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brandon nagley Apr 2017
You walk into the room with your pencil in your hand
You see somebody naked and you say, "Who is that man?"
You try so hard but you don't understand
Just what you will say when you get home
Because something is happening here but you don't know what it is
Do you, Mr. Jones?
You raise up your head and you ask, "Is this where it is?"
And somebody points to you and says, "It's his"
And you say, "What's mine?" and somebody else says, "Well, what is?"
And you say, "Oh my God, am I here all alone?"
But something is happening and you don't know what it is
Do you, Mr. Jones?
You hand in your ticket and you go watch the geek
Who immediately walks up to you when he hears you speak
And says, "How does it feel to be such a freak?"
And you say, "Impossible!" as he hands you a bone
And something is happening here but you don't know what it is
Do you, Mr. Jones?
You have many contacts among the lumberjacks
To get you facts when someone attacks your imagination
But nobody has any respect, anyway they already expect you to all give a check
To tax-deductible charity organizations
Ah, you've been with the professors and they've all liked your looks
With great lawyers you have discussed lepers and crooks
You've been through all of F. Scott Fitzgerald's books
You're very well-read, it's well-known
But something is happening here and you don't know what it is
Do you, Mr. Jones?
Well, the sword swallower, he comes up to you and then he kneels
He crosses himself and then he clicks his high heels
And without further notice, he asks you how it feels
And he says, "Here is your throat back, thanks for the loan"
And you know something is happening but you don't know what it is
Do you, Mr. Jones?
Now, you see this one-eyed ****** shouting the word "Now"
And you say, "For what reason?" and he says, "How"
And you say, "What does this mean?" and he screams back, "You're a cow!
Give me some milk or else go home"
And you know something's happening but you don't know what it is
Do you, Mr. Jones?
Well, you walk into the room like a camel, and then you frown
You put your eyes in your pocket and your nose on the ground
There ought to be a law against you comin' around
You should be made to wear earphones
'Cause something is happening and you don't know what it is
Do you, Mr. Jones?
Ballad of a Thin Man" is a dirge song written and recorded by Bob Dylan, and released as the final track on Side One of his sixth album, Highway 61 Revisited, in 1965.
Dylan's song revolves around the mishaps of a Mr. Jones, who keeps blundering into strange situations, and the more questions he asks, the less the world makes sense to him. Critic Andy Gill called the song "one of Dylan's most unrelenting inquisitions, a furious, sneering, dressing-down of a hapless bourgeois intruder into the hipster world of freaks and weirdoes which Dylan now inhabited."[6]

In August 1965, soon after recording the song, when questioned by Nora Ephron and Susan Edmiston about the identity of Mr. Jones, Dylan was deadpan: "He's a real person. You know him, but not by that name... I saw him come into the room one night and he looked like a camel. He proceeded to put his eyes in his pocket. I asked this guy who he was and he said, 'That's Mr. Jones.' Then I asked this cat, 'Doesn't he do anything but put his eyes in his pocket?' And he told me, 'He puts his nose on the ground.' It's all there, it's a true story."[7] At a press conference in San Francisco in December 1965, Dylan supplied more information about Mr. Jones: "He's a pinboy. He also wears suspenders."[8]

In March 1986, Dylan told his audience in Japan: "This is a song I wrote a while back in response to people who ask me questions all the time. You just get tired of that every once in a while. You just don't want to answer no more questions. I figure a person’s life speaks for itself, right? So, every once in a while you got to do this kind of thing, you got to put somebody in their place... So this is my response to something that happened over in England. I think it was about '63, '64. [sic] Anyway the song still holds up. Seems to be people around still like that. So I still sing it. It's called 'Ballad Of A Thin Man'."[9]

There has been speculation whether Mr. Jones was based on a specific journalist.[6] In 1975, reporter Jeffrey Jones "outed" himself in a Rolling Stone article, describing how he had attempted to interview Dylan at the 1965 Newport Folk Festival. When Dylan and his entourage later chanced on the hapless reporter in the hotel dining room, Dylan shouted mockingly, "Mr. Jones! Gettin' it all down, Mr. Jones?"[10] When Bill Flanagan asked Dylan, in 1990, whether one reporter could claim all the credit for Mr. Jones, Dylan replied: "There were a lot of Mister Joneses at that time. Obviously there must have been a tremendous amount of them for me to write that particular song. It was like, 'Oh man, here's the thousandth Mister Jones'."[11]

In the John Lennon-penned Beatles song "Yer Blues", Lennon describes the character as "suicidal", and that he feels "just like Dylan's Mr. Jones".
  Apr 2017 brandon nagley
Lora Lee
sparks of you
           lie within me
               not dormant but
            silently active
a volcano on hold
         embers in the haze
            of intensity's throb
                  and glow
my heartflames
supposedly on low
your bones are
almost molten
melding with my own
and my cells are
tiny brush fires
craving a certain water
but not just
                    any kind
I need liquids
fresh from the spring
                 icy seas
to cool my heat of soul, of ****
and gelatinous nomenclature
that clings to my tongue
I need my loops of wild light
to be egged on in the
right fluorescence
yet calmed as I spin
into your sphere

Quiet, now. Just hush up
Put your hand on my chest
          feel the beats
   calm my frenzied wires
drench my parched lingual
       expressions with your
              aqua pura
the salty sweetness
of deep desires quenched
I need soil
of the right kind
I am not a desert flower
but I have thrived
in the dry cracked
barren lands
       sunstreaks in my hair
              blooms have burst forth from
          the ******-in parchment
of my skin
making it smooth and dewy
and despite themselves,
festoons of flowers
decorate the pain.
belly deep
fill the milky white
of ******* with colors
releasing the constant,
strict tightening
pressing on my chest
and if given the
right conditions
this volcano
will
      so deliciously
erupt
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AMuUPSTMPX0

www.youtube.com/watch?v=K6pjQSjwrCs

]www.youtube.com/watch?v=uVFvA8dCKp4
brandon nagley Apr 2017
i.

Debased, feeling unworthy, I was a shackled, debackled
Seeking, looking, yearning, in all the wrong place's;
Seeing a billion face's, none I couldst connecteth to
I sought a spirit, an unknown so true, one to maketh me alive.

ii.

Betwixt the contour of blood and gore, that this place hath spilt
Lava poured downward, no smelling perfume's, devil endorsed;
I bit mine lip's from the pinch of the blaze, demon's eye's glazed
None water, none rain, as tis this dungeon was a devlish porch.

iii.

In shock, mine pupil's rolled to the back of mine bone
I felteth left behind, none amour', none more safety abode;
BLASTTTTTTTTTTT, cameth a flicker, a Cosmos shaking
The earth quaking, beneath mine toe's, mine being felt so whole.

iv.

I cleped out this stardust cloaked Reyna's name, O' Reyna,
Whence thou cometh, thee is it, I've known from past living's;
I grabbed tightly, to her Filipino strand garb, as I felt the falling rain stain's cometh down her cheek's, Hi Brandon, I'm Mrs nagley.

v.

Kilig hadst grabbed mine inside's, as for with her I took a ride
We spaceshipped to the milky way, I met archangel's of divine;
Here was none time, just ion's of delighting peace, west and east
I bowed mine cranium, as I kneweth she was mine wife, O' life.

O' angelic saving wife.........
©Brandon nagley
©Earl Jane nagley/Filipino rose/ saved mine life dedication
©Lonesome poet's poetry
#daily   #im   #happiness   #lovers   #forever   #saved   #hari   #reyna   #earl-jane-nagley   #she-saves-me
  Apr 2017 brandon nagley
Gidgette
Tulips catch sky water for the fairies today
Late blooming March Bells,
the only sun
Dandelions dance, taking even the breath of The Almighty
In their glistening glory
Weeping Cherry tree sways, as though she's a ballerina,
Covered in perfectly cut crystals
Oil on the street,
becomes a rainbow with fragments of light,
stolen from heaven
As I watch,
Heaven falls
Making love with every earthen thing
giving shine
Love
Nourishing
Spring Rains
My love to each and everyone of you. Really<3
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