As I have made no secret, I am not a big fan of poetry. I love Haiku in all it’s forms, but I find strict-double-down-nitty-gritty poetry to be unctious (don’t you LOVE that word?!). Those modern-day beatniks who spout their ideals with a backdrop of music just make me want to laugh while puking. If you want a good example, go here: Levi the Poet’s “Resentment”.
See what I mean? Wow. I must say though, my 18 year old son, Strat, LOVES him. Ugh.
But this is my point: some song lyrics are pure poetry, and I love them. Here are two snippets from Jack Johnson’s “Taylor”:
never one to be late
complain express ideas in her brain
Working on the night shift
passin out the tickets
you’re gonna have to pay her
if you want to park here.
Well mommy’s little dancer’s
quite a little secret
working on the streets now
never gonna keep it.
It’s quite an imposition
And now she’s only wishin’
That she would have listened
To the words they said.
And Sunny Silhouette won’t let him in
and poor old Pete’s got nothin ’cause he’s been fallin’
but somehow Sunny knows just where he’s been
He thinks that singin’ on a Sunday’s gonna save his soul
but now that Saturday’s gone
Well sometimes he thinks that he’s on his way
but I can see, that his break lights are on