Oooo!

On a positive note, I FINALLY recorded the vocals for most of the tracks.  Now back to messing with loops and F/X to bring them alive.

Album

OK this is getting ridiculous!  My original plan was to record my poetry and set it to music.  But I forgot how obsessed I can get over new things.

I’ve tried every audio program out there, and Oooo!  Look at all the cool FX I can do!  And disovering loops and sounds and vocals, and WOW there’s so much I can add.  I’ve spent days listening to loops, saving my favorites.   10 gigs of them!    And I want to rewrite some poems as songs so I’m taking vocal lessons.  And I need someone to compose some music, and AHHH! so many ideas swirling in my head I can’t concentrate on one thing!

End result?  Nothing recorded yet.

Oy Vey

Broken

This one was written in 10 minutes flat the other night, just poured out of me all at once.

Tendrils of grief
worm their way out of me,
like shoots of a plant
slowly cracking their way
through the stone exterior
my mind has so carefully
constructed around me.

Even stone gets worn down by time.

Such a tangled mess of roots
coiled around my heart,
I no longer know for what I grieve.
Only that I am slowly breaking open,
the sting of tears at the back of my eyes
my only constant companion.

No!

I must be strong.
I must not falter.
I must maintain the faces
that I let show.

No one is allowed to see
the broken pieces
that I bind tightly within myself,
not even me.

Even stone gets worn down by time.

The tendrils rising up my throat till I want to gag.
Bursting out of my eyes till I wish I couldn’t see.
Squeezing around my stomach, a constant ache,
seeping out of every pore till I am covered
in the slick black oil of grief, disappointment, and fear

I am gasping for breath,
I do not know how to release
this sickness in me
that I have left to fester.

Because I had to be the strong one.
I’ve never been allowed
to set down the load lashed to my back.
Never been able to rest my head
against another’s shoulder
in peaceful rest.
In the knowledge I was safe and loved
and didn’t need my stone exterior.

Even stone gets worn down by time

I don’t know how.
I don’t know how to cry.
I don’t know how.

Someone please help me,
show me how to remove these roots
without shattering myself into a million pieces,
the puzzle will never quite fit back together.
Someone please show me.

Even stone gets worn down by time

Broken

This poem was written in 1991. Going to be rewritten into a song for the album

Lost

I’ve often wondered about the demons
coming in the pale skirts of midnight
I never really paid attention
though I knew they were coming
and it made me sick
to see myself broken down
I couldn’t get a grip
on my dour self
as I slipped into my state of disbelief

Something is broken and I can’t recover

Don’t even think for a second
don’t you put your filthy guilt on me
don’t you put your filthy hands on me
don’t say you ever believed in me
when you did nothing but lead me
into a forest of darkness
with no thought, regardless of my heart
Relentless

Something is broken and I can’t recover

I saw the waves were crashing
my arms were bleeding
my eyes deceived me
my eyes will bleed
to trust is to sleep
to trust is to deceive

Something is broken and I can’t recover

I promised myself never to shed a tear
for you and all that were alike
so I turn away, and I never look back

Something is broken and I can’t recover

So I saved myself from fucking misery
I’m failing to function because of temptation
don’t talk to me about your love

Something is broken and I can’t recover

Singing

Karley came over yesterday and we realized the reason we met was for singing.  She’s a trained vocalist, and I’ve got raw talent I’m refining.  But oh my god did we ever have a blast.  We recorded ourselves doing a bunch of songs and just had this HILARIOUS commentary throughout.  I haven’t laughed that hard in years.  I threatened to upload them to YouTube but she said she’d kick my ass if I did LOL.  We seriously need our own radio show.  One recording we laid down started with me having a hysterical giggle fit and mumbling about grandmothers in underwear and dead kittens trying to calm down, then we sang Landslide.  I just kept recording and the second track is Karley talking to her friend Meagan on the phone, then we put her on speaker and up to the microphone. Hilarity ensued, and because of the real microphone and speakerphone it all the tracks echo and are mishmashed.  Have to hear it to understand I guess

So down to business.  I’ve got about 30 poems I’m considering for the recording, need to cut it down to….10?  I want to rework a lot of them too.  And everyone keeps asking me to sing on it, so should I adapt a poem into a song or come up with something completely new?  Hmmmm.

The Lovers

She is about to come.  This time,
they are sitting up, joined below the belly,
feet cupped like hands praying
at the base of each others spines.
And when something lifts within her
toward a light she’s sure, once again
she can’t bear, she opens her eyes
and sees his face is turned away
one arm behind him, hand splayed
palm down on the mattress, to brace himself
so he can lever his hips, touch
with the bright tip the innermost spot.
And she finds she can’t bear it -
not his beautiful neck, stretched and corded,
not his hair fallen to one side like beach grass,
not the thin curve of his ear, washed thin
with daylight, deep pink of the inner body -
What she can’t bear is that she can’t see his face,
not that she thinks this exactly – she is rocking
and breathing – it’s more her body’s thought,
opening, as it is, into its own sheet truth.
So that when her hand lifts of her own volition
and slaps him, twice on the chest,
on that pad of muscled flesh just above the nipple,
slaps him twice, fast, like a nursing child
trying to get a mother’s attention,
she’s startled by the sound,
though when he turns his face to hers -
which is what her body wants, his eyes
pulled open, as if she had bitten -
she does reach out and bite him, on the shoulder
not hard, but with the power infants have
over those who have borne them, tied as they are
to the body, and so, tied to the pleasure,
the exquisite pain of this world.
And when she lifts her face he sees
where she’s gone, knows she can’t speak
is traveling toward something essential,
toward the core of her need, so he simply
watches, steadily, with an animal calm
as she arches and screams, watches the face that,
if she could see it, she would never let him see it

To Love the Night

To Love The Night

Night’s cool hands shall brush your face
Close you in a dark embrace;
Drowning deep in dark desires;
Your soul lit by passion’s fires
Lay you down on a midnight bower,
You’ll feel the reach of darkness’ power,
Soaring fast on passions storm,
From light to dark you are reborn.

I am a creature of the night,
Of raven’s wings, of frozen flight;
To love me is to forsake the light

Mrown

I want to be beneath you…

feeling your warm hands caress my body

gently touching and stroking

your face close to mine

your hot sweet breath washing over me

your soft lips touching mine

running my hands down your back

feeling your skin move and shiver under my touch

feeling you deep inside me…

moving gently, touching my soul

gazing into your eyes and losing myself there…

becoming one

Darkness Closes In

Disclaimer: Here’s a barrage of some of my darkest poetry.  It isn’t indicative of my current state, just past stuff I want to purge.

Voiceless screams,
silent eyes,
quiet lips,
the cruelest lies.
And darkness closes in

Senseless violence,
blood dark red;
empty pain.
Reason is dead.
And darkness closes in

No Tears For You

Disclaimer: Here’s a barrage of some of my darkest poetry.  It isn’t indicative of my current state, just past stuff I want to purge.

Lost in time, I count the words I said
when I thought they went unheard.
All of those harsh thoughts, so unkind
because I wanted you…

And now I sit here, a bloody mess.
Tears fly home.
A circle of angels deep in war;
because I wanted you…