SYLVIA PLATH IS MY FUCKING RELIGION

I'm thinking of naming my band "Plath"

The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock (opening stanzas) - T.S. Eliot

LET us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherized upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question….
Oh, do not ask, “What is it?”
Let us go and make our visit.

In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes,
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes
Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,
Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,
Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,
Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,
And seeing that it was a soft October night,
Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.

That's a classic

Yeah, it's one of my favourites.

Daddy

BY SYLVIA PLATH

You do not do, you do not do
Any more, black shoe
In which I have lived like a foot
For thirty years, poor and white,
Barely daring to breathe or Achoo.

Daddy, I have had to kill you.
You died before I had time——
Marble-heavy, a bag full of God,
Ghastly statue with one gray toe
Big as a Frisco seal

And a head in the freakish Atlantic
Where it pours bean green over blue
In the waters off beautiful Nauset.
I used to pray to recover you.
Ach, du.

In the German tongue, in the Polish town
Scraped flat by the roller
Of wars, wars, wars.
But the name of the town is common.
My Polack friend

Says there are a dozen or two.
So I never could tell where you
Put your foot, your root,
I never could talk to you.
The tongue stuck in my jaw.

It stuck in a barb wire snare.
Ich, ich, ich, ich,
I could hardly speak.
I thought every German was you.
And the language obscene

An engine, an engine
Chuffing me off like a Jew.
A Jew to Dachau, Auschwitz, Belsen.
I began to talk like a Jew.
I think I may well be a Jew.

The snows of the Tyrol, the clear beer of Vienna
Are not very pure or true.
With my gipsy ancestress and my weird luck
And my Taroc pack and my Taroc pack
I may be a bit of a Jew.

I have always been scared of you,
With your Luftwaffe, your gobbledygoo.
And your neat mustache
And your Aryan eye, bright blue.
Panzer-man, panzer-man, O You——

Not God but a swastika
So black no sky could squeak through.
Every woman adores a Fascist,
The boot in the face, the brute
Brute heart of a brute like you.

You stand at the blackboard, daddy,
In the picture I have of you,
A cleft in your chin instead of your foot
But no less a devil for that, no not
Any less the black man who

Bit my pretty red heart in two.
I was ten when they buried you.
At twenty I tried to die
And get back, back, back to you.
I thought even the bones would do.

But they pulled me out of the sack,
And they stuck me together with glue.
And then I knew what to do.
I made a model of you,
A man in black with a Meinkampf look

And a love of the rack and the screw.
And I said I do, I do.
So daddy, I’m finally through.
The black telephone’s off at the root,
The voices just can’t worm through.

If I’ve killed one man, I’ve killed two——
The vampire who said he was you
And drank my blood for a year,
Seven years, if you want to know.
Daddy, you can lie back now.

There’s a stake in your fat black heart
And the villagers never liked you.
They are dancing and stamping on you.
They always knew it was you.
Daddy, daddy, you bastard, I’m through.

you'd regret it down the line. For one its a cliche to love plath during a certain part of life of a certain kind of people.

lol. "Down the line"

As if there's any future for a band formed by 20 year olds with little to no talent

well i mean it could be in 6 months. Or just thinking back about that band you used to have and how you cant believe you called it plath

Also.. THATS EXACTLY THE KIND OF THINKING THAT WILL GET YOU NOWHERE

I feel like "Goat Rainbow" and "Monkey Piss" are more cliche than anything. Like "Haha the band has a dumb name because irony and stuff bro", that's become the biggest cliche in Rock. Someone needs to come along that takes themselves TOO seriously ala Corgan or Morrissey or Jim Morrison

But I guess Corgan named all his stuff jokingly so idk. But he takes himself super duper seriously

Like my favorite punk band is the obvious Dead Kennedys and they didn't do the whole joke name thing like most punk bands. Dead Kennedys is a name with legit meaning and Biafra will tell you that meaning if you ask him.

I kiinda agree up to the part where someone has to take themselves too seriously. But yeah joke band names...well....they fit certain bands though. If you band IS actually kind of a joke, ok. But if you actually try to write about somewhat serious or earnest things then that's a disservice to the band

to be fair though Smashing Pumpkins sounds like a band that could be anything...it could totally have been a joke band name...

I always thought Smashing Pumpkins which according to Corgan is used in the sense of meaning "good people" was a pretty good name for a band putting an American spin on British music

I always wondered if the internet had existed during like Moz's youth if you'd see the same sort of embarrassing self pity posts which we'd all have record of. Like he would have posted on a New York Dolls forum since that was his favorite band

Yes. He wrote letters to mags all the time. Clearly hed have been all over the internet.

Could you imagine one of your fellow boarders suddenly becoming the biggest thing in music

No because most of us are like 30 and over. It's too late.

Also nobody ever gets to be the biggest thing in music anymore.

That's what I meant. It couldn't happen now, but imagine there's this whiny board member from Manchester named NY_DOLLS

agree

There's a little french canadian poem i'd like to share with you all and i'll give you a translation after. It goes like so

y'a tu d'la bière icitte?
y'a tu d'la bière icitte?
y'a tu d'la bière icitte?
si y'a pas d'bière icitte
moé j'sacre mon camp d'icitte


Which translates to

Is there beer in here?
Is there beer in here?
Is there beer in here?
If there's no beer in here
I'm getting the fuck outta here


I thought you might enjoy it. And i think you should try it at the next open mic you come across.

That movie has like 2 hours of them falling all over the place if I remember correctly