Wednesday, March 28, 2007

THE SCULPTOR STANDS STRICKEN

I have left several links towards a man named Townes Van Zandt, a Singer/Songwriter from Texas. He is the type of Artist that I admire most. Sadly, he died on January 1st, 1997, the anniversary of Hank Williams death.
His story is interesting enough...the son of a prominent family with ancestors in the Texas Revolution; its said he has MENSA Intelligence. Enrolled in College and seeemingly destined for Politics and the Governorship, he dropped out, influenced heavily by the troubadour songwriters of the 60's.
His life was also influenced by Manic Depression , which he had been diagnosed with and treated for with Insulin Shock Therapy. The treatment erased and affected his long term memory. He was quiet and shy, an almost apologetic performer, and an Alchoholic.
Roots music and Americana are becoming more in vogue recently, and he stands as a major influence on the Singers/Songwriters of the day.
I have the honor of having served him Supper a few times when I was a Chef, though I had no idea who he was other than the son of a member of the Country Club.
He is mostly known for very sad and melancholy songs, but his simple views and unique perspectives I find quite beautiful.



(Quicksilver Daydreams of) Maria

Well, the diamonds fades quickly when matched to the face of Maria
All the harps they sound empty when she lifts her lips to the sky
the brown of her skin makes her hair seem a soft golden rainfall
that spills from the mountains to the bottomless depths of her eyes

Well, she stands all around me her hands slowly sifting the sunshine
all the laughter that lingers down deep 'neath her smilin' is free
Well, it spins and it twirls like a hummingbird lost in the morning
and caresses the south wind and silently sails to the sea


Ah, the sculpter stands stricken and the artist he throws away his brushes
when her image comes dancin' the sun she turns sullen with shame
And the birds they go silent the wind stops his sad mournful singing
when the trees of the forest start gently to whisper'in her name

So as softly she wanders I'll desperately follow her footsteps
and I'll chase after shadows that offer a trace of her sight
Ah, they promise eternally that she lays hidden within them
but I find they've decieved me and sadly I bid them goodbye

So the serpent slides softly away with these moments of laughter
and the the old washy woman has finish her cleanin' and gone
but the bamboo hangs heavy in the bondage of quicksilver daydreams
and a lonely child longingly looks for a place to belong

Yes, I know it was a long one, but why not have two for the same price?

Brother Flower
Brother Flower, are you listenin'?
Let me sing a song for you
Brother Flower, petals glistenin',
in the bashful mornings
Brother Flower, when the sun shines
and the dew has flown away
if you don't mind weak and wrong rhymes
Brother Flower, may I stay?

BrotherFlower, you ain't lonely
for you've always been alone
but I haven't been so lucky
I had love and now it's gone
I have arms to hold another
never to hold her again
I have life to give a lover
You have life to give the wind

Brother Flower, when the snow flies
and you lay your beauty down
Brother Flower, are you sleepin'
there upon the cold, cold ground
Brother Flower, please awaken
show the sky your face of blue
let me know I ain't forsaken
seems like all I have is you

7 comments:

Barbara said...

Some of the best art and music come from people who suffer from serious mental illness. Perhaps the creative side of their brains is better equipped to produce those things we come to love them for, often after they are dead and gone. Then we just remember the beauty they created and not the hell they lived in.

goatman said...

Good luck to you.
Certainly a depressing prevous post??
Happy to meet cha!

red-dirt-girl said...

Hi Cowboy,

You just had to do it, didn't you???!! Race ahead of me and post "Quicksilver Daydreams
....but you did Townes Van Zandt justice....I doubt I would have taken the time to research much about him. How cool is that? you serving him a time or two? I love the last few lines about 'bamboo bondage' and a lonely child just looking to belong...

Well we all know by now that I've certainly talked enough about bipolar disorder (formerly known as Manic Depression)....It was a brutal way to treat it...my own birth father had shock treatments as a teenager....today, believe it or not, electric shock therapy is still used to treat depression so severe that it does not respond to any other known method/medication....at least now they know enough not to fry the brain...just toast it a light, hazy brown....still have the side effect of memory loss, however.

I believe there is a book out (maybe a self-published piece...or even a film due out on this) called "Electric Boy"......I'll have to research that....my memory seems to be failing me....HA! No, I've yet to have these treatments....and hope I never have to....

rdg

Old Lady said...

I enjoy getting lost in the chasms of your mind.

GrizzBabe said...

You seem to have a love and appreciation for the most poetic artists. Quite an admirable quality.

steve said...

When I was a Chef I had to learn to be Artistic...it never came natural like with some guys...but you can learn. Folks that make Art with Words and Sounds are amazing to me...i don't think its easily learned.
Goatman, sometimes i may seem to write about tragedy but from where i sit, all these tragedies seem to be just part of the general Joke...and i usually find some humor, even if I haven't expressed it on the page.
Both of these poems may sound sad, but they are so beautifully done they become uplifting to me.
Am I screwed or what?

Mother of Invention said...

Pretty sad ending...you almost want to continue it into the rebirth in spring and his re-connection.