Special Post on Tuesday Poem: "Black Boys on Mopeds", "The Last Day of Our Acquaintance" by Sinead O'Connor and "Nothing Compares 2 U" by Prince and performed by Sinead O'Connor 1966-2023 RIP

 

Black Boys on Mopeds by Sinead O'Connor

The Last Day of Our Acquaintance by Sinead O'Connor

Nothing Compares 2 U by Prince

Performed by the incomparable Sinead O'Connor

Sinead O'Connor was my hero and a true Irish hero.

I was absolutely shocked and saddened to hear on the Midday News on Radio New Zealand that she had died at the far-too-young age of 56.

Rest assured, Sinead, a beautiful soul like yours will go to Heaven and, from up there, you can look down on the past Popes of the Catholic Church burning in hell.

RIP Sinead O'Connor, you deserve peace finally.

Tuesday Poem: "Filling Station" by Elizabeth Bishop

Oh, but it is dirty!

—this little filling station, 
oil-soaked, oil-permeated 
to a disturbing, over-all 
black translucency. 
Be careful with that match!

Father wears a dirty, 
oil-soaked monkey suit 
that cuts him under the arms, 
and several quick and saucy 
and greasy sons assist him 
(it's a family filling station), 
all quite thoroughly dirty.

Do they live in the station? 
It has a cement porch 
behind the pumps, and on it 
a set of crushed and grease-
impregnated wickerwork; 
on the wicker sofa 
a dirty dog, quite comfy.

Some comic books provide 
the only note of color—
of certain color. They lie 
upon a big dim doily 
draping a taboret 
(part of the set), beside 
a big hirsute begonia.

Why the extraneous plant? 
Why the taboret? 
Why, oh why, the doily? 
(Embroidered in daisy stitch 
with marguerites, I think, 
and heavy with gray crochet.)

Somebody embroidered the doily. 
Somebody waters the plant, 
or oils it, maybe. Somebody 
arranges the rows of cans 
so that they softly say:
ESSO—SO—SO—SO
to high-strung automobiles. 

Somebody loves us all.

by Elizabeth Bishop

Photo by Bettmann / Getty Images


For more information about Elizabeth Bishop, see:

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/elizabeth-bishop

Tuesday Poem: "Short lecture on your own happiness" by Mary Ruefle

You know how to write poetry, it is all you need to be happy,
but you will not be happy, you will be miserable, thinking you

need so many other things, and in years and years of misery 

you have only one thing, as poets, to look forward to, the day 

you will not want what you haven’t got, the thing you have got 

is poetry, let nothing cheat, steal, or deflect you from it, even 

poetry itself. Why are you sitting there? You should have fled 

before I finished the first sentence.

 by Mary Ruefle

Mary Ruefle

For more information about Mary Ruefle see:

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/mary-ruefle

Tuesday Poem (Song): "River" by Natalie Merchant

Young and strong Hollywood son
In the early morning light
This star fell down
On Sunset Boulevard

Young and strong beautiful one
That we embrace so close, is gone
Was torn away

Let the youth of America mourn
Include him in their prayers
Let his image linger on
Repeat it everywhere

With candles and flowers
He was one of ours
One of ours

Why don't you let him be?
He's gone
We know
Give his mother and his father peace
Your vulture's candor
Your casual slander
You murder his memory
He's gone
We know
It's nothing but a tragedy

Lay to rest your soul
And body lay beside your name
Lay to rest your rage
Your hunger and amazing grace

With candles and flowers
You were one of ours
One of ours

I saw cameras expose your life
I heard rumours explode with lies
I saw children in tears
Cry and crowd around the sight
Of where you had collapsed that day
Where your last breath and word
Had been sighed
Where your heart had burst, where you had died
Where you had died
Where you had died

I saw how they were lost and grieving
All half believing you were gone
The loss and the pain of it
Crime and the shame of it you were gone
It was such a nightmare raving
How can we save him from himself?

I saw how they were lost and grieving
All half believing you were gone
The loss and the pain of it
Crime and the shame of it you were gone
It was such a nightmare raving

How can we save him from himself? 

by Natalie Merchant

For more information about the musician and songwriter, Natalie Merchant, see:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Natalie_Merchant

Tuesday Poem: "When Struck by Night" by Luther Hughes

For our new apartment, which my mother may never see
since slugging into that old person’s disease—I won’t bring myself
to say it in writing—I bought a cactus and it’s beautiful,
its soldier-green skin and feline-whiskered dress howls
beneath the den light which encourages me to keep my big-boy jeans on.
I know I look for answers everywhere. Everywhere there you are
with your eyes a war-less country, a privilege we sometimes share.
But tonight, there isn’t a country. Just a sky fussing. Anxious music.
The classic duty of breath as we binge another episode of
What Should I Do When You Want to Die. Sometimes, you fail
to love me, I think I say, the math ain’t mathing—but what could you do?
You’ve researched plants, I know, to find which could live
without much gusto from its human. You pour yourself
another glass of vodka, a shot of tequila for me. Who am I
to think I’m too good for your anger—you were right…
Come, let’s sour our swords together. Come, let morning waltz
into our bedroom all cocky-like like it landlords the place. Come,
let’s plunge forward, drunkenly in love, grab hold the darkness we become.

by Luther Hughes

For more information about the poet, Luther Hughes, see:

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/luther-hughes