Well ,poets, you feeling lucky?

HEADLIGHTS OUT'A HERE

I know what you're thinking — " Will he set six tasks or only five?" Well, to tell you the truth, in all this excitement, I've kinda lost track myself. But, being this is an almond flavoured Magnum the most powerful ice-cream in the world and would blow your head clean off, you've got to ask yourself one question: "Do I feel lucky?" Well, do ya, poet? Go ahead make my day dudes ,join in with the next trip of the light fantastic otherwise known as TFE's global poetry extravaganza par excellence in the community, a trans global 'if the kids are united they will never be divided' peace and harmony project funded entirely from the sale of Jimmy the Butlers (confiscated) soft porn collection on ebay. Yesterdays response was gratifying in the extreme which is a strange phenomenon for me-again.Being some half-arsed class of clown who somewhat pretentiously strives to be something akin to somebody who writes stuff,I am of course incredibly egotistical, it's all about ME,why else would I blog? For world peace? I don't think so. And yet here I am all excited about what YOUS have written and the buzz is no longer ,'look what I've written, aren't i the great little fecker altogether', but look what THEY have written (albeit still with a muted' aren't I a great little fecker altogether for prompting them') So very well done to all of ye and thanks a million for joining in. For this weeks task I thought it might be interesting to see what happens if we did exactly the same exercise but this time all listen to the same piece of music. I've chosen(Oh, the sweet intoxication of POWER) 'My Hometown' by Bruce Springsteen, the final track on his 'Born in the USA' album. Now everybody in the world has this album and if you don't ,apart from wondering how you could have gone so horribly wrong in your life thus far, I am posting not only a you tube link http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bvNUOElgmnk but a copy of the lyrics

was eight years old and running with a dime in my hand
Into the bus stop to pick up a paper for my old man
Id sit on his lap in that big old buick and steer as we drove through town
Hed tousle my hair and say son take a good look around
This is your hometown, this is your hometown
This is your hometown, this is your hometown

In `65 tension was running high at my high school
There was a lot of fights between the black and white
There was nothing you could do
Two cars at a light on a saturday night in the back seat there was a gun
Words were passed in a shotgun blast
Troubled times had come to my hometown
My hometown, my hometown, my hometown

Now main streets whitewashed windows and vacant stores
Seems like there aint nobody wants to come down here no more
Theyre closing down the textile mill across the railroad tracks
Foreman says these jobs are going boys and they aint coming back to
Your hometown, your hometown, your hometown, your hometown

Last night me and kate we laid in bed talking about getting out
Packing up our bags maybe heading south
Im thirty-five we got a boy of our own now
Last night I sat him up behind the wheel and said son take a good
Look around
This is your hometown

for you to peruse.The song is salt, you are water,rational thought is the membrane through which, by the process of osmosis, you will absorb inspiration and produce your own masterpiece. Home, what is it,where is it, does it exist, is it where we are born ,where we live,where the heart is, within us -or without us,do we ever truly find it at all?These are the thoughts but the song is the catalyst.Write about home ,write about the song, write about a bird on the wire,a bird in the cage, write about quantum physics, a penny chew,Che Guevara, Aldi prices,botulism,Hippos..whatever comes to ya , JUST WRITE- Well poets, you feeling Lucky?