Friday poetry blogging...sort of

Last night I was listening to what we commonly know as The White Album.

Iraq, Iran, the Imperial Presidency, the trampling of women's rights up one side of this planet and down the other, Katrina, Darfur, roof collapses, abducted children, my grandmother is dead. George is, too.

I dare you to read this and not hear the song:

While My Guitar Gently Weeps
--George Harrison

I look at you all see the love there that's sleeping
While my guitar gently weeps
I look at the floor and I see it need sweeping
Still my guitar gently weeps

I don't know why nobody told you
how to unfold your love
I don't know how someone controlled you
they bought and sold you

I look at the world and I notice it's turning
While my guitar gently weeps
With every mistake we must surely be learning
Still my guitar gently weeps

I don't know how you were diverted
you were perverted too
I don't know how you were inverted
no one alerted you

I look at you all see the love there that's sleeping
While my guitar gently weeps
I look at you all
Still my guitar gently weeps