1. |
Imbolc
06:01
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These eyes have been opened
though they try to forget
to leave the songs the mountains kept.
I know it’s been a long time,
but can you remember
the second sight,
the green tongue, the current,
the flight, or the fight?
Sleepless nights like these;
you know you’re on my mind,
but the house is nothing:
it’s what was once inside.
All we loved is underground,
buried beneath the falling leaves
and dying things.
I know it grows cold under a moon so pale:
a love that’s grown this stale.
Would you break the ice?
Would you melt the snow
with your summer glow
for the one who knows,
for one who knows.
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2. |
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We are calling you to come back home-
to wake, to say the storm is over.
We’ll bring you comforts from the deep world-
A life too short to live it sober.
Or have you been in Oz too long,
accustomed to the colors?
When you’re living only to consume all,
why would you choose a world of grey?
In a moment, you’re just like the rest-
accepting numbers on a wire.
What is this weakness?
Do you speak less
when others truly need your fire?
Submerge yourself again,
beneath the current.
You’ll need a warriors heart
to brave the dark.
Or have you been in Oz too long,
accustomed to the colors?
When you’re living only to consume all,
why would you choose a world of grey?
Sunshine, sunshine,
when did you get so proud?
Too proud to come home
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3. |
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!
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4. |
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She is curls and jasmine tea.
She is warmer with no heat.
Soaks up rain on pumping knees.
She is naked in the sea.
Carina!
Up the hill, down mountainside;
always leaves before sunrise.
Turn our heads to meet black sands,
in the temple empty handed.
Carina!
Two of the west and one of ice-swimming;
three strangers adrift in the east.
Bento in our baskets, we write wishes on the beach.
There’s earth under finger and fire in our feet.
There’s air in the lullabies that sing away the sleep.
We are hands pressed:
Coming, going.
The sakura trees awaiting leaves are we.
Carina!
Tai-yo to, Dai-ichi to
Umi no megumini
Kanshashite
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5. |
Eris Moon
07:34
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The moon ascending like
a symbol of Eris
against a black velvet sky.
Your little boy smile,
defying known truths.
Twice now, twice now
under an Eris moon.
That moon, she gets in my eyes-
A wanton reflection;
shows me my favorite little lies,
little lies I beg to be true
to play the game with you,
Twice now, twice now.
Twice now, twice
under an Eris Moon.
Perhaps you are worthy of every ode I’ll ever write,
plus one, though you may not be my Adam.
Still, I might as well be Eve
A serpent in each ear with independent whisperings.
What might Eve have done without a lover to come home to? Grasped the fruit but never clutched,
it’s silky surface touched, however indecisively,
light as a father on the palm:
the one that never holds on, forever wishing.
Who’s to say that Eve will vanish faster
than she who cannot bear to touch,
holographic and eternal Ephemera, Ephemera!
Like Lilith, roaming the garden alone, by self atoned.
I wanna love again and be loved,
I’m just to high to fake it, too tired to take it, or
too shy to make it real.
I wanna love again and be loved
I’m just too high to fake it- too tired to make it real.
The moon ascending like a symbol of Eris
Against a black, velvet sky.
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6. |
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Wonder to worry to not worth the hassle.
Your shoes shine like freshly pressed
pennies to match a copper smile.
Weak-jawed and strong armed and falling too fast to trust;
I must find a new water source and see clear to the floor
of your tightly wound stories, seemed barely bit to varnish your brittle self portrait, chipping away in a green dust.
You pick flowers for me from in between teeth:
tokens of affection, half-chewed.
I know better than to trust such trinkets,
quickly hewn in a hungry mouth
(Haven’t I seen this before?)
You, walking away, in the glass.
Your coming was foretold in a vessel of black grounds.
Man with two shadows, I have, twice now, followed you and eaten from your hand sweet morsels of barely little substance, just enough to keep me hungry.
When she told, she told me not to go with you again…
but you leave your trail so easy and oh so obvious.
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7. |
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Wet footprints in a windless desert,
Veins of water in a dried up sea.
Endlessly.
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8. |
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Waiting, waiting, waiting...
Waiting on Joaquim.
Waiting on Joaquim to make a scene,
a prefect storm to change, to rearrange
me-start again, Joaquim.
Waiting...waiting on a change.
Wasting my life away,
waiting on a hurricane.
When's it gonna come down? The rain-
wash away, make it clean, Joaquim.
Well, we build our own prison,
line by line,
taking hostage every moment,
reinforcing the design,
and we won't change or re-arrange our fate 'cause we all want the end to take place...Oh how I want you to disagree with me.
Oh, please disagree.
We're stuck in the plains,
waiting on a hurricane.
(I gave you so many chances to change your tune)
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9. |
chesed
06:03
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Push, push me, push me to
push me to the edge, I say push me.
Push me till my insides scramble
to eke out as atman, to catch
into a napkin, to crumble ’til dry.
Push, push me, push me to,
push me to the edge, I say push me.
This turbulence exalts a bland stereotype,
so pure, so white,
since I knocked off the Burgundy ties
with the rest of the mud mask
to show you no wrinkles.
Say you shoulda, say you shoulda, say shoulda died
Shoulda died young if you didn’t want no age to mark you.
Instead you make, make another, make another world
make another world do it for you;
An infinite third world, an army, invisible
(Divisible ,infiinite, angel blood),
their palms a perfect, porcelain type of clean.
Push me ’til I can’t be sweet
and I will drip my bitter drops
on your tongue, tasteless and true-
see through your veneers, alligator tears,
mirage of love.
Casanova, trickster, my love is bigger
Let me hang on to it ’til it’s grown
large enough to swallow you whole.
Go ahead and push, push me
push me to, push me to the edge.
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10. |
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Gone is the time when I would bend to your designs;
I’ve got my own road to search out.
Life is too short to sit so still, the docile sort:
I’ve got me own fire to feed.
This kind of love would never aid our climb above
this ancient fog that we’ve been steeped in.
This is goodbye to getting lost inside your eyes;
we’ve got our own sights to see.
We could live for others too,
we just could never get trapped back in the two by twos.
We could live for others too,
we just could never get trapped back in the you and only,
you and only you’s.
I must get lost, I must get lost
I must get lost inside,
I must get lost inside my mind.
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11. |
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You are the life force,
you project the future flow
with every movement of your soul.
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12. |
inter.cision
02:04
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My world is changing,
heating up, and though this may not be quite new,
(True, this Gaia has discarded species
just as quick as I, as you, discard clothing,
plastic wrappers, Straws and napkins,
slightly less than fresh produce,
imperfect lovers, worn out shoes.
As quick as nations change hands or
populations change mythology-
this Gaia has many faces in her rear view)
this time, it feels different.
This time it seems this world may shed
her lush green blanket of rainforest
and purge herself of seed and sea;
this time it feels like even the oxygen is leaving.
I fear, this time, we may not emerge breathing,
flushed and new but hushed and blue,
the still-born child of nature’s womb
in which out time is short...
but we’re still too absorbed
in wrapping ‘round our necks
the umbilical noose of our evolution
that we can’t cut loose
‘cause we keep failing to choose life.
And you say, “maybe we survive”
well, maybe we do,
but if we do survive these changes,
what kind of future will we view?
Will the blue in green become our new mythology and every earth-born thing be nothing but a waking dream?
Is it too late to speak peace into being?
Is it too late to believe?
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13. |
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I’ve never seen a rainbow without first seeing rain
and for a while, that was reason enough to abstain from loving you,
but there are moments when I
wish I could melt with you,
linger like plumes of smoke from
lover’s cigarettes, hanging just outside the door;
golden light, glimmering,
moving faintly, softly,
Blend the boundary line
with time and sweet caress.
It’s time, way past time.
It’s time to say it if you don’t want me to go.
I’ve been wandering for some time,
too flippant to truly make my mind up
on how to move with such a one as you
who changes faster than the seasons do.
No clues, no fuze, no leads to follow,
you set me a whirl but leave the center of me hollow.
I could stay but my time is borrowed;
too old to pine for avoidable sorrows.
All the time we wasted-
don’t regret it or replace it.
Still it’s foolish to neglect the signs.
It’s time, way past time.
It’s time to say it if you don’t want me to go.
I swear in time you’ll find it’s fine to have me on your mind.
I swear in time you’ll find you wish I’d gone and made you mine.
You’ve got to understand (step by step, hand over hand),
I’ve gotta chase my horizons with or without a man.
It’s time, way past time.
It’s time to say it if you don’t want me to go.
To go
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