alternative, independent, literature, music, politics, rock, Uncategorized, writing

Artistic Sin

How do we judge art from the past? Is it correct to judge it by the mores of the current society, or should it be understood in the context of the period it was created? Classical Roman art and legends persisted long after they adopted Christianity, but the pagan temples and anything associated with worshipping the former gods was stripped of its power and the buildings were repurposed. Now we recognize writers like Virgil and Cicero as geniuses but to early Christians they must have seemed like heretics. It took close to a thousand years for those works to be distributed again in the Christian West. Some think the Christians are wrong for burning and destroying so many pagan Roman historical, poetic and religious texts. Christians think the Romans were wrong for practicing idolatry. Is temporal relativism plausible? The dead can’t advocate for their work so our views of the past are inherently biased towards the mores of modern society. Is this ethical? Should we take temporal relativism into account or assume by virtue of passing time a more recent society is more sophisticated?
This is a song by the generally progressive, equal rights supporting feminist punk icon, Patti Smith. Listen and decide for yourself if temporal relativism is real or not and if it matters at all. Is this just racism or punk rock using the metaphor of “outside of society” to describe the black person’s oppression at that time in America? Will this song erase or damage Patti’s legacy in the future? Should it be judged by its lyrics, musical skill and ingenuity, both or none? What do you think?

YOUTUBE.COM
from the “Natural Born Killers” soundtrack originally recorded in 1978 on the album Easter
Advertisements
Standard
addiction, alternative, depression, Erotic, free verse, grunge, improvisation, music, poetry, rock, Uncategorized, underground, writing

DSM II

We’re all beautiful and immortal when we’re dead!

I’m Johnson! I’m Jones! I’m Hank the First, Hendrix, Janis & Jim.

I’m Kurt’s used spoon. Death makes us immortal.

What? I thought you liked danger. I always fell for the ones that dressed bad all in black, ripped jeans booze & anything you’d do I would JoanJett’s, Brody Dalle’s Patti Smiths… Lydia Lunch’s

Punk Rock Virgin Mary Magdalene’s & I was just a virgin carpenter.

Teens like the idea of rebellion. I was a stay at home loser who found

Themselves used to a dull personality in lines of white,

In coloured pills & needles.

No one else but Jake n’ Mikey had it in them.

If you’re going to do it go all the way, or stick to the plan.

9-5 pay taxes, drink to sleep all week, do blow to stay up all weekend.

Rinse & repeat.

Quiet & peace until you look like a joke out wasted with your single best friends & you chose it. Mix it up, take a girls, take a boy, pick a fight,

But every mainline is a round in Russian Roulette.

Hoping each shot will be the one to shut these people up.

If you’re might not die then you’re not living.

I see my cocaine & raise it 24mg of hydro.

My bird’s heart is flying north & fleeing south at the same time.

Flag, thick red vein blood push, too wired for tired to strung out to care.

One ends another gets prepped, I add an ampule of liquid midozolam,

Handful of beezo pills, old OC & some free Montreal speed.

I wonder if death will be the only cure for this dull night.

Getting buzzed, stoned, intoxicated was boring by the time I was legal.

Each hit should be enough to kill yourself, each failure is just another chemical in the chamber, fentanyl & ice.

Death walks by three times daily.

I feel pity for the ones invested in TV & pop music who want more than

Just rehashed resin.

I used to think Bob Was crazy for quitting Sonic Youth.

Found out he quit, & yes Lydia is a far better kisser according to B.B.

Who’s been in NYC since the factory days.

When I found Dylan the Velvets & Patti were the next to blow my mind.

Then Sonic Youth Death Valley’69 Lydia’s demented orgasmic blood curdling shrieks.

Sonic Youth went indie-grunge trying to get their favour back for taking Nirvana on tour in ‘91.

The Year Punk Broke, directed by a teenaged Dave Markey, a friend now.

It broke because SY had the talent, Nirvana had the soul.

Meanwhile in the dirty downtown NYC clubs where this music is at home….

-Jack Blare

Standard
music, poetry, rock, Uncategorized

Come Undone

You show up like the ghost of my depression

with your memories and ideals

and I get the strong impression

that you have no idea how this feels

I’m Jesus Christ the Emperor

I’m Nero who sacrificed his youth

I am the coliseum’s last contender

Fighting off the inevitable truth

I’m not old but I’m not young

Just trying to have some fun

I fucked I fought I lost and I won

But now its all come undone

I am the blind eye of a storm

Brewing since the day that I was born

my suit is bloody, burnt and torn

I’m the devil that sold both of his horns

Riots on the bloody streets of heaven

Dope & fucking on the streets of hell

The angelic council of eleven

hid inside the cracked liberty bell

I’m not old but I’m not young

Just trying to have some fun

I fucked I fought I lost and I won

But now its all come undone

‘cause I’m having fun

And you know I’m not done

I’ve come undone

I’ve come undone

I’ve come undone

Jack Blare, 2015

Standard
independent, music, poetry, rock, Uncategorized, underground, writing

Anyone Can Win

Suns going down and the moon rises bright

Into the heart of this star struck night

I once had something you could call love

Now its just a memory fading up above

My junkyard eyes dance on your perfect skin

Sometimes its harder to lose

‘cause anyone can win

Morning arrives, the knife drawn at dawn

Tired sick and weak but still going on

Sucker for love, junkie for sin

Sometimes its harder to lose

‘cause anyone can win

Easy its easy

so easy its easy

Easy so easy

I wish it was so easy

But its not so easy

To be a loser

When everybody wins

Jack Blare, 2014

Standard
alternative, independent, music, poetry, rock, Uncategorized, underground

Garage Youth

Things have fallen apart

I have frozen my own heart

We’ve lost touch with reality

Blinded and divided so dark I cannot see

And oh its no use

Hiding under this little roof

did you finally find all the proof?

We were just kids living

the garage youth

Drunken nights and days so high

Didn’t care if I lived or died

Nothing now is here to stay

Just smoke and hope that things’ll be okay

But oh its no use

hiding under this little roof

did you finally find out the truth?

We were just kids living

the Garage youth.

Jack Blare, 2015

Standard