Music Literature Film Index About

Mona Bone Jakon, Cat Stevens

A&M Records, July, 1970

Track Listing: 1. Lady d’Arbanville, 2. Maybe You’re Right, 3. Pop Star, 4. I Think I See the Light, 5. Trouble, 6. Mona Bone Jakon, 7. I Wish, I Wish, 8. Katmandu, 9. Time, 10. Fill My Eyes, 11. Lilywhite

“I raise my hand and touch the wheel of change
Taking time to check the dial
And the Lilywhite
I never knew her name
But she’ll be passing my way sometime again
She’ll be passing my way sometime again”


Time passes. Things change. Worlds grow old. The sun has a thousand moons and each one spins silently across a chosen path. Earth is a bright blue ball. The universe is black. Stars white. The blue ball turns once each day (towards the sun), circles once a year (around the sun), lobs a moon (dead silver sun). Night. Day. Star. Moon. They all hug each other. They all gather, like lost children, like wounded forest things trembling hopelessly in the dark. There’s nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide. The only god is physics. Pull. Push. Tug. Bang! Ready to smash it all apart, suck it all together in an astrosecond.

“I wish I knew, I wish I knew
What makes me, and what makes you”

-fromI Wish, I Wish

The real poet. The true poet. Is the one who gets to the bottom of things. Figures it all out. Cuts to the quick. Some do it with a book, a pen, a guitar. Others lie in piss in the gutter and just look up at the sky. Clouds a creamy bulb stream of white. Some pop pills the color of windowpanes. Some are buddhists. Rapists. Beatniks. Hepcats. Yogi and Magi. Lambs of god who take away the sins of the world. Satanists and botanists. Darwin. Dharma. Delta Dawn. The road is filled with them. The seekers. The sinners. Watchers and waiters. They stuff the streets. Spill out into the fields. They put up stone temples and block alters. Bonfires and sacrifices. Sacramental superstars. Minstrels and troubadours. Poets and dreamers. Spiritualists and preachers. More than you can shake a stick out. A snake at. Part the water. Ride the wave. They’re all looking for something. God in a flower. Acid rain. Purple rainbow. In the end you don’t know what the fuck. But damn what a journey!

“I think I see the light—coming through me
Coming to me—giving me a second sight
So shine, shine, shine
Shine, shine shine”

-fromI Think I See the Light

Main thing is you search. Main thing is to dream. Sing from the trashcan. Write. Observe. Ask questions. Because the only one who can ever answer them is you. Do it now. Do it your way. Everybody loves you when your hip and cool but change your name and grow old and you’re dead, man. Yusuf. Get used to it. The wanderer. The seeker. New religion. New order. Roll over. It’s a big blue ball and nothing more. Nothing. You want to know what it means? What it’s all about? Look into the ball. See yourself.

“I’ve seen your eyes, and I can see death’s disguise
Hanging on me
Hanging on me
I’m beat, I’m torn, shattered and tossed
I’m worn
Too shocking to see … too shocking to see”


In the end the ball is too hard. You’re forgotten. Dismissed. Reviled because of what you believe in. Doesn’t matter that you’re just trying to find your own way. Nothing’s changed. It’s still about the search. The spirit. The music. You’re still the same person hanging in orbit, held together (just barely) by some sick and lonely luscious gravity. It’s in your bones. In your pathetic sad-searching body mass. It’s silver and gold and eclipsed by a thousand moons. Millions of bodies. See how they cling together? If you listen closely you might hear them all. Hear them move. The music of the spheres. What a wonderful sound. What a wonderful, wonderful sound they make.

“There’s an empty space inside me now
A wasteland deep beneath the snow
So cold nothing’ll grow
I’m just a coaster but my wheels won’t go
My legs are weak my heals are low
I’m just a coaster but my wheels won’t roll
Can’t make no headway on this road—what road?”

-fromFill My Eyes