I've just learned to turn it off

[sovay]

I Won't Send Roses (Mack & Mabel)

I won't send roses or hold the door
I won't remember which dress you wore
My heart is too much in control
The lack of romance in my soul
Will turn you grey, kid
So stay away, kid
Forget my shoulder when you're in need
Forgetting birthdays is guaranteed
And should I love you, you would be the last to know
I won't send roses
And roses suit you so

My pace is frantic, my temper's cross
With words romantic I'm at a loss
I'd be the first one to agree
That I'm preoccupied with me
And it's inbred, kid
So keep your head, kid
In me you'll find things like guts and nerve
But not the kind things that you deserve
And so while there's a fighting chance, just turn and go
I won't send roses
And roses suit you so

Comments

[clarionj.livejournal.com]

Wow, I went back and the thread had kept going long after I left that day. I'd like to know where some of the other pieces came from as well, but for now, I'll stick to these (and the last feels so familiar, but my mind's blank anyway--should I know it?).


I have the fervor of myself for a presence
and my own spirit for light;
and my spirit with its loss knows this;
though small against the black,
small against the formless rocks,
hell must break before I am lost;

before I am lost,
hell must open like a red rose
for the dead to pass.

I'll hold your hand while they drag the river
I'll cuddle you in the undertow
I'll keep my hand on your trigger finger
I'll take you down where the train tracks go
Let's while away the hours
Let's spend an evil night together

What is deep, as love is deep, I'll have
Deeply. What is good, as love is good,
I'll have well. Then if time and space
Have any purpose, I shall belong to it.
If not, if all is a pretty fiction
To distract the cherubim and seraphim
Who so continually do cry, the least
I can do is to fill the curled shell of the world
With human deep-sea sound, and hold it to
The ear of God, until he has appetite
To taste our salt sorrow on his lips.

[sovay]

I have the fervor of myself for a presence . . .
—H.D., "Eurydice"

She is one of my favorite poets: the only person I have ever read who could make English sound like sixth-century Greek.

I'll hold your hand while they drag the river . . .
—Jill Tracy, "Evil Night Together"

Listening to her should be self-explanatory. : P

What is deep, as love is deep, I'll have
Deeply . . .
—Christopher Fry, The Lady's Not For Burning

I saw this the Theater at Monmouth when I was thirteen and it made a great impression on me. The language is beautiful, and the characters sharp; if you haven't read the play, I'd recommend it. It's endlessly quotable.