Blinded By The Light 
    
  
   

By Bruce Springsteen

Madman drummers bummers and Indians in the summer
With a teenage diplomat
In the dumps with the mumps
As the adolescent pumps his way into his hat
With a boulder on my shoulder feelin' kinda older
I tripped the merry-go-round
With this very unpleasing sneezing and wheezing
The calliope crashed to the ground
Some all-hot half-shot was headin' for the hot spot
Snappin' his fingers clappin' his hands
And some fleshpot mascot was tied into a lover's knot
With a whatnot in her hand
And now young Scott with a slingshot finally found a tender spot
And throws his lover in the sand
And some bloodshot forget-me-not
Whispers daddy's within earshot
Save the buckshot turn up the band

And she was blinded by the light
Cut loose like a deuce another runner in the night
Blinded by the light
She got down but she never got tight, but she'll make it alright

Some brimstone baritone anti-cyclone rolling stone
Preacher from the east
He says: "Dethrone the dictaphone,
Hit it in its funny bone, that's where they expect it least"
And some new-mown chaperone
Was standin' in the corner all alone
Watchin' the young girls dance
And some fresh-sown moonstone
Was messin' with his frozen zone
To remind him of the feeling of romance

Yeah he was blinded by the light
Cut loose like a deuce another runner in the night
Blinded by the light
He got down but she never got tight, but he's gonna make it tonight

Some silicone sister with her manager's mister
Told me I got what it takes
She said I'll turn you on sonny, to something strong
If you play that song with the funky break,
And go-cart Mozart was checkin' out the weather chart
To see if it was safe to go outside
And little Early-Pearly came in by her curly-wurly
And asked me if I needed a ride,

Yeah he was blinded by the light
Cut loose like a deuce another runner in the night
Blinded by the light
He got down but she never got tight, but he's gonna make it tonight

Oh, some hazard from Harvard was skunked on beer
Playin' backyard bombardier
Yes and Scotland Yard was trying hard,
They sent a dude with a calling card,
He said, do what you like, but don't do it here
Well I jumped up, turnedaround,
Spit in the air, fell on the ground
Asked him which was the way back home
He said take a right at the light, keep goin' straight until night,
And then boy, you're on your own

And he was blinded by the light
Cut loose like a deuce another runner in the night
Blinded by the light
He got down but she never got tight, but he's gonna make it alright

And now in Zanzibar a shootin' star
Was ridin' in a side car hummin' a lunar tune
Yes, and the avatar said blow the bar
But first remove the cookie jar
We're gonna teach those boys to laugh too soon
And some kidnapped handicap
Was complainin' that he caught the clap
From some mousetrap he bought last night,
Well I unsnapped his skull cap and between his ears I saw a gap
But figured he'd be all right

He was just blinded by the light
Cut loose like a deuce another runner in the night
Blinded by the light

Mama always told me not to look into the sights of the sun
Oh but mama that's where the fun is

    
Kubla Khan

By Samuel Taylor Coleridge

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree:
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea.

So twice five miles of fertile ground
With walls and towers were girdled round:
And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills,
Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree;
And here were forests ancient as the hills,
Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.

But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted
Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!
A savage place! as holy and enchanted
As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted
By woman wailing for her demon-lover!
And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,
As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,
A mighty fountain momently was forced:
Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst
Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,
Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher's flail:
And 'mid these dancing rocks at once and ever
It flung up momently the sacred river.
Five miles meandering with a mazy motion
Through wood and dale the sacred river ran,
Then reached the caverns measureless to man,
And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean:
And 'mid this tumult Kubla heard from far
Ancestral voices prophesying war!

The shadow of the dome of pleasure
Floated midway on the waves;
Where was heard the mingled measure
From the fountain and the caves.
It was a miracle of rare device,
A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice!

A damsel with a dulcimer
In a vision once I saw:
It was an Abyssinian maid,
And on her dulcimer she played,
Singing of Mount Abora.
Could I revive within me
Her symphony and song,
To such a deep delight 'twould win me
That with music loud and long
I would build that dome in air,
That sunny dome! those caves of ice!
And all who heard should see them there,
And all should cry, Beware! Beware!
His flashing eyes, his floating hair!
Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread,
For he on honey-dew hath fed
And drunk the milk of Paradise.

  
The Diamond Life

By Hank Edson

The first wisdom came in the pride of sunlight, watching the dazzling rays perform their miracles of passage. The brilliant diffusions, the quiet reflections: much more than a mirror, this body of facets in smooth perfect precision. Its solid hallways, entrances of content, windows of crystallized vision. The thought becoming the thing, over and over again; not transversion, but transcendence, the perfect medium for light’s pure energy. Unified in a coexistence lucid but stable, who could say which entered which? Was it the light that grew more endowed, more abstract, a spontaneous lumination? Or was it the jewel’s impossible concentration, the finesse of the diamond life, the absolute strength in its rigid sensitivity, knowing each as each, a meaning for the whole identity? Its prophetic evolution simultaneously organic, rational, hinting beyond at values still indiscernible in its untried depths, what we call the emotional. Turning before me, one breath of its beautiful, sharp vapor to let the vital flow of my whole life’s blood.

Wondering Where The Lions Are

by Bruce Cockburn

Adam’s Curse

By W.B. Yeats

We sat together at one summer's end,
That beautiful mild woman, your close friend,
And you and I, and talked of poetry.
I said, 'A line will take us hours maybe;
Yet if it does not seem a moment's thought,
Our stitching and unstitching has been naught.
Better go down upon your marrow-bones
And scrub a kitchen pavement, or break stones
Like an old pauper, in all kinds of weather;
For to articulate sweet sounds together
Is to work harder than all these, and yet
Be thought an idler by the noisy set
Of bankers, schoolmasters, and clergymen
The martyrs call the world.'

                                                And thereupon
That beautiful mild woman for whose sake
There's many a one shall find out all heartache
On finding that her voice is sweet and low
Replied, 'To be born woman is to know-
Although they do not talk of it at school-
That we must labour to be beautiful.'

I said, 'It's certain there is no fine thing
Since Adam's fall but needs much labouring.
There have been lovers who thought love should be
So much compounded of high courtesy
That they would sigh and quote with learned looks
Precedents out of beautiful old books;
Yet now it seems an idle trade enough.'

We sat grown quiet at the name of love;
We saw the last embers of daylight die,
And in the trembling blue-green of the sky
A moon, worn as if it had been a shell
Washed by time's waters as they rose and fell
About the stars and broke in days and years.

I had a thought for no one's but your ears:
That you were beautiful, and that I strove
To love you in the old high way of love;
That it had all seemed happy, and yet we'd grown
As weary-hearted as that hollow moon.