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RexRed
When I was much younger, I had not a friend in the world. I knew the despair you write about. But, believe me, it will come out all right in the end. Don't assume we don't like you here, just because you haven't been assured by each one of us. Until today, I had no idea you were thinking such thoughts. You will find a niche and be just fine if you don't give way to desperation.

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This is the one thread I always come to because it is a place where we all respect the concept of music, poetry and camaraderie.

Not one of has ever tried to put forth a personal agenda. Not one of us ever puts his or her personal trials on this thread. It is a refuge from the negativity of so many of the threads on A2K (not that they aren't of value--they just get tiresome after a while).

WA2K is where friends meet; friends who respect the need for polite, intelligent diversion. Sometimes the songs or poems are elegies to tragic lives or events, yet they don't demand attention or response. They stand on their own merit without causing a rift in the overall tone of WA2K, nor do they force a religious or moral code on a delightfully eclectic group of individuals.

WA2K has lasted longer than most any thread. Letty, of course, is the wonderful host who finds something to praise in everyone. For the rest, our open attitude and careful tending to something akin to a garden is what has made it so long-standing.

I tend to ramble. Djjd62 said it so well and so succinctly.

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Dj

I'm the writer Smile

Most people don't have to defend each chapter they write they just publish the book and it goes where it will...

This book is not just a paten place book it has it's elements of horror and remorse. As with most horrors there must be some sort of spiritual element that comes into the pages and puts a slant on it that brings it often into the theatre of the absurd.

I need to feel free to write these elements into this book and I can't have Dys and others (and there would be more) fighting me over the plotline.

Otherwise books like the exorcist and pet cemetery to name a only a couple would never have been written. Because they are "RELIGIOUS" OOooooo...

When I feel pressured or stifled as an artist I lash out...

I am really not here to please someone else's vision (unless it is productive) but to stay true as best I can the to forces that have guided me so far in the many years that I have been writing my thoughts and music.

Also, there are already enough books written about unsuccessful writers...

The plot has not even begun to unfold in this book. It is new and completely original and I would rather just write the book rather than defend it before it is even finished...

Something to Say

Here comes that same old sadness again
That I have to try and write it away
It's measured by misery
And repaired by constant love
Time heals the wounds the black and the gray
With charity for the uncharted soul

CHORUS
I don't know why
I just don't cry
And cry my tears away
But through the right and the wrong
Came this sad song
I guess I had something to say

Here comes that same old broken heart for me
From a fallen and fond memory
The rising river the rising tide
Confined freedom at fears side
The world starts to crumble
You wonder if there's a way
Believing for a better day

I don't know why
I just don't cry
And cry my tears away
But through the right and the wrong
Came this sad song
I guess I had something to say

Here comes that same old loneliness this time
That distance brings like seasons change
A stray breeze in the night
A solitary gull in flight
Seen in the faces of the only
Who are abandoned in a dream

I don't know why
I just don't cry
And cry my tears away
But through the right and the wrong
Came this sad song
I guess I had something to say

Eric Pedersen
Written 2/17/84
Copyright 1987

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Diane wrote:

This is the one thread I always come to because it is a place where we all respect the concept of music, poetry and camaraderie.

Not one of has ever tried to put forth a personal agenda. Not one of us ever puts his or her personal trials on this thread. It is a refuge from the negativity of so many of the threads on A2K (not that they aren't of value--they just get tiresome after a while).

WA2K is where friends meet; friends who respect the need for polite, intelligent diversion. Sometimes the songs or poems are elegies to tragic lives or events, yet they don't demand attention or response. They stand on their own merit without causing a rift in the overall tone of WA2K, nor do they force a religious or moral code on a delightfully eclectic group of individuals.

WA2K has lasted longer than most any thread. Letty, of course, is the wonderful host who finds something to praise in everyone. For the rest, our open attitude and careful tending to something akin to a garden is what has made it so long-standing.

I tend to ramble. Djjd62 said it so well and so succinctly.

So you are defending Dys for his cut directed at me?
I did not direct any cut toward him...

He might have well have said my writing sucked...

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edgarblythe wrote:

RexRed
When I was much younger, I had not a friend in the world. I knew the despair you write about. But, believe me, it will come out all right in the end. Don't assume we don't like you here, just because you haven't been assured by each one of us. Until today, I had no idea you were thinking such thoughts. You will find a niche and be just fine if you don't give way to desperation.

Thanks, I love you all...

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Well, the deputy walks on hard nails and the preacher rides a mount
But nothing really matters much, it's doom alone that counts
And the one-eyed undertaker, he blows a futile horn.
"Come in," she said,
"I'll give you shelter from the storm."

I've heard newborn babies wailin' like a mournin' dove
And old men with broken teeth stranded without love.
Do I understand your question, man, is it hopeless and forlorn?
"Come in," she said,
"I'll give you shelter from the storm."

In a little hilltop village, they gambled for my clothes
I bargained for salvation an' they gave me a lethal dose.
I offered up my innocence and got repaid with scorn.
"Come in," she said,
"I'll give you shelter from the storm."

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One Monday morning I got up late
And there was mister Monkey outside me gate
One Monday morning I got up late
And there was mister Monkey outside me gate
Don't know what to say de Monkey won't do,
Don't know what to say de Monkey won't do,
Don't know what to say de Monkey won't do,
Don't know what to say de Monkey won't do,

My girl came over to have a drink,
I came downstairs and what do you think
Monkey had run and he let her in,
And pour her a glass of me favorite gin
Don't know what to say de Monkey won't do,
Don't know what to say de Monkey won't do,
Don't know what to say de Monkey won't do,
Don't know what to say de Monkey won't do,

I ran to de yard to get a stick
I'm telling you friends that Monkey was quick
'Cause when I return, much to my disgrace,
The Monkey had me gal in a mad embrace
Don't know what to say de Monkey won't do,
Don't know what to say de Monkey won't do,
Don't know what to say de Monkey won't do,
Don't know what to say de Monkey won't do,

I went to me bath for a Burma Shave,
This Monkey gonna put me inna me grave,
The entire can 'net was laid to waste
I had to shave with some Gleem tooth paste
Don't know what to say de Monkey won't do,
Don't know what to say de Monkey won't do,
Don't know what to say de Monkey won't do,
Don't know what to say de Monkey won't do,

Well by this time I was in despair
I was using the shoe brush to brush me hair
I ask him to leave but he stayed around
He pulled the chain and I almost went down,
Don't know what to say de Monkey won't do,
Don't know what to say de Monkey won't do,
Don't know what to say de Monkey won't do,
Don't know what to say de Monkey won't do,

Me patience run out and I'm tellin' you sure,
Tomorrow I'm gonna show dat Monkey de door,
And' if he don't leave I'm invitin' you
To my house for dumplings an' Monkey stew
Don't know what to say de Monkey won't do,
Don't know what to say de Monkey won't do,
Don't know what to say de Monkey won't do,
Don't know what to say de Monkey won't do,

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Thunderton Road

When I was just a lad
About six years old
Went with my dad
And our fishing poles
We went down
To the watering hole
On the other side
Of the Thunderton road

When I grew to be
A younger son
My buddies and I
Would have some fun
We'd take our cars
Out for a ride
On the other side
Of the Thunderton road

On the Thunderton road
The Thunderton road
Good ol' American pride
Could never be denied
We were young
And life was high
One the other side
Of the Thunderton road

Well soon I put
Away my childish ways
I sill think back
On those summer days
Well I met a girl
A prom queen bride
On the other side
Of the Thunderton road

Now I've grown in years
And I have a son
I do the same
That my daddy done
We go and fish
At the watering hole
On the other side
Of the Thunderton road

On the Thunderton road
The Thunderton road
Good ol' American pride
Could never be denied
We were young
And life was high
One the other side
Of the Thunderton road

Eric Pedersen (RexRed) 8/2/04

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BALLAD OF THUNDER ROAD - written and performed by Robert Mitchum

Let me tell the story, I can tell it all
About the mountain boy who ran illegal alcohol
His daddy made the whiskey, son, he drove the load
When his engine roared, they called the highway Thunder Road.

Sometimes into Ashville, sometimes Memphis town
The revenoors chased him but they couldn't run him down
Each time they thought they had him, his engine would explode
He'd go by like they were standin' still on Thunder Road.

(CHORUS)
And there was thunder, thunder over Thunder Road
Thunder was his engine, and white lightning was his load
There was moonshine, moonshine to quench the Devil's thirst
The law they swore they'd get him, but the Devil got him first.

On the first of April, nineteen fifty-four
A Federal man sent word he'd better make his run no more
He said two hundred agents were coverin' the state
Whichever road he tried to take, they'd get him sure as fate.

Son, his Daddy told him, make this run your last
The tank is filled with hundred-proof, you're all tuned up and gassed
Now, don't take any chances, if you can't get through
I'd rather have you back again than all that mountain dew.

(CHORUS)

Roarin' out of Harlan, revvin' up his mill
He shot the gap at Cumberland, and screamed by Maynordsville
With T-men on his taillights, roadblocks up ahead
The mountain boy took roads that even Angels feared to tred.

Blazing right through Knoxville, out on Kingston Pike,
Then right outside of Bearden, they made the fatal strike.
He left the road at 90; that's all there is to say.
The devil got the moonshine and the mountain boy that day.

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Bob Dylan - Knocking On Heavens Door Lyrics

Mama take this badge from me
I cant use it any more.
It's getting dark to dark to see
feels like I m knocking on heavens door.

knock knock knocking on heavens door
knock knock knocking on heavens door
knock knock knocking on heavens door
knock knock knocking on heavens door

Mama put my guns in the groundI cant shoot them any more
That dark black gloud i comming down,
feels like I m knocking on heavens door

knock knock knocking on heavens door
knock knock knocking on heavens door
knock knock knocking on heavens door
knock knock knocking on heavens door

Comment:
Dys maybe Dylan should have omitted the word "heaven" from this song...

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Gotta Serve Somebody

You may be an ambassador to England or France,
You may like to gamble, you might like to dance,
You may be the heavyweight champion of the world,
You may be a socialite with a long string of pearls

But you're gonna have to serve somebody, yes indeed
You're gonna have to serve somebody,
Well, it may be the devil or it may be the Lord
But you're gonna have to serve somebody.

You might be a rock 'n' roll addict prancing on the stage,
You might have drugs at your command, women in a cage,
You may be a business man or some high degree thief,
They may call you Doctor or they may call you Chief

But you're gonna have to serve somebody, yes indeed
You're gonna have to serve somebody,
Well, it may be the devil or it may be the Lord
But you're gonna have to serve somebody.

You may be a state trooper, you might be a young Turk,
You may be the head of some big TV network,
You may be rich or poor, you may be blind or lame,
You may be living in another country under another name

But you're gonna have to serve somebody, yes indeed
You're gonna have to serve somebody,
Well, it may be the devil or it may be the Lord
But you're gonna have to serve somebody.

You may be a construction worker working on a home,
You may be living in a mansion or you might live in a dome,
You might own guns and you might even own tanks,
You might be somebody's landlord, you might even own banks

But you're gonna have to serve somebody, yes indeed
You're gonna have to serve somebody,
Well, it may be the devil or it may be the Lord
But you're gonna have to serve somebody.

You may be a preacher with your spiritual pride,
You may be a city councilman taking bribes on the side,
You may be workin' in a barbershop, you may know how to cut hair,
You may be somebody's mistress, may be somebody's heir

But you're gonna have to serve somebody, yes indeed
You're gonna have to serve somebody,
Well, it may be the devil or it may be the Lord
But you're gonna have to serve somebody.

Might like to wear cotton, might like to wear silk,
Might like to drink whiskey, might like to drink milk,
You might like to eat caviar, you might like to eat bread,
You may be sleeping on the floor, sleeping in a king-sized bed

But you're gonna have to serve somebody, yes indeed
You're gonna have to serve somebody,
Well, it may be the devil or it may be the Lord
But you're gonna have to serve somebody.

You may call me Terry, you may call me Timmy,
You may call me Bobby, you may call me Zimmy,
You may call me R.J., you may call me Ray,
You may call me anything but no matter what you say

You're gonna have to serve somebody, yes indeed
You're gonna have to serve somebody.
Well, it may be the devil or it may be the Lord
But you're gonna have to serve somebody.

Bob Dylan

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Dys would never change Dylan's lyrics because he truly values them for what they are and respects the man who wrote them.

Let's get back to what this thread is all about--songs and poetry.

Boots Of Spanish LeatherBob Dylan lyrics

Oh, I'm sailin' away my own true love
I'm sailin' away in the morning
Is there something I can send you from across the sea
From the place that I'll be landing

No, there's nothin' you can send me, my own true love
There's nothin' I wishin' to be ownin'
Just carry yourself back to me unspoiled
From across that lonesome ocean

Oh, but I just thought you might want something fine
Made of silver or of golden
Either from the mountains of Madrid
Or from the coast of Barcelona

But if I had the stars from the darkest night
And the diamonds from the deepest ocean
I'd forsake them all for your sweet kiss
For that's all I'm wishin' to be ownin'

That I might be gone a long time
And it's only that I'm askin'
Is there something I can send you to remember me by
To make your time more easy passin'

Oh, how can, how can you ask me again
It only brings me sorrow
The same thing I would want today
I would want again tomorrow

Oh, I got a letter on a lonesome day
It was from her ship a-sailin'
Saying, I don't know when I'll be comin' back again
It depends on how I'm a-feelin'

If you, my love, must think that-a-way
I'm sure your mind is roarmin'
I'm sure your thoughts are not with me
But with the country to where you're goin'

So take heed, take heed of the western winds
Take heed of the stormy weather
And yes, there's something you can send back to me
Spanish boots of Spanish leather

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TING-A-LING
(Buddy Holly)
BUDDY HOLLY (Decca 30650, 1958)

Well now I'm just a poor young boy
And these girls' bound to drive me wild
Yeah I'm just a poor young boy
And these girls' bound to drive me wild
Yeah I-I'm just a poor young boy
And these girls' bound to drive me wild
The way they rock and roll and call me angel-child
The way they laugh, the way they sing
Makes my heart go ting-a-ling
The way they laugh, the way they sing
Makes my heart go ting-a-ling
The way they laugh, the way they sing
Makes my heart go ting-a-ling
Ting-a-ling, ting-a-ling, ting-a-ling, ting-a-ling, tin-a-ling

Oh well, I'm young and I'm free
And it's a real fine way to be
Yeah I'm young and I'm free
And it's a real fine way to be
Yeah I-I'm young and I-I'm free
And it's a real fine way to be
I want a fine young girl that is so nice and free
The way they laugh, the way they sing
Makes my heart go ting-a-ling
The way they laugh, the way they sing
Makes my heart go ting-a-ling
The way they laugh, the way they sing
Makes my heart go ting-a-ling
Ting-a-ling, ting-a-ling, ting-a-ling, ting-a-ling, ting-a-ling

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Diane wrote:

Dys would never change Dylan's lyrics because he truly values them for what they are and respects the man who wrote them.

Let's get back to what this thread is all about--songs and poetry.

Boots Of Spanish LeatherBob Dylan lyrics

Oh, I'm sailin' away my own true love
I'm sailin' away in the morning
Is there something I can send you from across the sea
From the place that I'll be landing

No, there's nothin' you can send me, my own true love
There's nothin' I wishin' to be ownin'
Just carry yourself back to me unspoiled
From across that lonesome ocean

Oh, but I just thought you might want something fine
Made of silver or of golden
Either from the mountains of Madrid
Or from the coast of Barcelona

But if I had the stars from the darkest night
And the diamonds from the deepest ocean
I'd forsake them all for your sweet kiss
For that's all I'm wishin' to be ownin'

That I might be gone a long time
And it's only that I'm askin'
Is there something I can send you to remember me by
To make your time more easy passin'

Oh, how can, how can you ask me again
It only brings me sorrow
The same thing I would want today
I would want again tomorrow

Oh, I got a letter on a lonesome day
It was from her ship a-sailin'
Saying, I don't know when I'll be comin' back again
It depends on how I'm a-feelin'

If you, my love, must think that-a-way
I'm sure your mind is roarmin'
I'm sure your thoughts are not with me
But with the country to where you're goin'

So take heed, take heed of the western winds
Take heed of the stormy weather
And yes, there's something you can send back to me
Spanish boots of Spanish leather

Dys would have been with the others booing him off stage "remember"?

Maybe you can stick up for his rudeness to me then play all happy happy but I don't have to sit and take it from YOU or him...

Remember that...

You stuck your foot in it and I will finish it...

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Hi Rex. Nothing like a scrap to clear the air. This is an open forum. I think you know I have no antipathy toward you. I don't think it's necessary to throw down the gauntlet. You're defending your own creation and are therefore more sensitive as everyone would be. I for one would be sorry to have you exit in this fashion. You've painted a picture of yourself as standing alone (against the world?). If loneliness is your aim so be it. It would be naive to expect everyone to view it as you do. If you believe in it let it stand on it's own.

There are a good number of bright caring people here. I urge you to stay and use them. If you think this makes sense, tell me. If you think this has no merit whatsoever, tell me. We hurt ourselves much more than anyone else can. Healing is better. Hope you stay.

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Mother Nature's Son

Born a poor young country boy--Mother Nature's son
All day long I'm sitting singing songs for everyone.

Sit beside a mountain stream--see her waters rise
Listen to the pretty sound of music as she flies.

Find me in my field of grass--Mother Nature's son
Swaying daises sing a lazy song beneath the sun.

Mother Nature's son.

Beatles

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Letty wrote:

Well, upon my word, folks. McTag has run off with the chamber maid and pot. <smile> I do suspect that he knows that we know something of Wigan. Sheeeeze. Sports?

Good morning, dys. Wow! That is one eerie song, poem? Virginia's will- o- the wisp, I suppose.

I'm back from Wigan now.

The song I was thinking of is Paul Simon's

I'm sittin' at the railway station
Got a ticket for my destination.....

I wish I was
Homeward bound...."

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Good morning, WA2K radio listeners and contributors.

First, let me thank you all for your music and comments.

This is my quiet time, which I truly covet.

Most of you here, by now, realize that WA2K radio was created to host all countries and to allow all to express their opinions and, of course, to listen to the music, both requested and spontaneous.

What we bring to our virtual radio is the actual format of a real station which I know and understand quite well.

Often, without realizing it, we become catalysts for unpleasantness, and that is to be expected, my friends.

It seems that Fats Domino is safe and that is good. He is a high profile entertainer, so naturally we become instantly aware of his situation.

Rex, I want you to understand that it is quite natural for Diane to quietly rise to dys' defense, and neither you nor I, nor anyone here would expect otherwise, so please let's try and control our rancor that often emerges in times of tension and stress in the world.

I will try later, listeners, to acknowledge each input personally, but right at the moment, I am simply trying to get everything together, because I have a big decision to make today, and frankly, I don't know which way to go.

I hope that Francis will return to our station and that the simple picture of September Morn has not touched a nerve. I remember it because my mom used to refer to it rather than say, "nude". I have to smile now, because I understand, finally, why she was a tacit woman.

Good to see our Brit is back, and hope that his day trip was pleasant. Don't know that Paul Simon song, Manchester. Thanks for reminding us.

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Don't know that Paul Simon song, Manchester. Thanks for reminding us.

-Yes you do, I'm sure you do.

It's an oldish one from Simon & Garfunkel

According to local rumour and legend, Paul Simon wrote it before he was famous, while he was a travelling troubador and busking round the folk clubs of England, at Wigan Wallgate station.

googled for complete lyrics:

I'm sitting in the railway station.
Got a ticket to my destination.
On a tour of one-night stands my suitcase and guitar in hand.
And ev'ry stop is neatly planned for a poet and a one-man band.
Homeward bound,
I wish I was,
Homeward bound,
Home where my thought's escaping,
Home where my music's playing,
Home where my love lies waiting
Silently for me.
Ev'ry day's an endless stream
Of cigarettes and magazines.
And each town looks the same to me, the movies and the factories
And ev'ry stranger's face I see reminds me that I long to be,
Homeward bound,
I wish I was,
Homeward bound,
Home where my thought's escaping,
Home where my music's playing,
Home where my love lies waiting
Silently for me.

Tonight I'll sing my songs again,
I'll play the game and pretend.
But all my words come back to me in shades of mediocrity
Like emptiness in harmony I need someone to comfort me.
Homeward bound,
I wish I was,
Homeward bound,
Home where my thought's escaping,
Home where my music's playing,
Home where my love lies waiting
Silently for me.
Silently for me.

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