Tag Archives: bob dylan

Music on Stage

Bob Dylan – One more Cup of Coffee

 Your breath is sweet
Your eyes are like two jewels in the sky
Your back is straight your hair is smooth
On the pillow where you lie
But I don’t sense affection
No gratitude or love
Your loyalty is not to me
But to the stars above

One more cup of coffee for the road
One more cup of coffee ‘fore I go.
To the valley below.

Your daddy he’s an outlaw
And a wanderer by trade
He’ll teach you how to pick and choose
And how to throw the blade
He oversees his kingdom
So no stranger does intrude
His voice it trembles as he calls out
For another plate of food.

One more cup of coffee for the road
One more cup of coffee ‘fore I go.
To the valley below.

Your sister sees the future 
Like your mama and yourself
You’ve never learned to read or write
There’s no books upon your shelf
And your pleasure knows no limits
Your voice is like a meadowlark
But your heart is like an ocean
Mysterious and dark.

One more cup of coffee for the road
One more cup of coffee ‘fore I go.
To the valley below.

Pics of the Week

 

 

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hmm… we’re going or not??

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Morning at the bus stop!

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Dinner at “the Perfect Bun”IMG938IMG_20131010_215026

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Waiting for the bus1387878_220806084754562_43880880_n1380993_220806091421228_541600954_n

 

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Calatrava Bridge, Garbatella1376824_220806834754487_328026436_n1379116_220806854754485_630717545_n1368913_220806861421151_256905184_n

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Calatrava Bridge, Grabatella.1371526_220806848087819_487872366_n1373422_220806071421230_513373041_n1374580_220806011421236_144275457_n1374607_220806048087899_649572398_n1376304_220806831421154_1232567554_n1376879_220806811421156_1593536531_n

 

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Five years of frienship!!

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30 Seconds to Mars @Hollywood Bowl live via VyRT IMG946IMG945

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8:00 AM just finished to watch VyRT !

 

Music on Stage

Mr. Tambourine Man

Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me, 
I’m not sleepy and there is no place I’m going to. 
Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me, 
In the jingle jangle morning I’ll come followin’ you. 

Though I know that evenin’s empire has returned into sand, 
Vanished from my hand, 
Left me blindly here to stand but still not sleeping. 
My weariness amazes me, I’m branded on my feet, 
I have no one to meet 
And the ancient empty street’s too dead for dreaming. 

Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me, 
I’m not sleepy and there is no place I’m going to. 
Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me, 
In the jingle jangle morning I’ll come followin’ you. 

Take me on a trip upon your magic swirlin’ ship, 
My senses have been stripped, my hands can’t feel to grip, 
My toes too numb to step, wait only for my boot heels 
To be wanderin’. 
I’m ready to go anywhere, I’m ready for to fade 
Into my own parade, cast your dancing spell my way, 
I promise to go under it. 

Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me, 
I’m not sleepy and there is no place I’m going to. 
Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me, 
In the jingle jangle morning I’ll come followin’ you. 

Though you might hear laughin’, spinnin’, swingin’ madly across the sun, 
It’s not aimed at anyone, it’s just escapin’ on the run 
And but for the sky there are no fences facin’. 
And if you hear vague traces of skippin’ reels of rhyme 
To your tambourine in time, it’s just a ragged clown behind, 
I wouldn’t pay it any mind, it’s just a shadow you’re 
Seein’ that he’s chasing. 

Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me, 
I’m not sleepy and there is no place I’m going to. 
Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me, 
In the jingle jangle morning I’ll come followin’ you. 

Then take me disappearin’ through the smoke rings of my mind, 
Down the foggy ruins of time, far past the frozen leaves, 
The haunted, frightened trees, out to the windy beach, 
Far from the twisted reach of crazy sorrow. 
Yes, to dance beneath the diamond sky with one hand waving free, 
Silhouetted by the sea, circled by the circus sands, 
With all memory and fate driven deep beneath the waves, 
Let me forget about today until tomorrow. 

Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me, 
I’m not sleepy and there is no place I’m going to. 
Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me, 
In the jingle jangle morning I’ll come followin’ you. 

Irwin Allen Ginsberg

Irwin Allen Ginsberg was born in 1926 in New Jersey, to a Jewish family: his father was a poet and his mother was suffering from a rare psychological illness never properly diagnosed. Mom was an active member of the Communist Party and took her children with her to the meetings of the party. Ginsberg early age writes letters on political issues on the New York Times. After a long bus trip with her ​​mother to join the therapist of the latter, Ginsberg wrote a biographical poem, “Kaddish for Naomi.”

Important literary figure in his path toward literature, was the poet Walt Whitman. He went to Columbia University with a scholarship from the “Young Men’s Hebrew Association” of Paterson, but in order to continue his studies at the prestigious university was forced to enlist in the merchant navy. During his university years he worked on Ginsberg’s literary magazine “Columbia” and that of humor, “Jester”, in addition to being the president of the “Philolexian Society” discussion group lettararia, and win the prize “Woodberry Poetry Prize.” The roommate, Lucien Carr, he knows some of the Beat writers, including Jack Kerouac and William S. Burroughs. All of them were bound together by a “new vision” for literature and America. Carr became known Ginsberg and Neal Cassady, their meeting is narrated by Kerouac in his wonderful novel On The Road. In Harlem in 1948, Ginsberg had an auditory hallucination while reading a poem by William Blake. The American poet initially thought he heard the voice of God, but then recognized it as the voice of the same Blake. Later, he tried to revive this sensory experience through the use of various drugs.In Greenwich Village, the “Pony Stable”, the first openly lesbian bar, he met Gregory Corso, just out of prison. Ginsberg was very impressed by the poems of course and presented to members of the beat scene.

In 1954, in San Francisco, he met and fell in love with Peter Orlovsky. There he met members of the San Francisco Renaissance and other Beat poets. The following year, the artist and co-founder of the “Six Gallery”, Wally Hedrick, and proposed to organize a poetry reading at the gallery. Here, October 13, 1955, during the series of events of the “Mythos Beat,” there was the first public reading of “Howl”, the poem that gave worldwide fame Ginsberg. Howl was considered scandalous at the time of the publication of a text because of the crudeness of the language that is often very explicit. Incipit is a clear reference to Carl Solomon, Dadaist writer who had met while in prison to the asylum at Rockland. Shortly after publication, the book was banned, and this was removed after Judge Clayton W. Horn said that the poem was a social protest.

In 1957, after a short period in Morocco, Ginsberg and Peter Orlovsky settled in Paris above a bar at 9 rue Git-le-Coeur, known as the “Beat Hotel”. It was a period of great creativity for Ginsberg’s poem “Kaddish”, Corso composed “Bomb” and “Marriage” and Burroughs picked up his writings in “Naked Lunch.” In 1959 he founded the literary journal “Beatitude” in with poets John Kelly, Bob Kaufman, AD Winans, and William Margolis. In May of 1965, in London, offered to Better Books to read anywhere for free. Thus was born the program for the International Poetry Incarnation, reading, which was held at the Royal Albert Hall in June of the same year. The event, which drew about 7,000 people to attend readings and performances, attended by poets such as Adrian Mitchell, Alexander Trocchi, Gregory Corso, Lawrence Ferlinghetti, Spike Hawkins and William Burroughs. The music and singing were important elements that accompanied the poet during the reading of his poetry. Ginsberg was point of contact between the Beat movement and the hippies. He was a friend of Timothy Leary, Ken Kesey, and Bob Dylan.

Crucial to her spiritual journey was the trip to India and a chance meeting in New York with Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche, a Tibetan Buddhist meditation master. Ginsberg was also involved with the Krishnaism, through his friendship with AC Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupada, founder of the Hare Krishna movement. Ginsberg donated money, materials, and his reputation to help the Swami to build the first temple, accompanying him in the promotional tour.
Ginsberg won the National Book Award for his book “The Fall” and in 1993 he was awarded by the French Minister of Culture medal of Chevalier des Arts et des Lettres. The last public reading he gave was at the NYU Poetry Slam in February 1997. He died April 5, 1997, a few days after I wrote the last poem of “Things I’ll Not Do (Nostalgias).”

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Irwin Allen Ginsberg nasce nel 1926, nel New Jersey, da una famiglia ebraica: il padre era poeta e la madre era affetta da una rara malattia psicologica mai correttamente diagnosticata. La mamma era un membro attivo del Partito Comunista e portava con sé i figli alle riunioni del partito. Ginsberg già da giovanissimo scrive lettere su questioni politiche al New York Times. Dopo un lungo viaggio in autobus con la madre per raggiungere il terapeuta di quest’ultima, Ginsberg scriverà un poema biografico: “Kaddish per Naomi”.

Figura letteraria fondamentale nel suo percorso di avvicinamento alla letteratura, fu il poeta Walt Whitman. Entrò alla Columbia University con una borsa di studio ottenuta dalla “Young Men’s Hebrew Association” di Paterson, ma per poter continuare gli studi presso la prestigiosa università fu costretto ad arruolarsi nella marina mercantile. Durante gli anni universitari Ginsberg lavorò alla rivista letteraria “Columbia” e a quella di umorismo “Jester”, oltre ad essere il presidente della “Philolexian Society”, gruppo di discussione lettararia, e a vincere il premio “Woodberry Poetry Prize”. Il compagno di stanza, Lucien Carr, gli fece conosce alcuni scrittori beat, tra cui Jack Kerouac e William S. Burroughs. Tutti loro erano legati tra loro da una “nuova visione” per la letteratura e l’America. Carr fece conoscere Ginsberg e Neal Cassady; il loro incontro viene raccontato da Kerouac nel suo bellissimo romanzo On The Road. Ad Harlem, nel 1948, Ginsberg ebbe un’allucinazione uditiva durante la lettura di una poesia di William Blake. Il poeta americano inizialmente pensò di aver sentito la voce di Dio, ma poi la riconobbe come la voce dello stesso Blake. In seguito, cercò di rivivere questa esperienza sensoriale attraverso l’uso di diverse droghe. A Greenwich Village, al “Pony Stable”, il primo bar apertamente lesbico, conobbe Gregory Corso, appena uscito di prigione. Ginsberg rimase molto colpito dalle poesie di Corso e lo presentò ai membri della scena beat.

Nel 1954, a San Francisco, conobbe Peter Orlovsky e se ne innamorò. Qui incontrò i membri della San Francisco Renaissance e altri poeti beat. L’anno successivo il pittore e co-fondatore della “Galleria Six”, Wally Hedrick, gli propose di organizzare una lettura di poesie presso la galleria. Qui, il 13 ottobre 1955, durante la serie di eventi della “Mythos Beat”, ci fu la prima lettura pubblica di “Howl”, la poesia che ha data fama mondiale a Ginsberg. Howl fu considerato un testo scandaloso all’epoca della pubblicazione per via della crudezza del linguaggio che è spesso molto esplicito. Nell’incipit è chiaro il riferimento a Carl Solomon, scrittore dadaista che aveva conosciuto durante la reclusione nel manicomio di Rockland. Poco dopo la pubblicazione il testo fu messo al bando; questo fu tolto dopo che il giudice Clayton W. Horn dichiarò che il poema era una denuncia sociale.

Nel 1957, dopo un breve periodo in Marocco, Ginsberg e Peter Orlovsky si stabilirono a Parigi sopra un bar al numero 9 di Rue Git-le-Coeur, noto come il “Beat Hotel”. Fu un periodo di grande creatività: Ginsberg fini il poema “Kaddish”, Corso compose “Bomb” e “Marriage” e Burroughs raccolse i suoi scritti in “Naked Lunch”. Nel 1959 fondò la rivista letteraria “Beatitude” con in poeti John Kelly, Bob Kaufman, A.D. Winans e William Margolis. Nel maggio del 1965, a Londra, si offrì alla Better Books di leggere ovunque gratuitamente. Nacque così il programma per l’International Poetry Incarnation, lettura che si tenne presso la Royal Albert Hall nel giugno dello stesso anno. All’evento, che aveva attirato circa 7.000 persone ad assistere a letture e spettacoli, parteciparono poeti come: Adrian Mitchell, Alexander Trocchi, Gregory Corso, Lawrence Ferlinghetti, Spike Hawkins e William Burroughs. La musica e il canto furono elementi importanti che accompagnarono il poeta durante le letture delle sue poesia. Ginsberg fu punto di contatto tra il movimento Beat e gli Hippy. Egli fu amico di Timothy Leary, Ken Kesey e Bob Dylan.

Fondamentale per il suo percorso spirituale fu il viaggio in India e l’incontro casuale a New York con Chögyam Trungpa Rinpoche, maestro tibetano di meditazione buddhista. Ginsberg fu anche coinvolto con il Krishnaismo, grazie all’amicizia con AC Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupada fondatore del movimento Hare Krishna. Ginsberg donò denaro, materiali e la sua fama per aiutare lo Swami a costruire il primo tempio, accompagnandolo nel tour promozionale.

Ginsberg vince il National Book Award per il libro “The Fall” e nel 1993 gli venne assegnato dal ministro francese della Cultura la medaglia di Chevalier des Arts et des Lettres. L’ultima lettura pubblica che diede fu alla NYU Poetry Slam nel febbraio 1997. Morì il 5 aprile 1997, alcuni giorni dopo aver scritto la su ultima poesia “Things I’ll Not Do (Nostalgias)”.

(Images from Web)

Chiara

 

Music on Stage

Bob Dylan & Allen Ginsberg – Vomit Express

 

Ìm going down to Puerto Rico

Ìm going down on the midnight plane

Ìm going down on the Vomit Express

Ìm going down with my suitcase pain.

 

You can take an ancient vacation

Fly over Floridàs deep-blue end

Rise up out of this mad-house nation

Ìm going down with my oldest tender friend

 

Ìm going down to Puerto Rico

Ìm going down on the midnight plane

Ìm going down on the Vomit Express

Ìm going down with my suitcase pain.

 

We know each other now twenty years,

Seen murders, and we wept tears

Now wère gonna take ourselves a little bit of free time

Wandering round the southern poverty clime

 

Ìm going down to Puerto Rico

Ìm going down on the midnight plane

Ìm going down on the Vomit Express

Ìm going down with my suitcase pain.

 

Start flyin’ with all the poor, old, sick ladies

Everybody in the plane are drunk, and they’re crazy

Flyin’ home to die in the wobbly air

All night long, they wanted the cheapest fare.

 

Ìm going down to Puerto Rico

Ìm going down on the old midnight plane

Ìm going down on the Vomit Express

Ìm going down with my suitcase pain.

 

When wère down on the air field, Ìve never been there,

Except once walkin’ around the air field

In the great, wet heat,

Walk out, smell that old mother-load of shit from the tropics

Stomach growl, oh friends, beware.

 

Ìm going down to Puerto Rico

Ìm going down on the midnight plane

Ìm going down on the Vomit Express

Ìm going down with my suitcase pain.

 

Me and my friend, no we won’t even drink,

And I won’t eat meat,

Gonna walk the streets alone,

Cars will blink and wink

Taxìs, buses and US gas all around.

 

Ìm going down to Puerto Rico

Ìm going down on the midnight plane

Ìm going down on the Vomit Express

Ìm going down with my suitcase pain.

 

Start [read] poetry at the university, meet kids,

Look at their breasts, touch their hands, kiss their heads

Seen from the heart, maybe the four buddhist normal truths

“Existence is suffering”, it ends when yoùre dead —

 

Ìm going down to Puerto Rico

Ìm going down on the midnight plane

Ìm going down on the Vomit Express

Ìm going down with my suitcase pain.

 

Go out, walk up on the mountain, see the green rain

Imagine that forest, finds, get lost,

Sit cross-legged and meditate on old love pain,

Watch every old love turn to gold.

 

Ìm going down to Puerto Rico

Ìm going down on the midnight plane

Ìm going down on the Vomit Express

Ìm going down with my suitcase pain.

 

See raindrops and the jungle rainbow, dancin’ men;  

Brown legs walk around on the mud road

Far from US smog, war, again

Sit down, empty mind, vomit my holy load

 

Ìm going down to Puerto Rico

Ìm going down on the midnight plane

Ìm going down on the Vomit Express

Ìm going down with my suitcase pain.

 

Come back to earth, walk the streets in [shark/sharp?]

Smoke some grass and eat me some cock

Kiss the mouth of the sweetest boy I can see

Who shows me his white teeth and brown skin joy

 

Ìm going down to Puerto Rico

Ìm going down on the midnight plane

Ìm going down on the Vomit Express

Ìm going down with my suitcase pain.

 

Go find my old friend, wèll go to the museum,

Talk ’bout politics with the cats, and ask for revolution,

Get back on the plane and chant high in the sky

Back to earth, to New York garbage streets and fly

 

Ìm going down to Puerto Rico

Ìm going down on the midnight plane

Ìm going down on the Vomit Express

Ìm going down with my suitcase pain.

 

Ìm gonna come back with ???

At New York’s electrical eternity here

Pull the air-conditioner plug from the wall

Sit down with my straight spine and pray

 

Ìm going down to Puerto Rico

Ìm going down on the midnight plane

Ìm going down on the Vomit Express

Ìm going down with my suitcase pain.