IF I’M TO BE LED
If I’m to be led by my heart’s little handle,
If I’m to be enslaved to Love’s fondle, then
Let it be you who leads my soul rushing
Headlong, heartlong into Love’s hair.
Let it be you who seduces my fear
With those lips of which I shall never tire
And those arms which enfold me like a bundle
Of boyish desire and neurotic gnashing.
Let it be you who caresses my wishing.
If I’m to be led by my heart’s primal wire
Into Love’s circus like some dancing bear, then
Let it be you who gives me the needle
That stupors my soul and leads it dashing
Breathless and brainless as a river rushing.
If I’m to be bewitched by blushing nuzzles
To drown in ecstasy’s tear,
Let it be you whose wise fingers fiddle me
Forward to open and drown in Love’s middle.
If I’m to be led by my heart through this slashing
Night by a pinhole of light that’s flashing
At the end of Love’s vision, then let me dare
To let it be you whose movements addle my
Breathless brains and teach me to straddle
Love’s galloping mare or at least to peddle
This tandem tantrum in all its fishing forward.
Let it be you who draws near from
Out of this darkness to fondle my fire.
Words and Music by Galen Green c 1989
Saturday, May 31, 2008
"Scenes from a Marriage" by Galen Green (1978)
SCENES FROM A MARRIAGE
Tonight, it rains on our love.
But you’re still the one I’m dreaming of.
On a boat bound for India,
I look out into the rain and see you
Telling me that night is our future.
But I’m stuck in this prison and dying of thirst.
Of all possible worlds, this must be the worst.
Tonight, it rains on our summer interlude.
We’re out of love and out of food.
I look at photographs of waiting women,
As I sit in the porch swing, dreamin’ of swimmin’
And the night comes down like sawdust and tinsel.
The night whispers a lesson in love.
I lie below; you drift above,
As we journey into autumn.
You say things bounce when they hit the bottom.
I look into the face of the magician.
I dream of the smiles of a summer night.
They remind me of the winter light
that glimmers from the seventh seal.
Tonight, I don’t know how to feel.
You talk about picking wild strawberries.
Are these the nights that every man marries?
I look at your face now as through a glass darkly.
Tonight, you’re so close to my life.
Can a man see the world through the eyes of his wife?
I listen to you sing about the crisis in our virgin spring.
The night in your song is your persona.
I look into the devil’s eye.
You look out the screen door and ask me why
The raining darkness is so full of silence.
I reply it’s a matter of circumstance.
Tonight, it rains on our summer interlude.
We’re out of love and we’re out of food.
As the summer rain plays an autumn sonata.
Tonight, it rains on our love.
But you’re still the one I’m dreaming of.
I dream of the smiles of a summer night.
They remind me of the winter light
That leads us into the hour of the wolf.
You speak of the touch and the shame
And of letting our mad love grow tame.
I can almost see you face to face
In the silver lines these raindrops trace.
Our love has become a serpent’s egg.
You touch the serpent between my legs,
And the night around us hatches our cries and whispers.
Words and Music by Galen Green c 1978
Tonight, it rains on our love.
But you’re still the one I’m dreaming of.
On a boat bound for India,
I look out into the rain and see you
Telling me that night is our future.
But I’m stuck in this prison and dying of thirst.
Of all possible worlds, this must be the worst.
Tonight, it rains on our summer interlude.
We’re out of love and out of food.
I look at photographs of waiting women,
As I sit in the porch swing, dreamin’ of swimmin’
And the night comes down like sawdust and tinsel.
The night whispers a lesson in love.
I lie below; you drift above,
As we journey into autumn.
You say things bounce when they hit the bottom.
I look into the face of the magician.
I dream of the smiles of a summer night.
They remind me of the winter light
that glimmers from the seventh seal.
Tonight, I don’t know how to feel.
You talk about picking wild strawberries.
Are these the nights that every man marries?
I look at your face now as through a glass darkly.
Tonight, you’re so close to my life.
Can a man see the world through the eyes of his wife?
I listen to you sing about the crisis in our virgin spring.
The night in your song is your persona.
I look into the devil’s eye.
You look out the screen door and ask me why
The raining darkness is so full of silence.
I reply it’s a matter of circumstance.
Tonight, it rains on our summer interlude.
We’re out of love and we’re out of food.
As the summer rain plays an autumn sonata.
Tonight, it rains on our love.
But you’re still the one I’m dreaming of.
I dream of the smiles of a summer night.
They remind me of the winter light
That leads us into the hour of the wolf.
You speak of the touch and the shame
And of letting our mad love grow tame.
I can almost see you face to face
In the silver lines these raindrops trace.
Our love has become a serpent’s egg.
You touch the serpent between my legs,
And the night around us hatches our cries and whispers.
Words and Music by Galen Green c 1978
"I Love What We Do" by Galen Green (1989)
I LOVE WHAT WE DO
I love what we do beneath the gaze
Of heaven. I love the way we freeze
And suck these popsicle minutes, chanting
Childish dithyrams into this hellish
World whose poisonous paints embellish
These triple-thick windows behind which, like goldfish,
We swim in this love as in a daze,
As we look out into a world that’s painting
An hysterical history, rank in its ranting.
I love what we do, here in our bardish
Sighing. I love the way these steelish
Minutes melt to form this phrase
We chant to prevent this world from enchanting
Us into some bamboozled fainting
Away from Love’s wisdom, as outside the mounting
Stormclouds darken these widows like the rubbish
Of history, wreaking of Limburger cheese,
Piled higher than weather and deeper than days.
I love what we do, this petting, this panting
Together here. I love this glinting
Shaft of sunlight like a Marvin Hamlisch
Ditty that gives us the strength to blaze
Onward and inward and so to tease
From out of our flesh a love that stays
With us here now where history’s haunting
Hellish hysterics can’t force their foolishness
Through these glass walls to radish our fetish.
Words and Music by Galen Green c 1989
I love what we do beneath the gaze
Of heaven. I love the way we freeze
And suck these popsicle minutes, chanting
Childish dithyrams into this hellish
World whose poisonous paints embellish
These triple-thick windows behind which, like goldfish,
We swim in this love as in a daze,
As we look out into a world that’s painting
An hysterical history, rank in its ranting.
I love what we do, here in our bardish
Sighing. I love the way these steelish
Minutes melt to form this phrase
We chant to prevent this world from enchanting
Us into some bamboozled fainting
Away from Love’s wisdom, as outside the mounting
Stormclouds darken these widows like the rubbish
Of history, wreaking of Limburger cheese,
Piled higher than weather and deeper than days.
I love what we do, this petting, this panting
Together here. I love this glinting
Shaft of sunlight like a Marvin Hamlisch
Ditty that gives us the strength to blaze
Onward and inward and so to tease
From out of our flesh a love that stays
With us here now where history’s haunting
Hellish hysterics can’t force their foolishness
Through these glass walls to radish our fetish.
Words and Music by Galen Green c 1989
Thursday, May 15, 2008
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