He returns to the everyday "Boogy Street"; but with an enhanced view of his place in the scheme of things.
I offer an interpretation; but that is all it is and all it can be.
(Of course, you hang onto your own.)
I'll get better as I go along; but if this sort of thing bores you, then move on.
The process will be simple. I will post the poem first, and then, saunter through what I see, adding a bit here and there as I morph into the thought before the word, or the nameless before the name.
That Don't Make It Junk
I fought against the bottle,
But I had to do it drunk –
Took my diamond to the pawnshop –
But that don’t make it junk.
I know that I’m forgiven,
But I don’t know how I know
I don’t trust my inner feelings –
Inner feelings come and go.
How come you called me here tonight?
How come you bother
With my heart at all?
You raise me up in grace,
Then you put me in a place,
Where I must fall.
Too late to fix another drink –
The lights are going out –
I’ll listen to the darkness sing –
I know what that’s about.
I tried to love you my way,
But I couldn’t make it hold.
So I closed the Book of Longing
And I do what I am told.
How come you called me here tonight?
How come you bother with my heart at all?
You raise me up in grace,
Then you put me in a place,
Where I must fall.
I fought against the bottle,
But I had to do it drunk –
Took my diamond to the pawnshop –
But that don’t make it junk.
Interpretation (or folly)I fought against the bottle,
But I had to do it drunk –
Took my diamond to the pawnshop –
But that don’t make it junk.
I had to get drunk on life in order to understand life.
My "higher moments" I recorded in songs and poetry, and these are my "diamonds" and diamonds are not only valuable today, but diamonds are forever, as the saying goes.
The pawn shop for me is popular music. He pawned his poetry in pop music, "but that don't make it junk". While he does not claim to be up there with the best of poetry, of scripture, he knows he has sought and he knows he has found.
I'll continue at leisure.
Matj