She will kiss you ’til your lips bleed
But she will not take her dress off
Americana, Tropicana
All the sailor boys have demons
They sing oh Kentucky
why did you forsake me?
If I was meant to sail the sea
Why did you make me?
It should’ve been another state, oh state
Because Mary Anne’s a bitch
Mary Anne’s a bitch
Mary Anne’s a bitch
Mary Anne’s a bitch
Mary Anne’s a bitch
Mary Anne’s a bitch
Does it matter that our anchor
Couldn’t even reach the bottom of a bath tub?
And the sails reflect the moon
It’s such a strange job
playing Black Jack on the deck
Still, atop this giant bottle
dressed in white we quietly huddle with our missiles
And we miss the girls back home
Oh home sweet home
Because Mary Anne’s a bitch
Mary Anne’s a bitch
Mary Anne’s a bitch
Mary Anne’s a bitch
Mary Anne’s a bitch
Mary Anne’s a bitch
She will kiss until your lips bleed
But she will not take her dress off
Americana, Tropicana
Americana, Tropicana
Americana, Americana
I posted this poem because I really love the imagery and the twists of bottles and tubs, missiles and kisses. Her words are as sweet and varied as verses — sung in staccato, spiccato, and legato. She’s so very prescient, but my favorite work of hers lately is actually Fidelity. I wonder if there is any connection since the guy in Fidelity resembles a Russian sailor…
Cat! who hast pass’d thy grand climacteric,
How many mice and rats hast in thy days
Destroy’d? How many tit bits stolen? Gaze
With those bright languid segments green, and prick
Those velvet ears – but pr’ythee do not stick
Thy latent talons in me – and upraise
Thy gentle mew – and tell me all thy frays,
Of fish and mice, and rats and tender chick.
Nay, look not down, nor lick thy dainty wrists –
For all thy wheezy asthma – and for all
Thy tail’s tip is nick’d off – and though the fists
Of many a maid have given thee many a maul,
Still is that fur as soft, as when the lists
In youth thou enter’dest on glass bottled wall.
Cuando estuve en el mar era marino
este dolor sin prisas.
Dame ahora tu boca:
me la quiero comer con tu sonrisa.
Cuando estuve en el cielo era celeste
este dolor urgente.
Dame ahora tu alma:
quiero clavarle el diente.
No me des nada, amor, no me des nada:
yo te tomo en el viento,
te tomo del arroyo de la sombra,
del giro de la luz y del silencio,
de la piel de las cosas
y de la sangre con que subo al tiempo.
Tú eres un surtidor aunque no quieras
y yo soy el sediento.
No me hables, si quieres, no me toques,
no me conozcas más, yo ya no existo.
Yo soy sólo la vida que te acosa
y tú eres la muerte que resisto.
WHEN I WAS AT SEA IT WAS MARINE…
When I was at sea it was marine
this pain without haste.
Give me your mouth now:
I want to eat it with your smile.
When I was in the sky it was celestial
this urgent pain.
Give me your soul now:
I want to sink my teeth in it.
Give me nothing love, give me nothing:
I drink you up in the wind,
I drink you from the stream of shadow,
from the turn of light and silence,
from the skin of things
and from the blood with which I raise time.
You are the source although you deny it
And I am the thirsty one
Don’t talk to me, if you want, don’t touch me,
cease to know me, I no longer exist.
I am only the life that haunts you
And you are the death that I resist.
a blog about the poetry of information security, since 1995