1. |
degree
00:47
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distance is only a degree of inconvenience
shadows of water in the trees
youre half asleep
only road signs and ghosts to remind you
with rails to guide you home
but not to take you there
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2. |
drum-styx
00:52
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the music in the air has stopped beating
reduced to a rattling frame
so ill fill it up with a melody of me
make a skeleton band of my bones
beat the drums of my soiled skin
and ill play the strings of Fates
-when the song is one, ill roll my stones
and hum this on the way back up again
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3. |
dew
01:52
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its hard sometimes to get across the things that im experiencing,
telling a feeling through kaleidoscope eyes:
horse blinders out of the womb;
a new day born from the old,
a morning tinged with gold,
and light;
it filters
thoughts from perceptions from living.
waking and reveling in the dawn,
fresh ways to see the world again.
these ideas still tinged with dew,
they breathe and multiply
like sinews and streams i watch them
pulse and shiver at my minds hands
between my fingertips they flow-
the blood of the universe-
i can pull and bend and strum these veins
and play the song of strings and theories.
these stories interwoven are the fabric of our lives.
ill adorn myself in the threads of time
and patiently wait on my throne the horizon
for the setting sun to gently cast a crown of colors upon my head;
my reign will pass with the day.
my reign will pass with the day.
my reign will pass the day.
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4. |
density.
03:01
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see,
lately ive turned to drinking
to drown out the thought of you
waters more dense than beer
though not as dense as your ego
but i cant swim, so i guess im going under
im good at who i am
but im not great at what i do
i jot down lines of poetry
in the ink of sanity
when im at a loss for
what else to make of you
because i cant get you out of my head
(i need one more drink, pour me another drink, pour me another fucking drink)
i still cant get you out of my head
(i need one more)
the sword after all might be mightier than the pen
im running out of ink but all that ive been needing
(is one more drink, i need one more drink, pour me another drink)
is to cut you out and cut you off, and never let you wade your way into my heart again
oh, pour me another one, pour me another one, pour me another one, pour me one more
(i still cant get you out of my head)
six inches of water will sweep me off my feet
the way you used to
but a six pack of beer does it better
(pour me one more, pour me another drink, pour me another drink, pour me one more)
it's the only thing keeping me afloat
when i cant keep myself together
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Christy Rosario Lyndon, Vermont
when i die cut off my hands and burn them; anything good ive ever made ive done with those two parts of this weak, imperfect
body.
mix their ashes with the earth so i can still use them to make life after my own-
and i will create works of art in the leaves of trees, in blooms of flowers,
and in the breeze that will carry them away,
to make those verdant havens dance and sway
with me
after my last
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