difficulties were in part due to general market conditions and the side effects of his socially progressive policies, a major factor in the decline were the activities of his domestic and foreign critics. At home, the entrenched conservative elite controlled 95% of the radio stations, 90% of the newspapers, and all of the weekly magazines. The Catholic Church was adamantly opposed to his policies and the working class was divided largely as a result of the conservatives' stranglehold over public discourse. Overseas, hostile foreign interests had successfully influenced a significant reduction in both foreign investment and multilateral aid. Moreover, between 1970 and 1973, the United States Government spent $8 million pursuing a policy intentionally aimed at destabilizing the Chilean economy - a policy that had been authorized by then Secretary of State Henry Kissinger (who was just recently honored by President George Bush with an appointment as the chairman of the 'Independent' 9/11 Investigative Commission, which Mr. Kissinger declined)
Take care,
GORD.
Anyway here is some music dedicated to those struggling against oppression in the Americas or in Burma/Mynamar or Iraq or the Middle East or America wherever the Fascists and Neocons are trying to undermine Democracy, Freedom and Justice .
Here's an english song by Christy Moore about Victor Jara:
Victor Jara Manifiesto
Artist: Victor Jara
Song: Manifiesto
Yo no canto por cantar
ni por tener buena voz
canto porque la guitarra
tiene sentido y razón
tiene corazón de tierra
y alas de palomita
es como el agua bendita
santiguas glorias y penas
aquí se encajó mi canto
como dijiera Violeta
guitarra trabajadora
con olor a primavera
Que no es guitarra de ricos
ni cosa que se parezca
mi canto es de los andiamos
para alcanzar las estrellas
que el canto tiene sentido
cuando palpita en las venas
del que morirá cantado
las verdades verdaderas
no las lisonjas fugazes
ni las famas extranjeras
sino el canto de una lonja
hasta el fondo de la tierra
Ahí donde llega todo
y donde todo comienza
canto que ha sido valiente
siempre será canción nueva
siempre será canción nueva
siempre será canción nueva
Joan Jara:
"I don't sing for love of singing
or to show off my voice
but for the statements
made by my honest guitar
for its heart is of earth
and like the dove it goes flying
tenderly as holy water
blessing the brave and the dying
so my song has found a purpose
as Violetta Parra would say
yes, my guitar is a worker
shining and smelling of spring
my guitar is not for killers
greedy for money and power
but for the people who labour
so that future may flower
for a song takes on a meaning
when its own heartbeat is strong
sung by a man who will die singing
truthfully singing his song
I don't sing for adulation
or so that strangers may weep
I sing for a far strip of country
narrow but endlessly deep
in the earth in which we begin
in the earth in which we end
brave songs will give birth
to a song which will always be new"
Lyrics and translation from ST Lyrics.com
Commandante Che Guevera-Victor Jara
Victor Jara Manifiesto
Brief Biography of Victor Jara
On September 16, 1973, Chilean political songwriter and activist Victor Jara was brutally murdered in Santiago's boxing stadium during the aftermath of the U.S.-backed September 10-11 coup d'etat which resulted in the death of the democratically elected president, Salvador Allende, and the installation of a repressive military dictatorship. The US-influenced regime change frustrated the Chilean people's hope for a government that would bring their country socio-economic justice, replacing it instead with a despair that would continue for the next 17 years under the repressive leadership of Augusto Pinochet, who after the coup abolished civil liberties, dissolved congress, banned unions activities and workers' strikes, and reversed the agrarian and economic reforms of Allende's socialist government. More than twenty-two hundred people were 'disappeared' under Pinochet's authoritarian rule.
Victor Jara was born in the small town of Lonquen, Chile on September 23, 1932 to Manuel and Amanda Jara. As a child, Victor experienced first-hand what it was like to live a humble life. His father provided for his family with the wages he earned as a day laborer while his mother added to the family's income by working odd jobs. When Victor was still a young child his father, who had an alcohol problem and was an abusive husband, left home to work as a field laborer in the countryside. Conditions were rough for his mother who was left alone to raise Victor and his siblings. Notwithstanding, she managed to spend a great deal of time with her children, often playing the guitar and singing Chilean folk songs for them. Victor's mother died when he was only fifteen years old.
After spending a short time in a seminary and then in the military, Victor went on to study theater at the University of Chile, where he developed an interest in directing. After finishing school, he began his career as a director and was involved in numerous theater productions. It was during this time that Victor Jara experienced a renewed interest in traditional Chilean folk songs as well as national politics. Also during this time, he met Violeta Parra, another Nueva Cancion artist, who was the owner of a small café. In 1966, Victor Jara released his first LP, the self-titled "Victor Jara." That same year, he joined another Nueva Cancion group, Quilapayún, serving as the band's art director until 1969. In 1970, Victor ended his career as a director and turned his energy towards furthering the Chilean people's struggle for peace and justice through his songs, political activism, and support for leftist Chilean President Salvador Allende.
Allende, who belonged to the leftist coalition party, Unidad Popular, had been voted into office on a platform promising to take-over large foreign companies and monopolies, expropriate all landholdings over 80 hectares, and increase spending on social programs. His first year in office was a remarkable success - the working population saw their income increase by 50% while the real income of all Chileans rose an equally impressive 30%. But in spite of these early advances, by 1973, dissatisfaction with his presidency grew when economic conditions soured. While these difficulties were in part due to general market conditions and the side effects of his socially progressive policies, a major factor in the decline were the activities of his domestic and foreign critics. At home, the entrenched conservative elite controlled 95% of the radio stations, 90% of the newspapers, and all of the weekly magazines. The Catholic Church was adamantly opposed to his policies and the working class was divided largely as a result of the conservatives' stranglehold over public discourse. Overseas, hostile foreign interests had successfully influenced a significant reduction in both foreign investment and multilateral aid. Moreover, between 1970 and 1973, the United States Government spent $8 million pursuing a policy intentionally aimed at destabilizing the Chilean economy - a policy that had been authorized by then Secretary of State Henry Kissinger (who was just recently honored by President George Bush with an appointment as the chairman of the 'Independent' 9/11 Investigative Commission, which Mr. Kissinger declined)
Take care,
GORD.
Monday, February 25, 2008
La Vie En Rose- Marion Cotillard Won the Oscar for Best Actress
Just a little update-
La Vie En Rose- Trailer
From the streets of the cutthroat Belleville district of Paris to the dazzling
limelight of New York's glamorous concert halls, Edith Piaf's life was a constant
battle to sing and survive, to live and love. Raised in abject poverty, surrounded by hookers and pimps, Edith's magical voice made her a star on both sides of the Atlantic. Her passionate romances and friendships with the greatest names of the period -- Yves Montand, Jean Cocteau, Charles Aznavour, Marlene Deitrich, boxing world champion Marcel Cerdan -- made her a household name as much as her memorable live performances and beautiful renditions of songs she made famous internationally, "La Vie en Rose", "Milord", "Hymn to Love", "Non, je ne regrette rien" and many more. But in her audacious attempt to tame her tragic destiny, the "Little Sparrow" -- as she was nicknamed -- flew so high that she could not fail to burn her wings
Here's one of the great scenes from the wonderful film La Vie En Rose
One of the best films of the last year
For which Marion Cotillard who played Edith Piaf received the Oscar for Best Actress and she deserves it.
for more see:Official Move Site , La Vie En Rose
see you later,
gord
La Vie En Rose- Trailer
From the streets of the cutthroat Belleville district of Paris to the dazzling
limelight of New York's glamorous concert halls, Edith Piaf's life was a constant
battle to sing and survive, to live and love. Raised in abject poverty, surrounded by hookers and pimps, Edith's magical voice made her a star on both sides of the Atlantic. Her passionate romances and friendships with the greatest names of the period -- Yves Montand, Jean Cocteau, Charles Aznavour, Marlene Deitrich, boxing world champion Marcel Cerdan -- made her a household name as much as her memorable live performances and beautiful renditions of songs she made famous internationally, "La Vie en Rose", "Milord", "Hymn to Love", "Non, je ne regrette rien" and many more. But in her audacious attempt to tame her tragic destiny, the "Little Sparrow" -- as she was nicknamed -- flew so high that she could not fail to burn her wings
Here's one of the great scenes from the wonderful film La Vie En Rose
One of the best films of the last year
For which Marion Cotillard who played Edith Piaf received the Oscar for Best Actress and she deserves it.
for more see:Official Move Site , La Vie En Rose
see you later,
gord
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Johnny Depp's Films " Finding Neverland " & Tim Burton & John Waters
JOHNNY DEPP " FINDING NEVERLAND "
Odd he should take the part of a pirate in the film when playing with the childre. Shades of things to come as he plays in the Pirates of the Caribbean series.
she went to Neverland
Johnny Depp is a wonder
SWEET & SAD STORY OF THE REAL PETER PAN
So I’d like to talk about some films which I enjoyed which starred Johnny Depp. One of these films FINDING NEVERLAND directed by Marc Forster(2004) which I wasn’t sure if it were my cup of tea. But I was wrong about that. I was captivated & enchanted with the story from the first scene to the last. It is the story of J. M. Barrie & how he came to write his most famous play Peter Pan . The film begins with J. M. Barrie(Johnny Depp) who is not a very successful playwright but who keeps plugging away at his chosen profession . He is stuck in a somewhat drab loveless marriage but happens to meet a widow Sylvia Davis (Kate Winslet ) & her four sons & he begins to spend a great deal of time with the family going to the park & playing with them; inventing elaborate scenarios about Pirates & cowboys & Indians etc.& a place he calls Neverland where anything is possible & where children need not grow up. All of this becomes the basis of his play Peter Pan .
The film explores the drama of the story but combines elements of fantasy as we are treated to a wonderful series of the writers flights of imagination which are finally realized in the production of his play Peter Pan. So the film takes on that enchanted quality & yet continues to reveal the reality of the situation J. M. Barrie has entangled himself & others in. He is after all a married man spending most of his free time with another woman & her children so people are bound to talk & speculate that he is having an affair or worse that he might be some sort of pedophile . Barrie is really Peter Pan since he has never really grown up or just doesn’t wish to.
Anyway I just wanted to recommend this film to anyone who may have thought as I did that it would be one of those slow dull period pieces which take a long time to say very little. Besides it is worth it just to see Johnny Depp’s performance . The film is funny & magical & moving.
You’ll laugh & cry & all that jazz. In some ways it reminded me of Tim Burton’s wonderful film Big Fish which also combined real life drama interwoven with fantasy sequences .
STILL TEARS TO SHED IN THE WORLD OF THE DEAD
Corpse Bride- Remains of the Day
A WONDROUS FANTASY FILM
And that brings me to another wondrous film which is Tim Burton’s The Corpse Bride. The film is done with stop-motion animation like his earlier film Nightmare Before Christmas. The film stars Johnny Depp as the main character Victor who is quite unhappy that his parents have arranged for him to be married in order to help them out of their desperate financial situation . But just before the wedding rehearsal he & his intended bride Victoria (Emily Watson) meet & fall in love. Then he goes off to the nearest graveyard(of course) to practice his vows which he says out loud & a female corpse (Helena Bonham -Carter) rises up to accept his hand in marriage but she is dead & he is still among the living.
It is in some ways a typical theme for a romantic comedy or possibly a tragedy of star-crossed lovers & all that . So Victor gets dragged off to the world of the dead & then convinces the corpse bride she should meet his parents & so they return to the world of the living & he tricks her leaving her waiting for him in the woods but as he returns to his intended & tries to explain what has happened the corpse bride appears & drags him back to the land of the dead. Then the real villain shows up claiming to be a Lord & to be very wealthy who will be willing to marry the young bride to be to save her from public ridicule & then it all gets delightfully weird which is quite to my liking.
Of course what is fascinating about the film is that the world of the living is done in black and white and shades of grey while the world of the dead is in vibrant colors. The dead are depicted as more lively and full of life and seem to be enjoying themselves singing and joking and having a grand old time of it.
The world of the living on the other hand is restrained and the people are in a state of constant worry and anxiety. It is a world of rules with little room for individual expression. It is a world of conformity as in Tim Burton's Edward Scissor Hands also staring Johnny Depp.
There are of course musical numbers as there were in Tim Burton’s earlier films “ Nightmare Before Christmas “ & “ Beetlegeuse ” & his more recent “ Charlie & the Chocolate Factory” .
TIM BURTON'S CHARLIE & THE CHOCOLATE FACTORY
OOMPA LOOMPAS IN CHARLIE & THE CHOCOLATE FACTORY ( 2005)
Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - Trailer 2005
Another wonderful performance of Johnny Depp can be seen in Tim Burton’s “ Charlie & the Chocolate Factory”. I really enjoyed this newer version of “ Willie Wonka “ . Johnny Depp as Willie Wonka is a quirky, bizarre, & almost malevolent sort of character which is closer to that of the character in the Roald Dahl’s books which are delightful yet a little bit sinister & we feel a bit of unease about Willie Wonka . The visuals & sets are a wonder to see .The factory with its glass elevator & hundreds of Oompa Loompas is awesome.
The story is about Charlie Buckett finding a Golden Ticket in a Wonka Bar which entitles him & Grandpa Joe to meet Willie Wonka & take a tour of his factory & a chance at winning a mysterious grand prize.
The oppressive poverty of Charlie & his family is presented in stark terms. The four grandparents live in a bed which they never leave & they all dine on cabbage soup night after night as they huddle in the cold. The father works at a toothpaste factory but is poorly paid & then gets replaced by a machine. They have very little to eat & so dine on cabbage soup everyday .
Grandpa Joe in this version once worked at Willie Wonka’s candy factory before Willie Wonka shut it down because spies were working in his factory who were selling his secrets to his competitors. Of course he reopens his factory & produces candy again but no one knows who or what his workers are. We get the story of how Wonka found the Oompa loompas & brought them to his factory to work for him. We also get a very strange back-story on Willie Wonka whose father was a dentist who wouldn’t allow Willie Wonka to eat sweets so in an act of rebellion Wonka becomes a candy maker.
I should admit I have enjoyed most of the films in which Johnny Depp has been in from his role of the boyfriend eaten by his bed ,actually it was the demonic Freddy in Wes Craven’s Nightmare on Elm Street who swallows him up, to John Waters irreverent “ Cry Baby” to Jim Jarmusch’s outre film “ Dead Man “ to the delightful “ Benny & Joon “ to” What’s Eating Gilbert Grape “ to the intriguing “ Secret Window” & Polanski’s supernatural thriller about Book lovers & Satanists “ The Ninth Gate “ to of course Tim Burton’s surreal & touching “ Edward Scissorhands “ & the marvelous & funny & endearing “Ed Wood “ & his gothic rendition of“ Sleepy Hollow” .
Here’s the connection & a bit of movie trivia - SECRET WINDOW & THE DARK HALF
As for Secret Window in which Johnny Depp plays a writer going through a messy divorce & is suffering from severe depression & acute writer’s block . He is staying in a cottage in the woods by himself . Suddenly he is confronted by some psychotic who claims the writer has plagiarized a story he has written. But there is something not quite right about any of this .But even after the ending is revealed the movie still holds together after repeated viewings like a similar film “ Identity” or Hitchcock’s best films. Such as Rear Window, Psycho etc.
Johnny Depp Secret Window
Yes part of the plot for Secret Window has been done before & it may seem very familiar to viewers & part of the reason is that a similar story was told in George A. Romero’s adaptation of Stephen King’s story The Dark Half.
The tip off for me was that Timothy Hutton in Secret Window plays the boyfriend of Johnny Depp’s characters ex-wife.& Timothy Hutton was in George A. Romero’s supernatural film adaptation of a Stephen King story “ The Dark Half ”which is also about a writer who teaches at a college who writes critically acclaimed books which do not sell & so for years writes under an assumed name popular crime stories about a nasty character named Machine so what ‘s the connection. Well one day a low life character played by Rob Joy shows up & threatens to reveal that the professor also writes these trashy novels so the writer decides to kill off his alter ego & as a publicity stunt even pretends to bury him in the town’s graveyard & has it all photographed for a magazine as he decides to go public .
But of course things begin to take a turn for the worse. Something’s not quite right as friends & associates of the professor are being murdered one after the other & we discover that the professor /writer had epileptic seizures as a child . He was finally operated on to see what's causing the seizures . What they discover is that he was supposed to be a twin and that part of the twin had continued to grow inside his head or whatever and then it gets weird. Back to the present as it seems his alter ego Machine has managed to become part of the real world and confronts the writer for he wants to become human or enter the world of the living.
Anyway it is a neat touch to have Timothy Hutton in this other film version of a Stephen King story which is also about a writer in a crisis situation .
Other Johnny Depp films I would recommend include Benny & Joon which is just a little gem of a movie . It is touching and funny .
a funny scene from Benny and Joon -Johnny Depp being wacky
another funny bit from Benny & Joon
Benny & Joon - Johnny Depp, Spokane Riverfront park
Depp doing his Buster Keaton Schtick
Another film I like which didn't get much exposure was John Waters teen musical Cry Baby also starring Johnny Depp. Maybe now that John Waters' Hairspray is a hit more people will take a look at John Waters other films such as Serial Mom and Pecker .
Another film to watch out for is What is Eating Gilbert Grape which is good but a bit uneven .The other great performance in that film is Leonardo DiCaprio who plays Gilbert's ( Depp) younger brother who is mentally delayed and has a thing about climbing the town's water tower and only Gilbert is able to talk him down. Di Caprio is completley immersed in his part. Meanwhile they have a mother who is in a state of depression since the father hanged himself in the basement. As a result she over eats and weighs three hundred pounds or more .
Roman Polanski's The Ninth Gate Trailer
Anyway that’s all for now ,
GORD.
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