I’m Not There
Sometimes you’re dead and sometimes you’re livin’
Sometimes you’re pickin’ and sometimes a-grinnin’
Sometimes you’re wishin’ and sometimes you’re fishin’
And sometimes you’re going home.
Songs beyond day and souls beyond givin’,
Sunsets in morning and sunrise at evenin’,
Saints are a-sinnin’ and sinners believin’,
And sometimes you’re going home.
It’s just like a wish and it’s like a dead fisher,
Just like that time when the missin’ will miss her,
Just like that circus when Jesus will kiss her,
And sometimes you’re going home.
Hear that buzzin’ in the mainstream.
Hear the cryin’ in your head.
Hear that thing when you’re livin’ and dyin’.
Hear that song and you’re dead.
Fish like a dish and the kiss of a woman,
Kiss like a mist and the lisp of come on,
Lisp like a twist and the mist of a turnon,
And sometimes you’re going home.
There’s a negro in the streetcar.
There’s a white man in the street.
There’s an Indian in Africa.
And sometimes you’re going home,
Mister Jones.
LWIII
this new blog is a song… anyone here write music?
Hey Claire, thanks for the comment! I watched the movie “I’m Not There” last night but missed a bunch of it, bouncing up and down to jot these lines. Dylan made me. I write music, but only for the nose harp.
xoxo!
I’d suspected that you had seen the Dylan movie based on your title and the words have a very Dylanish feel to them.
Dylanish – Far older than a Danish and a bit more political.
Reading the above song/poem reminds me of an entire book I just finished reading by Margaret Atwood which touches on death in writing and as part of the writing process. Seeing as the song is about going home and well all know where our eventual home is, it seems to fit.
“All writers learn from the dead. As long as you continue to write, you continue to explore the work of writers who have preceded your; you also feel judged and held to account by them. But you don’t learn only from writers – you can learn from ancestors in all their forms. Because the dead control the past, they control the stories, and also certain kinds of truth”
- Margaret Atwood
Negotiations with the Dead; A Writer on Writing
Don’t tarry too long in the cemetery for the hands of the dead will come looking for sacrifice, they always demand sacrifice.
Peace,
ClX
Howdy bro! So glad to see you. Was getting worried. Hope things are good out Cleveland way.
I’ll have to check out that Atwood book. Sounds marvelous. I’m not too worried about the dead demanding sacrifice, because life demands a sacrifice too. The universe always demands a sacrifice. The ancients knew that. Us moderns, not so much, so instead we sacrifice the entire ecosystem.
I’m trying to get up the gumption to sacrifice, but not much luck yet. Would be glad to sacrifice my laziness but nobody seems to want it.
Off to the cemetary to see what I can dig up!
Peace and Love,
LWIII
loved this Tom – I haven’t the time to say anything more than that. Your way with words is inspiring as always.
xo
la
Thanks la! I appreciate any comment from you, however pithy. Glad you liked it.
Peace out,
LWIII