WA2K Radio is now on the air

and, listeners, with that evening star, I shall say goodnight.

From Letty with love

So were drinking and were dancing
And the band is really happening
And the johnny walker wisdom running high
And my very sweet companion
Shes the angel of compassion
And shes rubbing half the world against her thigh
Every drinker every dancer
Lifts a happy face to thank her
And the fiddler fiddles something so sublime
All the women tear their blouses off
The men they dance on the polka-dots
And its partner found and partner lost
And its hell to pay when the fiddler stops
Its closing time

Were lonely, were romantic
And the ciders laced with acid
And the holy spirits crying, wheres the beef?
And the moon is swimming naked
And the summer night is fragrant
With a mighty expectation of relief
So we struggle and we stagger
Down the snakes and up the ladder
To the tower where the blessed hours chime
And I swear it happened just like this
A sigh, a cry, a hungry kiss
The gates of love they budged an inch
I cant say much has happened since
But closing time

I loved you for your beauty
But that doesnt make a fool of me
You were in it for your beauty too
I loved you for your body
Theres a voice that sounds like God to me
Declaring that your bodys really you
I loved you when our love was blessed
And I love you now theres nothing left
But sorrow and a sense of overtime
And I miss you since the place got wrecked
By the winds of change and the weeds of sex
Looks like freedom but it feels like death
It something in betwen, I guess
Its closing time

Were drinking and were dancing
But theres nothing really happening
The place is dead as heaven on a saturday night
And my very close companion
Gets me fumbling gets me laughing
Shes a hundred but shes wearing
Something tight
I lift my glass to the awful truth
Which you cant reveal to the ears of youth
Except to say it isnt worth a dime
And the whole dam place goes crazy twice
And its once for the devil and its once for christ
But the boss dont like these dizzy heights
Were busted in the blinding lights
Of closing time

Leonard Cohen

Good morning WA2K folks.

edgar, I am continually in awe of Leonard Cohen and his clever use of words in his songs. Thanks, Texas.

Just found out that Robbie Williams is one of the top vocalists in the world. Wow! who would have known that he recorded this one, listeners.

There are many many crazy things
That will keep me loving you
And with
your permission
May I list a few

The way you wear your hat
The way
you sip your tea
The memory of all that
No they can't take that away from
me

The way your smile just beams
The way you sing off key
The way
you haunt my dreams
No they can't take that away from me

We may never
never meet again, on that bumpy road to love
But I'll always, always keep
the memory of

The way you hold your knife
The way we danced till
three
The way you changed my life
No they can't take that away from me

And The Angels Sing
Benny Goodman

We meet, and the angels sing
The angels sing the sweetest song I ever heard
You speak, and the angels sing
Or am I breathing music into every word

Suddenly, the setting is strange
I can see water and moonlight beaming
Silver waves that break
On some undiscovered shore
Then suddenly, I see it all change
Long winter nights with the candles gleaming
Through it all your face that I adore

You smile, and the angels sing
And though it's just a gentle murmur at the start
We kiss, and the angels sing
And leave their music ringing in my heart

Angels sing, edgar, but...............

"Planning permission tied to post
We read when we're waiting for bus
Is always double-checked 'cause we so often suspect
They plan to build something on us
What they'll build, neither here nor there
It's what they'll bury that counts
And how far down they'll push us this time
And how far back up we'll bounce

Angels are born with wings not springs
Devils always born with horns
And beautiful bird only bothers to sing
If beautiful day ever dawns

Angels and devils ain't so easy to spot
As movies like to portray
A devil appears with a cunning veneer
You often only notice too late
If he says he's got wings keep and eye out for springs
Make sure your angel is real
And of all of these things it's the song that he sings
And how the song makes you feel

Angels are born with souls not goals
Devils always search for the high
So beautiful birds sing from telegraph poles
And devil's song fills the whole sky

Yes, birdsong belongs
In the highest of places not where devil performs
Beautiful bird and song
Shouldn't bother to sing if audience mutters and yawns
Mutters and yawns..."

The Beautiful South.

I wonder if we can calm the waters, folks.

This is for JLNobody and his creativity.

The Artist!
By Randy Ramage ©1996



The passion grows, emotions swell,

Such desire must release!

Reach for palette. Where is my brush?

I feel my strength increase!



The vision forms, I see it now.

Brush captures it with speed!

I can't resist, the urge is strong.

The paint fulfils a need!



Stroke by stroke my brush displays

The beauty I perceive.

I love the way it captures all

The thoughts that I conceive!



Finished now I feel released!

My passion turns to pride.

What a gift to so create

All that I have inside!

Good afternoon WA2K.

Today Lucas Haas is celebrating his 31st and Ellen Barkin her 53rd birthday.

This is how I'll always remember Lucas (Witness).

Well, folks, I am glad to see our Raggedy is back with us. So glad that you reminded us of Lucas Haas, PA. and also glad that the nor'easters haven't done you any damage.

I really was taken with the movie "Witness", but I have forgotten if the community consisted of Quakers, or Shakers, or the Amish.

Will have to do a bit of research on Ellen, I'm afraid.

Incidentally that poem, "The Artist" is dedicated not only to JL, but to all those who create.

A song by Aha. (that is really the name of a group, and you know by now how I feel about cognitive insight)

Stories are painted
In lines on your face
Misunderstandings
And little mistakes
A chance to start over



Is all that it takes
You know if you do
Your life is a canvas
The colors are you

Follow me out
Follow me 'round
Let's make the road up as we go along
Just as we planned
You want to believe it
You know that it's true
Your life is a canvas
The colors are you

You cannot erase them
The words that were said
Just paint them over
Inside of your head
All that is needed
You know you must make
One leap of faith
Everything else will fall into place

Follow me out
Follow me 'round
Let's make it up and go back
To where it began
All that is needed
Is one leap of faith
Everything else will fall into place

Anywhere you'll ever go
Everyone you'll ever know
You may never find it
Everyone you'll ever see
Anyone you choose to be
How you look will decide
How you look will decide what you see

Follow the moon
Follow the sun
Let's make a deal this time
To stay with the plan
All that is needed is one leap of faith
Everything else will fall into place
Everything else will fall into place

Stories are painted
In the lines of your face...


".....Let America be America again....."
Langston Hughes

Letty, from all creative people, thanks.

Fishing Hole
Andy Griffith

Well, now, take down your fishin pole and meet me at the fishing hole
We may not get a bite all day, but don't you rush away
What a great place to rest your bones
And mighty fine for skipping stones
You'll feel fresh as a lemonade, a-setting in the shade
Whether it's hot, whether it's cool
Oh, what a spot for whistlin' like a fool

What a fine day to take a stroll & wander by the fishing hole
I can't think of a better way to pass the time of day
We'll have no need to call the roll when we get to The fishin hole
There'll be you, me, and Old Dog Trey, to doodle time away
If we don't hook a perch or bass, we'll cool our toes in dewy grass
Or else pull up a weed to chaw, and maybe set and jaw

Hanging around, taking our ease
Watching that hound a-scratching at his fleas

Come on, take down your fishin pole and meet me at The fishing hole
I can't think of a better way to pass the time of day

It was truly a pleasure, JL. Just glad to see you in our wee cyber station once again.

Remember this?

Vincent
Don McLean


Starry, starry night
Paint your palette blue and gray
Look out on a summer's day
With eyes that know the darkness in my soul...
Shadows on the hills
Sketch the trees and the daffodils
Catch the breeze and the winter chills
In colors on the snowy linen land.

Now I understand
What you tried to say, to me
And how you suffered for your sanity
And how you tried to set them free:
They would not listen; they did not know how --
Perhaps they'll listen now.

Starry, starry night
Flaming flowers that brightly blaze
Swirling clouds in violet haze
Reflect in Vincent's eyes of china blue
Colors changing hue
Morning fields of amber grain
Weathered faces lined in pain
Are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand.

Now I understand
What you tried to say, to me
And how you suffered for your sanity
And how you tried to set them free:
They would not listen; they did not know how--
Perhaps they'll listen now.

For they could not love you
But still, your love was true
And when no hope was left inside
On that starry, starry night
You took your life as lovers often do--
But I could've told you, Vincent:
This world was never meant
For one as beautiful as you.

Starry, Starry night
Portraits hung in empty halls
Frameless heads on nameless walls
With eyes that watch the world and can't forget
Like the strangers that you've met
The ragged men in ragged clothes
The silver thorn, a bloody rose
Lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow.

Now I think I know
What you tried to say, to me
And how you suffered for your sanity
And how you tried to set them free:
They would not listen; they're not listening still--
Perhaps they never will.

Oops, edgar. Missed your Opie and Andy song. Loved it, Texas.

One of my favorite theme songs to a TV show, folks.

"IT'S A JUNGLE OUT THERE"
Randy Newman

It's a jungle out there
Disorder and confusion everywhere
No one seems to care
Well I do
Hey, who's in charge here?
It's a jungle out there
Poison in the very air we breathe
Do you know what's in the water that you drink?
Well I do, and it's amazing
People think I'm crazy, 'cause I worry all the time
If you paid attention, you'd be worried too
You better pay attention
Or this world we love so much might just kill you
I could be wrong now, but I don't think so
It's a jungle out there

THAT ws creative using a Matisse "starry" collage to illustrate the feeling behind Van Gogh's Starry Night.

I thought you would like that, JL.

So many creative and talented people here. edgar is one. <smile> I'm trying my best to listen for my own muse, but she hasn't listened to me, I'm afraid.

Farewell To The Muse

by George Gordon, Lord Byron.
Thou Power! who hast ruled me through Infancy's days,
Young offspring of Fancy, 'tis time we should part;
Then rise on the gale this the last of my lays,
The coldest effusion which springs from my heart.

This bosom, responsive to rapture no more,
Shall hush thy wild notes, nor implore thee to sing;
The feelings of childhood, which taught thee to soar,
Are wafted far distant on Apathy's wing.

Though simple the themes of my rude flowing Lyre,
Yet even these themes are departed for ever;
No more beam the eyes which my dream could inspire,
My visions are flown, to return,--alas, never!

When drain'd is the nectar which gladdens the bowl,
How vain is the effort delight to prolong!
When cold is the beauty which dwelt in my soul,
What magic of Fancy can lengthen my song?

Can the lips sing of Love in the desert alone,
Of kisses and smiles which they now must resign ?
Or dwell with delight on the hours that are flown ?
Ah, no! for those hours can no longer be mine.

Can they speak of the friends that I lived but to love?
Ah, surely Affection ennobles the strain!
But how can my numbers in sympathy move,
When I scarcely can hope to behold them again?

Can I sing of the deeds which my Fathers have done,
And raise my loud harp to the fame of my Sires?
For glories like theirs, oh, how faint is my tone!
For Heroes' exploits how unequal my fires!

Untouch'd, then, my Lyre shall reply to the blast--
'Tis hush'd; and my feeble endeavors are o'er;
And those who have heard it will pardon the past,
When they know that its murmurs shall vibrate no more.

And soon shall its wild erring notes be forgot,
Since early affection and love is o'ercast:
Oh! blest had my Fate been, and happy my lot,
Had the first strain of love been the dearest, the last.

Farewell, my young Muse! since we now can ne'er meet;
If our songs have been languid, they surely are few:
Let us hope that the present at least will be sweet--
The present--which seals our eternal Adieu.

My favorite from Byron is the last stanza of Childe Herald's Pilgrimage

Roll on thou deep and dark blue ocean, roll.
Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain.
Man marks the land with ruin,
His control stops at the shore.

I think that is it, y'all.

Yes, you and Edgar are extremely creative. I have no ability to write poems. I read recently that the writing and imaging creative abilities may be oppositional. Don't know.

It's nice to have this discussion on our little cyber radio, JL. I think creativity is like a flow chart. It can be channeled in any direction, depending upon the inspiration.

Often, it is tragedy which is the muse for many.The balladeers tell stories in poem and song; the musicians and artists, such as you, play out the words with a bow and a brush. The writers of poetry and prose, such as edgar, collect and observe, but are also spontaneous.

just posted this tune on kicky's moby dick thread

thought i'd give it a spin on WA2K

Greenland Whale Fisheries
Pogues

In eighteen hundred and forty-six
And of march the eighteenth day,
We hoisted our colors to the top of the mast
And for greenland sailed away, brave boys,
And for greenland sailed away.

The lookout in the crosstrees stood
With spyglass in his hand;
Theres a whale, theres a whale,
And a whalefish he cried
And she blows at every span, brave boys
She blows at every span.

The captain stood on the quarter deck,
The ice was in his eye;
Overhaul, overhaul! let your gibsheets fall,
And youll put your boats to sea, brave boys
And youll put your boats to sea.

Our harpoon struck and the line played out,
With a single flourish of his tail,
He capsized the boat and we lost five men,
And we did not catch the whale, brave boys,
And we did not catch the whale.

The losing of those five jolly men,
It grieved the captain sore,
But the losing of that fine whalefish
Now it grieved him ten times more, brave boys
Now it grieved him ten times more.

Oh greenland is a barren land
A land that bares no green
Where theres ice and snow, and the whalefishes blow
And the daylights seldom seen, brave boys
And the daylights seldom seen.

still trying to digest the horrific events at virginia tech

here's a song that speaks to the hopes and fears, but mostly hopes of the american dream

a dream that seems a little more like a nightmare at present

American Tune
Paul Simon

Many's the time I've been mistaken, and many times confused
Yes and I've often felt forsaken, and certainly misused
Ah but I'm alright, I'm alright, I'm just weary to my bones
Still you don't expect to be bright and bon-vivant
So far away from home, so far away from home

And I don't know a soul who's not been battered
I don't have a friend who feels at ease
I don't know a dream that's not been shattered or driven to its knees
But it's alright, it's alright, for we lived so well, so long
Still, when I think of the road we're traveling on
I wonder what's gone wrong, I can't help it I wonder what's gone wrong

And I dreamed I was dying, I dreamed that my soul rose unexpectedly
And looking back down at me, smiled reassuringly
And I dreamed I was flying, and high up above my eyes could clearly see
The statue of liberty, sailing away to sea, and I dreamed I was flying

But we come on a ship they called Mayflower
We come on a ship that sailed the moon
We come in the ages' most uncertain hours and sing an American tune
And it's alright, oh it's alright, it's alright, you can be forever blessed
Still tomorrow's gonna be another working day and I'm trying to get some rest
That's all I'm trying, to get some rest

Farewell to Tarwathie
Words and Music by Judy Collins


Farewell to Tarwathie
Adieu Mormond Hill
And the dear land of Crimmond
I bid you farewell
I'm bound off for Greenland
And ready to sail
In hopes to find riches
In hunting the whale

Farewell to my comrades
For a while we must part
And likewise the dear lass
Who first won my heart
The cold coast of Greenland
My love will not chill
And the longer my absence
More loving she'll feel

Our ship is well rigged
And she's ready to sail
The crew they are anxious
To follow the whale
Where the icebergs do float
And the stormy winds blow
Where the land and the ocean
Is covered with snow

The cold coast of Greenland
Is barren and bare
No see time nor harvest
Is ever known there
And the birds here sing sweetly
In mountain and dale
But there's no bird in Greenland
To sing to the whale

There is no habitation
For a man to live there
And the king of that country
Is the fierce Greenland bear
And there'll be no temptation
To tarry long there
With our ship under full
We will homeward repair

Farewell to Tarwathie
Adieu Mormond Hill
And the dear land of Crimmond
I bid you farewell
I'm bound off for Greenland
And ready to sail
In hopes to find riches
In hunting the whale

we've had van gogh, cezzanne, why not magritte

Rene and Georgette Magritte with Their Dog After the War
Paul Simon

Rene and Georgette Magritte
With their dog after the war
Returned to their hotel suite
And they unlocked the door
Easily losing their evening clothes
They danced by the light of the moon
To the Penguins, the Moonglows
The Orioles, and The Five Satins
The deep forbidden music
They'd been longing for
Rene and Georgette Magritte
With their dog after the war

Rene and Georgette Magritte
With their dog after the war
Were strolling down Christopher Street
When they stopped in a men's store
With all of the mannequins dressed in the style
That brought tears to their immigrant eyes
Just like The Penguins, the Moonglows
The Orioles, and The Five Satins
The easy stream of laughter
Flowing through the air
Rene and Georgette Magritte
With their dog apres la guerre

Side by side
They fell asleep
Decades gliding by like Indians
Time is cheap
When they wake up they will find
All their personal belongings
Have intertwined
Oh Rene and Georgette Magritte
With their dog after the war
Were dining with the power elite
And they looked in their bedroom drawer
And what do you think
They have hidden away
In the cabinet cold of their hearts?
The Penguins, the Moonglows
The Orioles, and The Five SatinsFor now and ever after
As it was before
Rene and Georgette Magritte
With their dog after the war