Bob Dylan was asked to give 25 words on Woody Guthrie, he wrote 1,705 beautiful ones - Listen
The 2016 Nobel Prize for Literature winner
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Your support makes all the difference.Bob Dylan was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature today, having "created new poetic expressions within the great American song tradition”.
He is undoubtedly a man of words as much as he is a man of music, as typified by this poem ‘Last Thoughts on Woody Guthrie’, which he has only read aloud once, reciting it at New York City’s Town Hall in 1963.
Introducing the poem, Dylan told the crowd he had been asked to “write something about Woody...what does Woody Guthrie mean to you in twenty-five words,” for an upcoming book on the singer-songwriter.
He explained that he “couldn't do it - I wrote out five pages, and, I have it here, have it here by accident, actually."
What followed was not a simple eulogy, but a lengthy missive on the necessity of hope, and how it can as readily be found in Guthrie’s music as it can be in religion.
The majority of the poem focuses poignantly on where hope won’t be found however, here’s just a selection (full reading in the video above):
Cause you can't find it on a dollar bill
And it ain't on Macy's window sill
And it ain't on no rich kid's road map
And it ain't in no fat kid's fraternity house
And it ain't made in no Hollywood wheat germ
And it ain't on that dimlit stage
With that half-wit comedian on it
Ranting and raving and taking yer money
And you thinks it's funny
No you can't find it in no night club or no yacht club
And it ain't in the seats of a supper club
And sure as hell you're bound to tell
That no matter how hard you rub
You just ain't a-gonna find it on yer ticket stub
No, and it ain't in the rumors people're tellin' you
And it ain't in the pimple-lotion people are sellin' you
And it ain't in no cardboard-box house
Or down any movie star's blouse
And you can't find it on the golf course
And Uncle Remus can't tell you and neither can Santa Claus
And it ain't in the cream puff hair-do or cotton candy clothes
And it ain't in the dime store dummies or bubblegum goons
And it ain't in the marshmallow noises of the chocolate cake voices
That come knockin' and tappin' in Christmas wrappin'
Sayin' ain't I pretty and ain't I cute and look at my skin
Look at my skin shine, look at my skin glow
Look at my skin laugh, look at my skin cry
When you can't even sense if they got any insides
These people so pretty in their ribbons and bows
No you'll not now or no other day
Find it on the doorsteps made out-a paper mache¥
And inside it the people made of molasses
That every other day buy a new pair of sunglasses
And it ain't in the fifty-star generals and flipped-out phonies
Who'd turn yuh in for a tenth of a penny
Who breathe and burp and bend and crack
And before you can count from one to ten
Do it all over again but this time behind yer back
My friend
The ones that wheel and deal and whirl and twirl
And play games with each other in their sand-box world
And you can't find it either in the no-talent fools
That run around gallant
And make all rules for the ones that got talent
And it ain't in the ones that ain't got any talent but think they do
And think they're foolin' you
The ones who jump on the wagon
Just for a while 'cause they know it's in style
To get their kicks, get out of it quick
And make all kinds of money and chicks
And you yell to yourself and you throw down yer hat
Sayin', "Christ do I gotta be like that
Ain't there no one here that knows where I'm at
Ain't there no one here that knows how I feel
Good God Almighty
That stuff ain't real.
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