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Just as I thinking of you, I saw a black stone…

Posted in Blogroll, song on April 29, 2007 by clartedubois

And a song came to my mind…

Black velvet. In French, for once.

I was again, walking with Ben and Camden…

The dirt road is a dust road, now.

The farmer was turning the hay, again.

And again, I had some sorrow.

Again, I was fighting those destructive repetitive thoughts…

The merry go round of sad thoughts..

Dissapointed by a friend.

Hoping he would understand.

(He has, at least he shows some mercy.)

He had already help me so much, you see.

As you are away.

Life isn’t easy, we know.

Your sadness hurts me so much.

And I never seem to find the right words.

Just to tell you, I wish you to find back the wonders of life.

O! I wish it with all my heart.

And I am in such a struggle to send you love.

It is a fight.

Against my own despair.

It was so easy to do so, when I started to know you.

There are days, where I feel it again.

Blessed days.

This is that beautiful sad song of Hugues Aufray…

J’accrocherai à ma porte un velours noir
Pour fermer ma maison
Je tendrai ma fenêtre de velours noir
Pour fermer ma maison
Je voilerai les miroirs de velours noir
Pour fermer ma maison
Et je mettrai des roses, des roses noires
Dans ma maison

Dans ma maison, désormais vide
Dans ma maison, désormais vide

Il n’y aura plus de place pour le soleil
Si un jour tu m’oublies
Il n’y aura plus de place pour le soleil
Si tu m’oubliesJe chausserai mes bottes de fin cuir noir
Pour pleurer nos amours
Je prendrai ma carabine, mes éperons noirs
Pour pleurer nos amours
Je sellerai de noir mon cheval noir
Pour pleurer nos amours
Et je partirai seul dans la nuit noire
De nos amoursDe nos amours, désormais mortes
De nos amours, désormais mortes

Je veux sur ma poitrine porter le deuil
Le restant de ma vie
Je veux sur ma poitrine porter le deuil
Toute ma vie

{Parlé :}
De velours noir, tes cheveux
De velours noir, tes yeux
De velours noir, ta robe
Et ton coeur
Si tu m’oublies
Si tu m’oublies
Je veux tendre ma vie
D’un long rideau de velours noir

Inbetweeness: songs…

Posted in Blogroll, song on March 20, 2007 by clartedubois

Ian Dury & The Blockheads : Inbetweenies

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hcFa3YZaLEY

In the mirror, when I’m debonair
My reactions are my own affair
A body likes to be near the bone
Oh Nancy, Leslie, Jack and Joan
I die when I’m alone, alone

Shake your booty when your back is bent
Put your feelings where my mouth just went
As serious as things do seem
At least you’ve put me on the team
And friends do rule supreme, ok

Oh, pardon you, me
With a capital ‘C’
And who would have thought
With a capital nought?
In between the lines

Ooohhhhhhhhhh

Spread your chickens when you think of next
What the Dickens if they’re highly-sexed?
Through channels that were once canals
Do lift the heart of my morale
To know that we are pals, yes

Oh, vanity fair
With a capital ‘V’
You give me a share
You take it from me
Oh, jolly good show
With a capital ‘O’
It’s terrific to go
Hellooo

Hello, hello, hello
Hello, hello, hello

——————

Well, blast it!

Ian Dury is one of my favourite artist.

He makes me laugh, he makes me cry

He makes me feel alive…

He might be a complete maverick,

I couldn’t care less.

——————-

I mean!

What can make someone like Winwood

Write such a desperate song?

When Ian would not!

He was crippled, for God or devil’ sake!…

But he could be so joyously rebel!

Then of course, there must be a reason,

To come across whatever tune…

Mind! I choose Ian,

While you see a Chance

Met me driving back from some shopping…

I put it so loud that the passerby

Must have think, my car was tuned!

And that coming from that dark blue Opel!

Elegance, it is called.

O! Irony!

Just when I am haunted

By Joe Mc Donnell and Bobby Sands.

And also, the boys of war.

I mean, when will that finish?

When will we be done with war?

Is it going to be forever that men will cry in their sleep

Reliving the horrors of it?

Then sometimes, they will believe

That the best thing is to be with a woman

Who doest know nothing in the slightest about it…

To feel completely lost at the end.

I don’t know if a rebel woman can be better.

I don’t know if a woman who is more like a man,

Yes, finally, it comes to that…

Being in the inbetweeness.

A woman with a man’ heart.

She does not feel powerless in the same way as mothers

But as some kind of priestess or educator…

Having give the best of her knowledge

To no advance as war is always there to kill blindly…

And?

I know perfectly well!

Ian’ song has nothing to do with my own

Inbetweeness.

To the Wolfe Tones… unfinished

Posted in Blogroll, friends, song on March 19, 2007 by clartedubois

And Samira, Phillip M. in Karma…

This song is very powerful,

It does not leave a thing unsaid.

And it is important that it exists.

______________________

JOE McDONNELL
(Brian Warfield)

O me name is Joe McDonnell from Belfast town I came
That city I will never see again
For in the town of Belfast I spent many happy days
I love that town in oh so many ways
For it’s there I spent my childhood and found for me a wife
I then set out to make for her a life
But all my young ambitions met with bitterness and hate
I soon found myself inside a prison gate

Chorus:
And you dare to call me a terrorist while you looked down your gun
When I think of all the deeds that you had done
You had plundered many nations divided many lands
You had terrorized their peoples you ruled with an iron hand.
And you brought this reign of terror to my land

Through those many months internment
In the Maidstone and the Maze
I thought about my land throughout those days
Why my country was divided, why I was now in jail
Imprisoned without crime or without trial
And though I love my country I am not a bitter man
I’ve seen cruelty and injustice at first hand
So then one fateful morning I shook bold freedom’s hand
For right or wrong I’d try to free my land

Chorus

Then one cold October morning trapped in a lion’s den
I found myself in prison once again
I was committed to the H-blocks for fourteen years or more
On the Blanket the conditions they were poor
Then a hunger strike we did commence for the dignity of man
But it seemed to me that no one gave a damn
But now, I’m a saddened man I’ve watched my comrades die
If only people cared or wondered why

Chorus

May God shine on you Bobby Sands for the courage you have shown
May your glory and your fame be widely known
And Francis Hugues and Ray McCreesh who died unselfishly
And Patsy O’Hara and the next in line is me
And those who lie behind me, may your courage be the same
And I pray to God my life is not in vain
Ah but sad and bitter was the year of 1981
For everything I’ve lost and nothing’s won.

_______________________________________

Well, while I was thinking again of the boys of wars.

I was also thinking about what is called a terrorist.

Most of the time, people who resist, who try by all means to resist.

And what do they resist? Or who?

Invaders, colonisateurs.

Meaning by that people thinking they know better, have right by power.

Take possession.

All kind of things.

And I was also thinking that I wrote so many letters for Amnesty.

To China! 50 letters, each month for a while.

Then I tried to understand how Amnesty was functioning.

We were then concerned by the Uighurs.

They are muslims.

When we were having actions to supported them against the repression,

Nobody care…

While! My God!

The Tibetans how hype it was to support them!

Thousands of signatures for the petitions…

The people were never tired to hear about the Tibetans. Never ever.

The Uighurs? They didn’t give a dam!

Then when I went higher and higher visiting Amnesty hierarchy, in search of a clue…

Were they realising where The Uighurs lived?

Not so far of Afghanistan. Not far from Pakistan either.

But no! They were not interested by politics. Not at all.

Stupidity? Blindness?

Or lies.

I couldn’t care less.

I stepped out completely fed up to point a finger to a nation

which after all has provided me so many interesting philosophical insights…

Where do you think is Amnesty based?

To Lsr.

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