So Stephen Patrick Morrissey turns 50 today…
A man of words that have changed the world. A lover of books, a reader complete… And indeed, one of the first Goths of our time.
His favorite author is Oscar Wilde and in some ways Morrissey himself is (or was) a modern day Wilde. His talent abounds; his fertility with language and metaphor continue to sway and corrupt even the most steadfastly beige lives. He’s one of my heroes, and today he reaches a half-century.
Morrissey began his career as the front man and lyricist for The Smiths (one of the most enduring and influential bands coming out of the 80’s). He then went on to have a soaringly successful solo career that still continues to this day.
All lovers of books, reading, and writing would do well to consider Morrissey’s work.
“All over this town
Yes, a low wind may blow
And I can see through everybody’s clothes
With no reason
To hide these words I feel
And no reason
To talk about the books I read
But still I do
That’s ’cause I’m a … Sister I’m a …poet
All over this town
Along this way
Outside the prison gates
I love the romance of crime
And I wonder
Does anybody feel the way I do ?
And is evil just something you are
Or something you do ?”
How literary some of his songs are: This one’s called “Cemetery Gates”
A dreaded sunny day
so I meet you at the cemetry gates
Keats and Yeats are on your side
A dreaded sunny day
so I meet you at the cemetry gates
Keats and Yeats are on your side
while Wilde is on mine
So we go inside and we gravely read the stones
all those people all those lives
where are they now ?
with loves, and hates
and passions just like mine
they were born
and then they lived and then they died
which seems so unfair
and I want to cry
You say: “ere thrice the sun hath done salutation to the dawn”
and you claim these words as your own
but I’m well-read, have heard them said
a hundred times (maybe less, maybe more)
if you must write prose/poems
the words you use should be your own
don’t plagiarize or take “on loans”
there’s always someone, somewhere
with a big nose, who knows
and who trips you up and laughs
when you fall
You say: “ere long done do does did “
words which could only be your own
you then produce the text
from whence was ripped
(some dizzy whore, 1804)
A dreaded sunny day
so let’s go where we’re happy
so I meet you at the cemetry gates
Keats and Yeats are on your side
A dreaded sunny day
so let’s go where we’re wanted
so I meet you at the cemetry gates
Keats and Yeats are on your side
but you lose
because Wilde is on mine
