Поезія американського християнина (англ.)
10/20/2002 | Георгій Пінчук
Цього простенького, але, на мій погляд, гарного і сильного віршикa написав один мешканець нашого міста, дядечко на ім"я Уолтер Гауелл (Walter Howell). Зараз він вже старенький, йому десь так років 85-87. Коли він написав цього вірша, недавно чи в молодості, я точно не знаю. Віршик з"явився десь з тиждень тому в бюлетені нашої старквілльської Церкви Христа. Ось він:
In your dealings with your neighbor,
If you'd have a better score,
Always tip the scales to balance,
And then add a little more.
And no matter what your calling,
On the farm or in the store,
Always give an honest measure,
And then add a little more.
And when comes the final judgment,
And He tallies up the score,
Surely God will deal more gently
With the man who added more.
In your dealings with your neighbor,
If you'd have a better score,
Always tip the scales to balance,
And then add a little more.
And no matter what your calling,
On the farm or in the store,
Always give an honest measure,
And then add a little more.
And when comes the final judgment,
And He tallies up the score,
Surely God will deal more gently
With the man who added more.
Відповіді
2002.10.21 | Хлоя
Ще поезія
С благословеньем тихим НебаК нам ангелы слетают,
Когда, от горя онемев,
Душа страдает.
*****
"Ax, чем бы мир для нас вдруг стал,
Когда б в нем не было детей,
За нами – только пустота,
А впереди – лишь смерти тень.
Что значат листья для дерев?
И свет, и воздух через них,
Сгущаясь в сладкий, нежный сок,
Идут в стволы, питая их.
Как будто листья в том лесу –
Для мира дети; их глазами
Воспринимаем мы красу,
Дарованную небесами".
*****
– Отец, что такое жизнь?
– Битва, дитя мое.
Где меткий может промахнуться,
А самый зоркий обмануться,
И дрогнет сердце храбреца,
Где враг ни день, ни ночь не дремлет,
Та битва целый мир объемлет –
Стоять в ней нужно до конца.
*****
*****
Свою не полностью осознаем мы силу,
Что каждый день творим добро иль зло.
Кого-то злое слово погубило,
А доброе кого-нибудь спасло.
Слова негромкие, поступки мелкие,
Из тех, что сразу нами забываются,
Мы им совсем не придаем значения,
А слабые от этого ломаются.
*****
"За тучей скрывается звездный свет,
После ливня солнечный луч сияет,
У Бога существ нелюбимых нет,
Всем творениям благо Он посылает!"
*****
Как храмы, строятся души у нас.
Вот резьбы прекрасный узор,
Там икону увидит взор,
Темную раму, которая скажет
Правду святую иль чудо покажет.
Каждая малость со всем сливается,
Все изменяет, к чему прикасается.
Красоту или шрам оставляя на нас.
*****
Во всем Писании нет слов,
Что слаще бы звучали,
Воспоминанья лучших лет
В душах бы пробуждали,
Чем те слова, где наш Господь
В нас веру укрепляет
И, обещая нам покой,
Как мать, нас утешает.
*****
Когда на Небе Бог,
То в мире все в порядке.
*****
Дарите любовь. Взгляните кругом. Помогайте
Тем, с кем рядом вам выпало в жизни идти,
Дни их, как можете, украшайте,
Чтоб свой жизненный крест было им легче нести.
Дарите любовь. Взгляните - поодаль ваш брат,
Отчаявшись, грех уж готов совершить.
Вы руку ему протяните, и рад
Он будет чистою, новою жизнию жить.
*****
Свята цариця-мучениця Олександра Федорівна Романова
2002.10.21 | Хлоя
Вірші ієромонаха Романа
* * *Без Бога нация - толпа,
Объединенная пороком,
Или слепа, или глупа,
Иль, что еще страшней, - жестока.
И пусть на трон взойдет любой,
Глаголющий высоким слогом,
Толпа останется толпой,
Пока не обратится к Богу!
* * *
Гора Голгофа
Гора Голгофа. Вижу три креста.
Замри, душе, доколе окаянна?!
А посреди - распятого Христа.
У ног - Святая Дева с Иоанном.
И тот, что слева, над Христом глумясь,
В своих неправдах Бога обвиняя,
Сказал, с богоубийцами сроднясь,
- Коль Ты - Христос, спаси Себя и нас
Но тот, что справа, запретил ему;
- Или твоя душа Творца не знает?
За наше зло нам мало этих мук,
А Этот же, скажи, за что страдает?
О, бывшый тать, о, нынешний святой,
Все зло свое перечеркнул немногим:
Перед безумной воющей толпой
Ты исповедал Страждушего Богом.
О, ты, который с Господом терпел,
О, покаяньем вырванный из ада.
Одна лишь правда ожила в тебе,
Что полон был ты всяческой неправды.
И в этот миг, последний крестный миг
Ты оправдал поруганного Бога,
И капля правды, перевесив мир,
Ввела под своды райского чертога.
О, Боже мой, распятый как злодей,
Тебе, Тебе с Отцем и Духом Слава!
Своим Крестом Ты разделил людей
На тех кто слева и на тех кто справа.
Гора Голгофа, Пасхи Колыбель,
Шепчу одно неверными устами:
- Душе моя, помысли о себе,
Душе моя, душе, куда мы станем?
О, Мати Света, не остави нас.
Взыщи мене, Единая Отрадо.
Да оживет во мне хоть в смертный час
Разбойничья спасительная правда.
* * *
И млечный путь, и кроткий полумесяц...
И Млечный Путь, и кроткий полумесяц,
И звёзды, и вода, и эта тишь.
Всё хорошо, что ж кормчий наш невесел?
Душе моя, душе, и ты молчишь.
Забыв о вёслах, погрузился в думы,
Головушку руками обхватив.
В дорожке лунной челн застыл бесшумно,
Знать, не к кому и незачем грести.
Иль не тебе сейчас зазывно светит
Огнями одинокое жильё?
Но он глядит не на красоты эти,
А в отраженье чёрное своё.
Забыв о веслах, погрузился в думы,
Головушку руками обхватив.
В дорожке лунной челн застыл бесшумно,
Знать, не к кому и незачем грести.
А без Надежды суетно движенье,
И прошлого никак не понести.
И наша жизнь не только отраженье,
Греби, родимый, есть куда грести.
Гони кручину, призывая Бога,
Остави отражение-тоску,
Под небом звёздным лунною дорогой
Плыви к тому живому огоньку.
* * *
Пожалей, дорогой, пожалей
Всё кругом до последней былинки.
Мудрость Божия здесь на земле
Познаётся не только в великом.
Ничего не растёт просто так,
Потому не сломай без потребы
Одиноко торчащий сорняк,
Прославляющий землю и небо.
Лунный воздух и млечную сыпь
Вобрала, засветясь золочёным,
Обречённая капля росы
На последнем листе обрёченном.
Листопада сокрытая боль
Под покровом зимы затихает...
За тебя, дорогой, и с тобой
Всё живое, томясь, воздыхает.
И грустит под Полярной звездой
Дольний мир и в погибель несётся...
«Первый мир был потоплен водой,
А второй для огня бережётся».
Так склонись, молчаливо склонись
Пред судами Творца в покаянье.
Помолись, дорогой, помолись,
Да замедлит Господь с воздаяньем.
* * *
Не разрывайте Истину на мнения.
Вы скажете: отчасти правы все?
Но это полнолуние осеннее
Не отразить мерцающей росе.
Ах, это отражение отчасти,
Мерцанье, не колеблющее тьму.
Отчасти кем-то познанное счастье
Не даст Блаженства в Вечности ему.
Святая Вечность – Богооткровенье...
Безвременность, Бескрайность, Полнота.
Мы и тебя меняем на мгновенье,
На жизнь, на миг летящего листа.
Как жаждет изнывающий от солнца
Водою освежиться за труды!
Но брызгам долгожданного колодца
Не заменить колодезной воды.
Нет ничего на свете окаянней
Неполной правды – в ней всегда обман,
А капля оживает в океане
И гибнет, оставляя океан.
О, неделимость Истины Превечной,
Премудрость и Препростость бытия,
Почто дробит тебя дух человечий
Безумством человеческого «я»?
Любое отраженье – искажение,
Любое осуждение – не суд...
Не разрывайте Истину на мнения,
Взгляните на дрожащую росу.
* * *
Страх Господень – авва воздержания,
Воздержанье дарит исцеление.
Лучшая поэзия – молчание,
Лучшее молчание – моление.
Лучшая молитва – покаяние,
Покаянье тщетно без прощения.
Лучшее пред Богом предстояние –
В глубине высокого смирения,
Я забудусь в таинстве молчания
Пред иконой чудной «УМИЛЕНИЕ».
Да очистят слёзы покаяния
Высшую поэзию – моление.
http://ohr.ru/tropinka/Zal/poezija/roman-1.htm
http://ohr.ru/tropinka/Zal/poezija/roman-2.htm
http://ohr.ru/tropinka/Zal/poezija/roman-3.htm
http://ohr.ru/tropinka/Zal/poezija/roman-4.htm
2002.10.23 | Георгій Пінчук
А ось Емілі Дікінсон
Надзвичайно глибокий вірш, який, наскільки я його розумію, треба читати абсолютно "навпаки." --ГПFAR from love the Heavenly Father
Leads the chosen child;
Oftener through realm of briar
Than the meadow mild,
Oftener by the claw of dragon
Than the hand of friend,
Guides the little one predestined
To the native land.
2002.10.23 | Вільнодум
Author unknown
All that we areis the result of what we have thought;
it is founded on our thoughts,
it is made up of our thoughts.
If a man speaks or acts
with a pure thought,
happiness follows him,
like a shadow that never leaves him.
2002.10.24 | Георгій Пінчук
А ось Джон Ньютон
(Хоч він і не американець, але цей гімн вважається найпопулярнішим в усіх англомовних країнах. Чудова музика, та й поезія мені подобається.)Amazing grace! How sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me!
I once was lost, but now am found;
Was blind, but now I see.
’Twas grace that taught my heart to fear,
And grace my fears relieved;
How precious did that grace appear
The hour I first believed.
Through many dangers, toils and snares,
I have already come;
’Tis grace hath brought me safe thus far,
And grace will lead me home.
The Lord has promised good to me,
His Word my hope secures;
He will my Shield and Portion be,
As long as life endures.
Yea, when this flesh and heart shall fail,
And mortal life shall cease,
I shall possess, within the veil,
A life of joy and peace.
The earth shall soon dissolve like snow,
The sun forbear to shine;
But God, Who called me here below,
Shall be forever mine.
When we’ve been there ten thousand years,
Bright shining as the sun,
We’ve no less days to sing God’s praise
Than when we’d first begun.
2002.11.07 | Георгій Пінчук
А ось дуже цікавий вірш
Він називається "Парадокси історії," і написав його невідомий учень Колумбінської школи (школа у США, де роки зо три тому кілька хлопців викрали вогнепальну зброю у своїх батьків і розстріляли кілька десятків своїх однокашників).we have taller buildings, but shorter tempers;
wider freeways, but narrower viewpoints;
we spend more, but have less;
we buy more, but enjoy it less.
We have bigger houses and smaller families;
more conveniences, but less time;
we have more degrees, but less sense;
more knowledge, but less judgment;
more experts, but fewer solutions;
more medicine, but less wellness.
We have multiplied our possessions, but reduced our values.
We talk too much, love too seldom, and hate too often.
We've learned how to make a living, but not a life;
we've added years to life, not life to years.
We've been all the way to the moon and back,
but have trouble crossing the street to meet the new neighbor.
We've conquered outer space, but not inner space;
we've cleaned up the air, but polluted the soul;
we've split the atom, but not our prejudice.
We have higher incomes, but lower morals;
we've become long on quantity, but short on quality.
These are the times of tall men, and short character;
steep profits, and shallow relationships.
These are the times of world peace, but domestic warfare;
more leisure, but less fun;
more kinds of food, but less nutrition.
These are days of two incomes, but more divorce;
of fancier houses, but broken homes.
It is a time when there is much in the show window and nothing in the stockroom.
2002.11.07 | Вільнодум
А ось дуже цікава правда про цей вірш
Цей вірш буде Вам ще цікавішим, коли прочитаєте, що йогонаписав зовсім не "той" і не про "те" :))))
http://www.snopes.com/language/document/paradox.htm
2002.11.07 | Вільнодум
Молитва Богу Дощу (англ.)
Prayer to the Rain GodOh, hard rain that drums on the tin eaves,
Smacks the blacktop with nonstop splattering,
Raps the window glass with each wind gust,
And spouts the drain pipe an artesian spring;
Oh, anti-liturgical benediction;
Oh, rampant and wanton redemption;
Oh, most gully-washer and moisture-laden
Westerly offshore flow:
Make frothing brooks in the dry ditches
And roiling creek beds out of rock-strewn arroyos;
Swell the stream to a leaping , swirling, dusky rush,
And let it billow out a silt cloud into the big river.
Drench all desire and longing,
All pleasure and depression,
All scheming and regret,
Be they solitary leaf or uprooted tree,
And, in the wild ebullient overflow,
Sweep them out to sea.
John Williams, 2002
2002.11.30 | Георгій Пінчук
Дон Маклін, "До побачення, Місс Американський Пиріжок"
Одна з моїх найулюбленіших поезій 1970-х років. Вона присвячена спогадам про дитинство і юність автора, що були проведені в маленькому містечку на Середньому Заході США. Очевидно, юний Дон був надзвичайно вражений трагічною загибеллю популярного співака Бадді Голлі, який розбився під час аварії літака (що мав назву "Місс Американський Пиріжок"). Пізніше Маклін "вписав" ці враження дитинства в свої поетичні роздуми про музику, юність, духовні пошуки, і сучасну йому англо-американську молодіжну "контркультуру" 1950-х - 1970-х років. У цій поезії згадуються такі видатні діячі цієї "контркультури," як співак Елвіс Преслі ("Король"), кіноактор Джеймс Дін (виконавець головних ролей у фільмах "На схід від раю" і "Бунтар без причини"), Дж. Леннон, Бітлз взагалі ("Сержанти"), рок-групи "Птахи," "Гелтер Скелтер," співаки і поети Оззі Осборн ("Джек") і Дженіс Джоплін ("дівчинка, яка співала блюзи"), і багато інших. Рефрен "це буде день, коли я помру" є рядком з поезії Бадді Голлі.Дон Маклін виріс у римо-католицькій родині і був (і зараз є) дуже щиро віруючим християнином, що можна відчути в рядках цієї бурхливо-надхненної, майже феєричної лірики.
AMERICAN PIE
Don McLean
A long, long time ago, I can still remember how that music used to make me smile
And I knew if I had my chance, that I could make those people dance
And maybe they'd be happy for a while
But February made me shiver, with every paper I'd deliver
Bad news on the doorstep, I couldn't take one more step
I can't remember if I cried when I read about his widowed bride
Something touched me deep inside the day the music died
So bye-bye, Miss American Pie
Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry
And them good old boys were drinking whiskey and rye
Singing, "This'll be the day that I die, this'll be the day that I die"
Did you write the book of love and do you have faith in God above if the Bible tells you so?
Now, do you believe in rock-n-roll?
Can music save your mortal soul?
And can you teach me how to dance real slow?
Well, I know that you're in love with him 'cause I saw you dancing in the gym
You both kicked off your shoes
Man, I dig those rhythm and blues
I was a lonely teenage broncin' buck with a pink carnation and a pickup truck
But I knew I was out of luck the day the music died
We started singing, bye-bye, Miss American Pie
Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry
And them good old boys were drinking whiskey and rye
Singing, "This'll be the day that I die, this'll be the day that I die"
Now for ten years we've been on our own
And moss grows fat on a rolling stone
But that's not now it used to be
When the jester sang for the king and queen in a coat he borrowed from James Dean
In a voice, well, it came from you and me
Oh, and while the king was looking down, the jester stole his thorny crown
The courtroom was adjourned
No verdict was returned
And while Lennon read a book on Marx
The quartet practiced in the park
And we sang dirges in the dark the day the music died
We were singing, bye-bye, Miss American Pie
Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry
And them good old boys were drinking whiskey and rye
Singing, "This'll be the day that I die, this'll be the day that I die"
Helter skelter in a summer swelter
The birds flew off with the fallout shelter
Eight miles high and falling fast
It landed foul on the grass, the players tried for a forward pass
With the jester on the sidelines in a cast
Well, the halftime air was sweet perfume while sergeants played a marching tune
We all got up to dance, oh, but we never got the chance
When the players tried to take the field, the marching band refused to yield
Do you recall what was revealed the day the music died?
We were singing, bye-bye, Miss American Pie
Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry
And them good old boys were drinking whiskey and rye
Singing, "This'll be the day that I die, this'll be the day that I die"
And there we were all in one place
A generation lost in space with no time left to start again
So come on, Jack be nimble, Jack be quick, Jack Sprat sat on a candlestick
Cause fire is the devil's only friend
Oh, and as I watched him on the stage, my hands were clenched in fists of rage
No angel born in Hell could break that satanic spell
And as the flames climbed high into the night to light the sacrificial rite
I saw Satan laughing with delight the day the music died
He was singing, bye-bye, Miss American Pie
Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry
And them good old boys were drinking whiskey and rye
Singing, "This'll be the day that I die, this'll be the day that I die"
I met a girl who sang the blues and I asked her for some happy news
But she just smiled and turned away
I went down to the sacred store, where I'd heard the music years before
But the man there said the music wouldn't play
And in the streets, the children screamed
The lovers cried and the poets dreamed
But not a word was spoken...the church bells all were broken
And the three men I admire most, the Father, Son and Holy Ghost
They caught the last train for the coast the day the music died
So bye-bye, Miss American Pie
Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry
And them good old boys were drinking whiskey and rye
Singing, "This'll be the day that I die, this'll be the day that I die"
(1971)
2002.12.03 | Георгій Пінчук
Боб Ділан: "Відповідь бринить у вітрі..."
Боб Ділан не потребує інтродукції :), але ось тут можна прочитати дещо дуже цікаве про зв"язки його лірики з Біблією:http://ancientpaths.literatureclassics.com/ancientpaths/dylan.html
А ось текст однієї з "найкласичніших" пісень дуже раннього Ділана, "Відповідь бринить у вітрі," де він чудово передає напружені духовні пошуки американської молоді кінця 1950-х - початку 1960-х років. (Неповторний голос, гітару і губну гармошку прошу уявляти самостійно :)).
How many roads must a man walk down
Before you call him a man?
Yes, 'n' how many seas must a white dove sail
Before she sleeps in the sand?
Yes, 'n' how many times must the cannon balls fly
Before they're forever banned?
The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind,
The answer is blowin' in the wind.
How many times must a man look up
Before he can see the sky?
Yes, 'n' how many ears must one man have
Before he can hear people cry?
Yes, 'n' how many deaths will it take till he knows
That too many people have died?
The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind,
The answer is blowin' in the wind.
How many years can a mountain exist
Before it's washed to the sea?
Yes, 'n' how many years can some people exist
Before they're allowed to be free?
Yes, 'n' how many times can a man turn his head,
Pretending he just doesn't see?
The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind,
The answer is blowin' in the wind.
(1962)
2002.12.05 | Вільнодум
Re: Боб Ділан: "Відповідь бринить у вітрі..."
Я теж люблю Боба Ділана. Але буде несправедливим вносити його в цю тему "християнської" поезії, бо він не є християнином. Його справжнє прізвище - Зімерман. Був момент коли він прийняв християнство на півтора роки і потім від нього відмовився. За що я його поважаю (за відмову). Бо нема нічого більш духовно збоченого, ніж охрещені євреї, на мою думку.От сторінка:
http://www.radiohazak.com/Dylan.html
Між іншим, декілька тижнів тому був на його концерті. Отримав величезне задоволення!
Щиро,
Вільнодум
2002.12.05 | Георгій Пінчук
Дякую, я не знав цього...
Я знав про його конверсію у християнство, але не знав про його другу конверсію - з християнства в релігійний юдаїзм. Але в цій пісні можна почути не юдейські, а саме християнські, новозавітні алюзії. "How many years must a mountain exist..." - порівняйте Марка 11:23; "How many ears must one man have..." - порівн. Матв. 11:15, і т.д.2002.12.05 | Георгій Пінчук
Арло Гатрі, "Ресторан Аліси"
Арло Гатрі - близький друг і однодумець Боба Ділана, син знаменитого "фолк"-співака Вуді Гатрі - був (і зараз є) цікавим американським поетом і співаком, автором і виконавцем багатьох популярних пісень і баллад. "Ресторан Аліси" - одна з його найвідоміших ранніх баллад, на мою думку справжній шедевр поезії. Автор починає з легкого, хоча й трохи чорнуватого, гумору і продовжує драмою абсурду, яка кульмінує у проникнутий високим громадським пафосом протест проти звірячої і нікому не потрібної війни у В"єтнамі, а також проти антигуманних, поліцейських тенденцій у сучасній американській (та й будь-якій) державі. У цій поезії можна почути також мотиви скорботи, туги з приводу руйнування християнських цінностей (зверніть увагу, де живе родина Аліси і з чого починається конфлікт).Alice's Restaurant
This song is called Alice's Restaurant, and it's about Alice, and the
restaurant, but Alice's Restaurant is not the name of the restaurant,
that's just the name of the song, and that's why I called the song Alice's
Restaurant.
You can get anything you want at Alice's Restaurant
You can get anything you want at Alice's Restaurant
Walk right in it's around the back
Just a half a mile from the railroad track
You can get anything you want at Alice's Restaurant
Now it all started two Thanksgivings ago, was on - two years ago on
Thanksgiving, when my friend and I went up to visit Alice at the
restaurant, but Alice doesn't live in the restaurant, she lives in the
church nearby the restaurant, in the bell-tower, with her husband Ray and
Fasha the dog. And livin' in the bell tower like that, they got a lot of
room downstairs where the pews used to be in. Havin' all that room,
seein' as how they took out all the pews, they decided that they didn't
have to take out their garbage for a long time.
We got up there, we found all the garbage in there, and we decided it'd be
a friendly gesture for us to take the garbage down to the city dump. So
we took the half a ton of garbage, put it in the back of a red VW
microbus, took shovels and rakes and implements of destruction and headed
on toward the city dump.
Well we got there and there was a big sign and a chain across across the
dump saying, "Closed on Thanksgiving." And we had never heard of a dump
closed on Thanksgiving before, and with tears in our eyes we drove off
into the sunset looking for another place to put the garbage.
We didn't find one. Until we came to a side road, and off the side of the
side road there was another fifteen foot cliff and at the bottom of the
cliff there was another pile of garbage. And we decided that one big pile
is better than two little piles, and rather than bring that one up we
decided to throw our's down.
That's what we did, and drove back to the church, had a thanksgiving
dinner that couldn't be beat, went to sleep and didn't get up until the
next morning, when we got a phone call from officer Obie. He said, "Kid,
we found your name on an envelope at the bottom of a half a ton of
garbage, and just wanted to know if you had any information about it." And
I said, "Yes, sir, Officer Obie, I cannot tell a lie, I put that envelope
under that garbage."
After speaking to Obie for about fourty-five minutes on the telephone we
finally arrived at the truth of the matter and said that we had to go down
and pick up the garbage, and also had to go down and speak to him at the
police officer's station. So we got in the red VW microbus with the
shovels and rakes and implements of destruction and headed on toward the
police officer's station.
Now friends, there was only one or two things that Obie coulda done at
the police station, and the first was he could have given us a medal for
being so brave and honest on the telephone, which wasn't very likely, and
we didn't expect it, and the other thing was he could have bawled us out
and told us never to be see driving garbage around the vicinity again,
which is what we expected, but when we got to the police officer's station
there was a third possibility that we hadn't even counted upon, and we was
both immediately arrested. Handcuffed. And I said "Obie, I don't think I
can pick up the garbage with these handcuffs on." He said, "Shut up, kid.
Get in the back of the patrol car."
And that's what we did, sat in the back of the patrol car and drove to the
quote Scene of the Crime unquote. I want tell you about the town of
Stockbridge, Massachusets, where this happened here, they got three stop
signs, two police officers, and one police car, but when we got to the
Scene of the Crime there was five police officers and three police cars,
being the biggest crime of the last fifty years, and everybody wanted to
get in the newspaper story about it. And they was using up all kinds of
cop equipment that they had hanging around the police officer's station.
They was taking plaster tire tracks, foot prints, dog smelling prints, and
they took twenty seven eight-by-ten colour glossy photographs with circles
and arrows and a paragraph on the back of each one explaining what each
one was to be used as evidence against us. Took pictures of the approach,
the getaway, the northwest corner the southwest corner and that's not to
mention the aerial photography.
After the ordeal, we went back to the jail. Obie said he was going to put
us in the cell. Said, "Kid, I'm going to put you in the cell, I want your
wallet and your belt." And I said, "Obie, I can understand you wanting my
wallet so I don't have any money to spend in the cell, but what do you
want my belt for?" And he said, "Kid, we don't want any hangings." I
said, "Obie, did you think I was going to hang myself for littering?"
Obie said he was making sure, and friends Obie was, cause he took out the
toilet seat so I couldn't hit myself over the head and drown, and he took
out the toilet paper so I couldn't bend the bars roll out the - roll the
toilet paper out the window, slide down the roll and have an escape. Obie
was making sure, and it was about four or five hours later that Alice
(remember Alice? It's a song about Alice), Alice came by and with a few
nasty words to Obie on the side, bailed us out of jail, and we went back
to the church, had a another thanksgiving dinner that couldn't be beat,
and didn't get up until the next morning, when we all had to go to court.
We walked in, sat down, Obie came in with the twenty seven eight-by-ten
colour glossy pictures with circles and arrows and a paragraph on the back
of each one, sat down. Man came in said, "All rise." We all stood up,
and Obie stood up with the twenty seven eight-by-ten colour glossy
pictures, and the judge walked in sat down with a seeing eye dog, and he
sat down, we sat down. Obie looked at the seeing eye dog, and then at the
twenty seven eight-by-ten colour glossy pictures with circles and arrows
and a paragraph on the back of each one, and looked at the seeing eye dog.
And then at twenty seven eight-by-ten colour glossy pictures with circles
and arrows and a paragraph on the back of each one and began to cry,
'cause Obie came to the realization that it was a typical case of American
blind justice, and there wasn't nothing he could do about it, and the
judge wasn't going to look at the twenty seven eight-by-ten colour glossy
pictures with the circles and arrows and a paragraph on the back of each
one explaining what each one was to be used as evidence against us. And
we was fined $50 and had to pick up the garbage in the snow, but thats not
what I came to tell you about.
Came to talk about the draft.
They got a building down New York City, it's called Whitehall Street,
where you walk in, you get injected, inspected, detected, infected,
neglected and selected. I went down to get my physical examination one
day, and I walked in, I sat down, got good and drunk the night before, so
I looked and felt my best when I went in that morning. `Cause I wanted to
look like the all-American kid from New York City, man I wanted, I wanted
to feel like the all-, I wanted to be the all American kid from New York,
and I walked in, sat down, I was hung down, brung down, hung up, and all
kinds o' mean nasty ugly things. And I waked in and sat down and they gave
me a piece of paper, said, "Kid, see the phsychiatrist, room 604."
And I went up there, I said, "Shrink, I want to kill. I mean, I wanna, I
wanna kill. Kill. I wanna, I wanna see, I wanna see blood and gore and
guts and veins in my teeth. Eat dead burnt bodies. I mean kill, Kill,
KILL, KILL." And I started jumpin up and down yelling, "KILL, KILL," and
he started jumpin up and down with me and we was both jumping up and down
yelling, "KILL, KILL." And the sargent came over, pinned a medal on me,
sent me down the hall, said, "You're our boy."
Didn't feel too good about it.
Proceeded on down the hall gettin more injections, inspections,
detections, neglections and all kinds of stuff that they was doin' to me
at the thing there, and I was there for two hours, three hours, four
hours, I was there for a long time going through all kinds of mean nasty
ugly things and I was just having a tough time there, and they was
inspecting, injecting every single part of me, and they was leaving no
part untouched. Proceeded through, and when I finally came to the see the
last man, I walked in, walked in sat down after a whole big thing there,
and I walked up and said, "What do you want?" He said, "Kid, we only got
one question. Have you ever been arrested?"
And I proceeded to tell him the story of the Alice's Restaurant Massacre,
with full orchestration and five part harmony and stuff like that and all
the phenome... - and he stopped me right there and said, "Kid, did you ever
go to court?"
And I proceeded to tell him the story of the twenty seven eight-by-ten
colour glossy pictures with the circles and arrows and the paragraph on
the back of each one, and he stopped me right there and said, "Kid, I want
you to go and sit down on that bench that says Group W .... NOW kid!!"
And I, I walked over to the, to the bench there, and there is, Group W's
where they put you if you may not be moral enough to join the army after
committing your special crime, and there was all kinds of mean nasty ugly
looking people on the bench there. Mother rapers. Father stabbers. Father
rapers! Father rapers sitting right there on the bench next to me! And
they was mean and nasty and ugly and horrible crime-type guys sitting on the
bench next to me. And the meanest, ugliest, nastiest one, the meanest
father raper of them all, was coming over to me and he was mean 'n' ugly
'n' nasty 'n' horrible and all kind of things and he sat down next to me
and said, "Kid, whad'ya get?" I said, "I didn't get nothing, I had to pay
$50 and pick up the garbage." He said, "What were you arrested for, kid?"
And I said, "Littering." And they all moved away from me on the bench
there, and the hairy eyeball and all kinds of mean nasty things, till I
said, "And creating a nuisance." And they all came back, shook my hand,
and we had a great time on the bench, talkin about crime, mother stabbing,
father raping, all kinds of groovy things that we was talking about on the
bench. And everything was fine, we was smoking cigarettes and all kinds of
things, until the Sargeant came over, had some paper in his hand, held it
up and said.
"Kids, this-piece-of-paper's-got-47-words-37-sentences-58-words-we-wanna-
know-details-of-the-crime-time-of-the-crime-and-any-other-kind-of-thing-
you-gotta-say-pertaining-to-and-about-the-crime-I-want-to-know-arresting-
officer's-name-and-any-other-kind-of-thing-you-gotta-say", and talked for
forty-five minutes and nobody understood a word that he said, but we had
fun filling out the forms and playing with the pencils on the bench there,
and I filled out the massacre with the four part harmony, and wrote it
down there, just like it was, and everything was fine and I put down the
pencil, and I turned over the piece of paper, and there, there on the
other side, in the middle of the other side, away from everything else on
the other side, in parentheses, capital letters, quotated, read the
following words:
("KID, HAVE YOU REHABILITATED YOURSELF?")
I went over to the sargent, said, "Sargeant, you got a lot a damn gall to
ask me if I've rehabilitated myself, I mean, I mean, I mean that just, I'm
sittin' here on the bench, I mean I'm sittin here on the Group W bench
'cause you want to know if I'm moral enough join the army, burn women,
kids, houses and villages after bein' a litterbug." He looked at me and
said, "Kid, we don't like your kind, and we're gonna send you fingerprints
off to Washington."
And friends, somewhere in Washington enshrined in some little folder, is a
study in black and white of my fingerprints. And the only reason I'm
singing you this song now is cause you may know somebody in a similar
situation, or you may be in a similar situation, and if your in a
situation like that there's only one thing you can do and that's walk into
the shrink wherever you are ,just walk in say "Shrink, You can get
anything you want, at Alice's restaurant.". And walk out. You know, if
one person, just one person does it they may think he's really sick and
they won't take him. And if two people, two people do it, in harmony,
they may think they're both faggots and they won't take either of them.
And three people do it, three, can you imagine, three people walking in
singin a bar of Alice's Restaurant and walking out. They may think it's an
organization. And can you, can you imagine fifty people a day,I said
fifty people a day walking in singin a bar of Alice's Restaurant and
walking out. And friends they may thinks it's a movement.
And that's what it is , the Alice's Restaurant Anti-Massacre Movement, and
all you got to do to join is sing it the next time it come's around on the
guitar.
With feeling. So we'll wait for it to come around on the guitar, here and
sing it when it does. Here it comes.
You can get anything you want, at Alice's Restaurant
You can get anything you want, at Alice's Restaurant
Walk right in it's around the back
Just a half a mile from the railroad track
You can get anything you want, at Alice's Restaurant
That was horrible. If you want to end war and stuff you got to sing loud.
I've been singing this song now for twenty five minutes. I could sing it
for another twenty five minutes. I'm not proud... or tired.
So we'll wait till it comes around again, and this time with four part
harmony and feeling.
We're just waitin' for it to come around is what we're doing.
All right now.
You can get anything you want, at Alice's Restaurant
Excepting Alice
You can get anything you want, at Alice's Restaurant
Walk right in it's around the back
Just a half a mile from the railroad track
You can get anything you want, at Alice's Restaurant
Da da da da da da da dum
At Alice's Restaurant
(1966)