Last Thoughts on Bob Dylan

by
Al Sharratt

When it hits you, it hits you hard; 
Like a train in the night 
It moves beyond sight, 
Incessantly, relentlessly, 
Overwhelming every thought, 
Every waking movement, Every word spoken, 
Every gift taken, every promise broken 
Every journey driven, every door opened, 
Every order given and every gesture, token. 
But as this storm blows 
You still don't quite know 
What has knocked you to your knees, 
And swept the carpet from under you, 
Grabbed and twisted and spun you 
Like the record you were listening to 
Or the wheel that was carrying you, 
Like the machine that washed the clothes that cover you, 
Or the turning of the planet that carries you. 
And You still can't see who said 
That thing that you heard 
When you were lay with that girl, 
When you wore that coat that you bought 
Or when you thought that thought. 
And you still don't know 
What it meant when the words revealed a picture, 
And it feels that someone has lifted you from the room 
And showed you something that you just can't remember 
When he put you down again. 
And you still don't know who taught you 
To see through the man who sold you 
That magazine you're reading, 
Or that food that you're eating, 
Or the drum that's a-beating. 
But you know that you've changed 
And you can't quite think how 
But you know you've been different from how you are now, 
'Cause you can see through people 
Who walk the walk 
And talk the talk, 
Who bring people to their knees 
Just to help them succeed, 
And use others like a ladder 
To help them get higher 
Up the mountain of liars, 
But You see through them like glass, 
And you know that they're fast 
'Cause every day they wear a different mask 
That tells a different story 
And buys a different car 
So that they can go far 
With their pretty little chics 
But it's makin' you sick 
It's makin' you feel like You're the one 
With no race to be won, 
And you say to yourself 
'Why can't they see 
That what they're doin' ain't right, 
That what they're sayin' ain't real' 
And you'd do anything just to feel 
That they still know when to kneel 
In the presence of the one who can heal 
All their pains and their ills. 
And you know that there's hope 
For these people in their toy box homes 
'Cause before it hit you 
You spoke with the same tones. 
But no longer, 
No more do you believe in fate 
Anymore than in a politician’s aches, 
Or in the art in the Tate 
Or in the evolving turned innate, 
'Cause you've been shown the difference 
Between a man who writes and a man who rights, 
Between the adman's plight and the children who fight, 
Between the idols who lead and those who heed, 
Between the poor man's needs and the murderer freed. 
And you've been swept by the tide of reason 
On to a beach where no drink can lift you beyond 
Any other man, woman or unholy bond, 
Where one person's face is the same as another's, 
And two different men can live as brothers, 
Even if they have different clothes or skin, 
Tongues or kin, fat or thin, cleaner or King. 
And in this place that you're in 
There are no sins, 
Except the sins of deception and rejection, 
Cowardice and prejudice, 
Seduction and destruction, 
For the heights that you’ve reached 
Are only seen by a few, 
Like the peak of a mountain 
Or the sweet morning dew 
And it seems that you have been chosen 
To walk a better future, 
And keep meagre the work of the preacher, 
‘Cause you recognise the ways of the villain, 
And you've walked with Bob Dylan. 

(Last Thoughts on Woody Guthrie by Bob Dylan)
 

Reproduced with permission.

Expecting Rain

19990703