# Over the moor, lay me down in a shallow grave



## Rozanne (Feb 24, 2006)

_Over the moor, take me to the moor
Dig a shallow grave
And I'll lay me down_

Somewhere to lay, unassuming and dead
Without a shade of mortal doubt
Or a head full of worries
No pain to create a mount
Neither sorrow or happiness
Just plain, down-right uselessness
Miserly energy, lost in forgetfulness
Of a permanent kind.

I love the moor
So take me to the moor
Dig a shallow grave and fill it with daisies
So that I am remembered by the soil bugs
Forgotten by everyone who knew me
Just fixed in a silent prayer
At one with the dirt
That formally taunted me
At one with my silence and death
Not counting or splitting hairs
Just kindly
Just so
Just wasted without sorrow.


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## Guest (Mar 20, 2007)




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## Rozanne (Feb 24, 2006)

My GSCE French leads me to think you said:

"I think I understand what you say, but it is....?"

Shall go and look it up on the internet now. 

_OH how sad_

It was meant to be nice one 

(Wailing and sobbing)....I'm _sorry_, I'm sorry, (head in folded arms) I promise I won't do it again. I'm *sorry* Mister Gr-he-he-he-eg. (spluttering and coughing down the tears).


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## Cam (Dec 13, 2006)




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## Rozanne (Feb 24, 2006)

I will explain it later.


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## Rozanne (Feb 24, 2006)

I just wanted to say that the poem was inspired by the song "Suffer Little Children" by The Smiths.

In spite of its mellow, enjoyable sound, the song is actually about the Moor's murders which were assisted by a woman called Myra Hindley. I believe that happened in the 60s...though I am not sure.

It's the theme of the destructive mother, I guess.

Need to read back to see how I dealt with this.


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## Cam (Dec 13, 2006)




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## Guest (Mar 21, 2007)

> (Wailing and sobbing)....I'm sorry, I'm sorry, (head in folded arms) I promise I won't do it again. I'm sorry Mister Gr-he-he-he-eg. (spluttering and coughing down the tears).


LOL









Greg


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## Rozanne (Feb 24, 2006)

It probably makes more sense if I explain the poem by this:

I am 23 and becoming an adult. Changes in my appearance remind me constantly that I am very definately the product of my lineage, and the hardest thing of all is fully embodying the "form" of my mother. She always represented death to me, so this period of my life has been challenging in a way.

In the poem, I am talking to a mate, but I am also saying "it's time to be one with the mother", as in, in our sexual act I will be reinstated as the image of the mother. Admittedly, the poem is tentative in this respect. I am happy to ask a partner to help me, but I am not over being a child yet "fill it with daisies..bugs etc".


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## Cam (Dec 13, 2006)




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## Rozanne (Feb 24, 2006)

Yes, and that submission is painful and scary but ultimately beautiful. It is the butterfly coming out of its crystallis.

Funny you should mention the power/significance of substances in this. My mum makes me think of four things: cigarettes, tea, medication and Classic FM!

I mean that literally sums her up as a person!

Cigarettes were the ultimate statement of "I am turning into my mum" for me.


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## Cam (Dec 13, 2006)




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## Rozanne (Feb 24, 2006)

Chameleon said:


> thank you Rozanne
> Cam


Thankyou for appreciating it. 






And now on the theme of beauty in death...or somehow surpassing it and igniting the flame of personal victory, here are some beautiful lyrics:

There used to be a greying tower alone on the sea.
You became the light on the dark side of me.
Love remained a drug that's the high and not the pill.

But did you know,
That when it snows,
My eyes become large and,
The light that you shine can be seen.

Baby,
I might compare you to a kiss from a rose on the grave.
Ooh,
The more I get of you
Stranger it feels, yeah.
And now that your rose is in bloom,
A light hits the gloom on the grave.

There is so much a man can tell you,
So much he can say.

You remain,
My power, my pleasure, my pain.
Baby, to me you're like a growing addiction that I can't deny
Won't you tell me is that healthy, baby?

But did you know,
That when it snows,
My eyes become large and the light that you shine can be seen.

Baby,
I might compare you to a kiss from a rose on the grave.
Ooh, the more I get of you
stranger it feels, yeah.

Now that your rose is in bloom.
A light hits the gloom on the grave,

I've been kissed by a rose on the grave,
I've been kissed by a rose
...And if I should fall, at all
I've been kissed by a rose

There is so much a man can tell you,
So much he can say.

You remain
My power, my pleasure, my pain.

To me you're like a growing addiction that I can't deny
Won't you tell me is that healthy, baby.

But did you know,
That when it snows,
My eyes become large and,
the light that you shine can be seen.

Baby,
I might compare you to a kiss from a rose on the grave,
Ooh, the more I get of you
Stranger it feels, yeah

Now that your rose is in bloom,
A light hits the gloom on the grave.

Yes I compare you to a kiss from a rose on the grave.
Ooh, the more I get of you
stranger it feels, yeah.

Now that your rose is in bloom.
A light hits the gloom on the grave,

Now that your rose is in bloom.
A light hits the gloom on the grave


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## Cam (Dec 13, 2006)




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## Rozanne (Feb 24, 2006)

I'm crying because I love this song so much.

(This night has opened my eyes - The Smiths)

In the river the colour of lead
Immerse the babies head
Wrap her up in the News of The World...
Dump her on a doorstep, girl

This night has opened my eyes 
And I will never sleep again
You kicked and cried like a bullied child
_A grown man of 25_
Oh he said he'd cure you're ills
But he didn't and he never will

Oooh, save your life
Because you've only got one

The dream has gone but the baby is real
Oh you did a good thing
She could have been a poet or could have been a fool
Oh you did a bad thing

And I'm not happy and I'm not sad

A (word) child on a swing
Reminds you of your own again
She took away your troubles
Oh but then again
She left pain

Oh please save your life
Because you've only got one

The dream has gone but the baby is real
Oh you did a good thing
She could have been a poet or could have been a fool
Oh you did a bad thing

And I'm not happy and I'm not sad.

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I wish I could type out the sound of the guitar it is so amazing. 

It is just so beautiful. I've often laughed at the line "she could have been a poet or a fool".

Hope you are well Cam.


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## Rozanne (Feb 24, 2006)

Sorry, but I just had to post these ones as well:

Well I wonder - The Smiths

Well I wonder
Do you hear me when you sleep ? 
I hoarsely cry
Oh ...

Well I wonder
Do you see me when we pass ? 
I half die ...
Oh ...

Please keep me in mind
Please keep me in mind

Gasping - but somehow still alive
This is the fierce last stand of all I am

Gasping - dying - but somehow still alive
This is the final stand of all I am

Please keep me in mind

Well I wonder
Well I wonder
Please keep me in mind
Keep me in mind
Keep me in mind


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## Cam (Dec 13, 2006)

Yeah, they are both really good songs, I had a listen on youtube.

BB


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## HalfAPerson (Aug 22, 2006)

Azure said:


> A (word) child on a swing


A _shoeless_ child on swing


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## Rozanne (Feb 24, 2006)

Thanks...

By the way I hope you are a good back scrubber 

(Ref. Smiths song Half A Person).


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## HalfAPerson (Aug 22, 2006)

Indeed!  I'm glad you caught the reference.


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## Rozanne (Feb 24, 2006)

"Last night I dreamt that somebody loved me"

That's a nice song too, only just discovered it on my big Smiths CD...hehe. I don't know why I like this music so much but it just seems to hit the resonant frequency of my soul or something.


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