Category Archives: Poetry

Strange Fruit

MySpace is best when it’s showing off talent. Not just any talent, and definitely not the sort marked by a giant “approved by WalMart” advertisement, but the sort of talent that jumps forth and exceeds expectations. The value of the record industry is turned on its head when you pare back the layers of smarmy marketing, like eschewing the circus in favor of a troubadour act at the local cafe or pub.

Straight, no chaser, in drink terms, Maya Yianni is one of those to watch. I can’t get over the clarity of her voice.

Interesting that she includes videos of her idols on her page, perhaps for comparison. First is Ella Fitzgerald:

She also has Billie Holliday’s rendition of Strange Fruit, a poem by Abel Meeropol (1903 – 1986) written under the pseudonym Lewis Allan:

Southern trees bear strange fruit,
Blood on the leaves and blood at the root,
Black bodies swinging in the southern breeze,
Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees.

Pastoral scene of the gallant south,
The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth,
Scent of magnolias, sweet and fresh,
Then the sudden smell of burning flesh.

Here is fruit for the crows to pluck,
For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck,
For the sun to rot, for the trees to drop,
Here is a strange and bitter crop.

The hidden irony of this particular song is that while Strange Fruit was popular after Holiday first sang it in a New York club in 1938, the major recording companies refused to produce it. Too controversial for her label, Columbia Records, a small record company (Commodore Records) finally published Holiday’s rendition. Today it is considered her signature song. A recent documentary tells the full story.

Another little bit of trivia is that a record company under the name Strange Fruit was formed in the UK the same year that the poet, schoolteacher and union activist Abel Meeropol passed away.

The Rape of Europa

I just saw this, on the recommendation of a friend, and I have to say it was an excellent film.

The Rape of Europa tells the epic story of the systematic theft, deliberate destruction and miraculous survival of Europe’s art treasures during the Third Reich and World War II.

On the one hand it’s a fascinating modern tale of tragedy. The movie does a fine job working within a narrow band of time. However, I couldn’t help but wonder on the other hand about the larger picture (pun not intended) of conquest throughout the ages. For example, many of the items in modern galleries around the world, such as the British archives, were looted from foreign lands during times of conquest and conflict. But I guess the point is that if we limit our scope to the 1930s and 1940s, the Germans (and maybe the Russians) turned out to be the undisputed bad guys of the (art) world.

Needless to say, the movie also focused in on physical objects of treasure but not the ideas of art or the intellectual capital. Countless brilliant poets and their poems were destroyed, but the film made no mention of their fate…

A Poem Beginning With a Line by Pindar

by Robert Duncan

[…]

      On the hill before the wind came
the grass moved toward the one sea,
      blade after blade dancing in waves.

[…]

      the information flows
         that is yearning. A line of Pindar
      moves from the area of my lamp
         toward morning.

      In the dawn that is nowhere
         I have seen the willful children

      clockwise and counter-clockwise turning.

Duncan has numerous interesting comments on political and historical themes in his poetry, but I especially liked these bits most relevant to information security.

Brandy

Reflections on identity, as recorded by Looking Glass

There’s a port on a western bay
And it serves a hundred ships a day
Lonely sailors pass the time away
And talk about their homes

And there’s a girl, in this harbor town
And she works, laying whiskey down
They say “Brandy, fetch another round”
She serves them whiskey and wine

The sailors say “Brandy, you’re a fine girl
What a good wife you would be
Yeah your eyes could steal a sailor
From the sea.”

Brandy, wears a braided chain
Made of finest silver from the north of Spain
A locket, that bears the name
Of a man that Brandy loved

He came, on a summer’s day
Bringing gifts, from far away
But he made it clear, he couldn’t stay
No harbor was his home

The sailors said “Brandy, you’re a fine girl
What a good wife you would be
But my life, my lover, my lady
Is the sea.”

Yeah Brandy used to watch his eyes when he told his sailor’s story
She could feel the ocean fall and rise, she saw it’s raging glory
But he had always told the truth, Lord he was an honest man
And Brandy does her best to understand

At night, when the bars close down
Brandy walks through a silent town
And loves a man, who’s not around
She still can hear him say, she hears him say

“Brandy, you’re a fine girl
What a good wife you would be
But my life, my lover, my lady
Is the sea”

Is Brandy married, or not?