5 Dark Knights

19 Nov
0

 

 

5 bright stars that I’ve never seen before
Step by step walking on the checkerboard
You know, some things get easier with time
Blood flows much easier when I know the blood is mine.

5 dark knights sleeping underneath the skies
Toss and turn, thinking of the way you died
I can’t describe what is left of me more delicate than a lace
Hold me in your hand then let me slip into the wind and watch

Me fly.
Sometimes the sky is filled with eyes.

5 small boys I saw them inside my dream
Step by step but the checkerboard was green
You know, they never cried they were a bubble in the air
Flying in the wind they never knew that you were there

All of the time.
They were oblivious to the feeling of your eyes.

Step by step walking to the rabbit hole
And there I will forget, fall into a black so fine
That you were there with me when every wind

Was filled with time.
We were oblivious to the feeling of their eyes.

 

Download MP3: Five Dark Knights

The Great Grains

22 Oct
0

I am starting to wonder if some of the weird problems creeping up in society- such as:

1. people searching high and low for things to be outraged about
2. people hating others for holding different political beliefs
3. people wanting to label others as bigots on the thinnest of evidence
4. people treating victimhood as heroism

could be related to having turned our back on the grains that have guided us throughout history and taught us how to live together in harmony and peace. Especially wheat, which shortly before all these problems began became public enemy #1 for no apparent reason. Suddenly every health problem could potentially be resolved by removing wheat (if not all grains) from your diet. Suddenly, a grain free diet took on a saintly aura, despite the added expense and violence of living off only vegetables and meat.

I don’t know much about the history of wheat, but I do feel that the history of grains is the history of humanity, and without their help, we would not have become human as we now understand it. I think that to dishonor grains is to disconnect from our human self.

As I see it, we have three parts- the human, the angelic, and the beastly*. They are like stair steps, with the human resting upon the beast, and the angelic resting upon the human. If we detach from our human self, we are left with nothing but the beast, since without the human foundation, the angelic in us cannot exist.

I believe it was the Great Grains of the world who taught us how to construct the human aspect of our psyche so we could rise up out of our animal nature and reach towards the heavens. It was grains that gave us the ideas, knowledge, and values that were needed to build and organize civilizations.

Because- in addition to being mostly benevolent- grains are also practical beings, who know how to balance virtue with necessity, to let us recognize ideals and move towards them, while having the realism to accept that these ideals can never be reached. Grains know how to find the compromise, the middle ground, between God and Nature, Goodness and Power. And I believe that fleshing out this middle ground between heaven and earth is part of the reason why humans were created. Hence, humans and grains are best friends forever, and their destinies are intertwined.

I have said similar things before, and I will say them again, because the importance of Grains as both food and spiritual guides to humanity cannot be overstated! It is GRAINS that give us a balanced mind! It is GRAINS that calm our emotions! It is GRAINS that give us the capacity for brotherly love, and GRAINS that will give us the vision for how to move forward as a collective!!!!! GGGRRRAAAIIINNNSSS!!! And although you can choose to befriend any grains you prefer (perhaps befriending unusual grains could even lead to novel solutions to age old problems), let us never forget the grains that fed and guided our ancestors. Let us never dishonor them and write blasphemous books like “Wheatbelly.” These age-old friends still have many things to teach us and I am sure we will never outgrow them.

Notes:
1. I recognize that these ideas sound weird and although they do make me laugh, I am still completely serious. I believe in grains!

2. I don’t mean any disrespect to animals by referring to our lower nature as beastly, but I think the word beastly captures the essence of the blood & slime part of our self, that slithers, tricks and fights its way towards power, life, and survival.

3. Despite technically being our “lower” nature, I don’t mean to imply that our animal self is lesser than the angelic. The lower self provides the passion and vitality without which heaven would just be a flaccid and never-ending harp song. The lower self is a brave man who is not good, and heaven is a good man who is not brave. Neither has much value on their own. That is why the Middle Ground (between heaven and earth) is so important. The more this ground is developed the more places heaven and earth can touch. And this is the work that humanity and grains were meant to do together.

I feel so upset about people defacing and taking down statues. We should keep them.

It is like this- the future is gold, made of dreams. For the future, right and wrong matter, virtue matters.

But the past is black. Good and bad decay together to become the nutrients that enrich our soil. Morals have no sway here. There is just the richness and knowledge of everything that has been. Murder, pain, everything, stripped of its original meaning and turned into a rich black substance.

Removing monuments is just stripping blood and bones from our soil. It can’t make us better people. It just removes possibilities from our future by limiting the types of nutrients our soil contains. History will be re-absorbed and disappear soon enough, but we shouldn’t hasten that process.

 

 

 

Alone on a country path
to home, there is nowhere back
a loan that you must return
but you know you never will.

A field where the sun has lain
a barn with a crooked frame
a man with a golden pen
he meets you on the road.

What could you say?
You couldn’t explain
your hands just shook with guilt.
The house that absence built.

The sink of the western sun
a sigh and the day is done
a man with a golden pen
he meets you on the road.

Three men from behind the hill
ride in and surround you still
you know there is nowhere back
there’s nowhere to run.

They ride you hard
and when they leave
you can feel your spirit wilt.
The house that absence built.

A change coming from within
a man with a golden pen
you speak all the words you know
he writes down every one.

You sneer cause you must not cry
the fear of a dimming sky
ride in and the reasons why
will meet you on the road.

The trees will rise
like black men where
the golden sun in spilt
in the house that absence built.

 

This is a song about the Pine Fairy being raped by three traveling men that he meets on the road. They may or may not be human, since such things are harder to tell from the Pine Fairy’s perspective.

The reference to Black Men isn’t related to humans of African descent. Black Men are a subset of what I call “Gingerbread Fairies.” Basically humanoid beings that are larger than us, but with more simplistic forms. They come in different colors and are about 8-10 feet tall with bodies that are a cross between a human and a three dimensional gingerbread cookie (if the cookie was made of colored light.) Although their bodies have no mass or weight, they are stronger than gorillas and can easily move physical objects in this world. Sometimes the Black Men will show up to protect people from an attack, other times they will show up afterwards to help the person regain their power. They are jet black and always travel by night.

The man with the golden pen is a being similar to St. Peter. He helps you to record, review, and evaluate the choices of your life so that you can feel the appropriate remorse and finally gain wisdom.

 

Download MP3: Rape of the Pine Fairy

Pine Trees Fall

11 Aug
0

 

 

The Pine Fairy grieves the death of some Pine Trees that were like family to him.

Sparks fly from the blade in my sword
Long ago your silver heart was all I could afford.

Clouds grow so grey and extend.
Long ago it seemed to me this time would never end.

Burned by the setting sun
I stood there and I watched you fall one by one.

Angels cry they fill the sky with fire
I know there must be a flame that comes from someplace higher.
White clouds come to fill the sky with rain
Oh my eyes I saw them fall their bodies ripped away.

Sparks shine from the wine in my cup
Poison me a little I can’t hold my shoulders up.

Gold shines from the cup in my hand
The end had come already but we did not understand.

Roll clouds through my mind
Carry me forever to another time.

Angels cry they fill the sky with fire
I know there must be a flame that comes from someplace higher.
White clouds come to fill the sky with rain
Oh my eyes I saw them fall their bodies ripped away.

Fire pain in my heart in my chest
Friends of mine, freshest ones, I knew you the best.

Fire pain in my brain in my mind
We walked almost forever till we reached the end of time.

Where you fell one by one
Burning gold you sparkled in the setting sun.

Angels cry they fill the sky with fire
I know there must be a flame that comes from someplace higher.
White clouds come to fill the sky with rain
Oh my eyes I saw them fall their bodies ripped away.

 

Download MP3: Pine Trees Fall

James & I are preparing to move to a 1907 four square house in Charleston West Virginia.  There are many reasons I am excited about this.

 

  1. The house was built when Teddy Roosevelt was president. He is my favorite president since the teddy bear was named after him, and I also admire his stout personality and physique.
  2. I love Charleston. I think cities tucked between mountains with rivers running through them are the prettiest, especially when the river is crossed by blue bridges.
  3. I like the philosophy behind four square houses. In their time, they represented a rejection of showy refinement and European sensibilities in favor of something practical, hardy, and uniquely American.
  4. I am glad the numbers of my address add up to the number one. My former addresses have always added up to three.  According to numerology, living in a Number One house helps you to be more of an individual. This sounds good to me, because I have definitely become whatever the opposite of an individual is. I don’t even feel like a specific person. Just a loosely knit pile of air moving through space.

 

My obsession while living in Hurricane has been redecorating my apartment in different color schemes. It has been disturbing to notice the extent to which my patterns and interests change along with the colors, as though I have no inherent identity of my own, but am just a reflection of the walls.

Of all the color schemes I tried, my favorite was probably light pink with dark purple accents. I felt more myself in this configuration. The only downside was being slightly lazy and obsessively reading tarot cards for hours each day. Still, I learned a lot, especially about dreams. I learned that dreams are not so much windows into the inner self, as spyglasses through which you can know the things that other people are hiding from you. And if you take the time to look, you will find that people are hiding a lot from you.

 

 

So, back to being a number one. Why don’t I feel like an individual with a specific personality of my own? I don’t know, it may be a product of living in isolation for too long. Perhaps with no one to be your mirror you lose a sense of what your own face looks like. Of course, I have James, but- in addition to being a hard worker- he is a man of few words. Most of our conversations consist of me asking him a question and then smelling him to find the answer. Or that is how they use to go anyway.

Nowadays, I mostly know what is going on with him through physical sensations. For example, he will be at the office and all the sudden my stomach will start jumping up and down so I know he is upset about something. Or my head will start swirling and I’ll know he’s having trouble concentrating. If I suddenly feel like throwing up, I can be certain someone just touched his sandwich with their artificial fingernail. He hates that.

This sort of communication has limitations though. Normally, I only know what emotions he is experiencing and have to rely on him to fill in the details. Sometimes, there will be numbers flying around in the feelings, but I am not very good at understanding what numbers mean yet. For example, I might get a sudden headache surrounded by black number fours. What does that mean? I have no idea. Also, there are a few emotions I routinely get mixed up. A form of emotional dyslexia, I guess. For example, I have always mistaken suppressed rage for passionate love. This led to much confusion in the beginning of our relationship, when I would burst into to tears because I suddenly “knew” he was dying to make love to his Uncle Eddie- the lime green feeling in the air was unmistakable. And why did he fall in love with the mailman every time our mail was delivered to the wrong address?

 

 

I see stars

25 Dec
0

 

The sad story of a purple magician driven to suicide through harassment from the villagers, to whom he could no longer relate.

 

Purple Magician

 

I see stars in the starry sky
I feel stars in my brain
When they came with sticks and stones
I knew who was to blame…

Quick! Quick!
Hand it to me- silver cup-
Drink it down and shoot it up
I don’t to want to cry.
Last time when they came
Swinging with their jagged canes
I almost lost an eye.

To feel pain- okay! Okay to fall-
But give me someplace to turn, some name to call.

I see stars in the starry sky
I know why they shine.
When I saw them march at night
I almost lost my mind…

Quick! Quick!
Hand it to me- my syringe
I cannot afford to cringe;
I must not feel pain.
Closing on me in a ring
If they see me grimacing
They’ll fall on me like rain.

To feel pain-okay! Okay to fall-
But give me someplace to turn, some name to call.

I knew all the stars in the sky
I knew all their names
They controlled the people
Just like marbles in a game…

Quick! Quick!
Fetch my needle and my thread
Stitch my eyelids to my head-
They must not see my eyes.
They must never know the light
Twisting in from Pegasi that
Shines through all their lies.

To feel pain- okay! Okay to fall-
But give me someplace to turn, some name to call.

To cut- okay! To bleed…
Still I promise you, they’ll never see through me.

I see stars in the starry sky
I stood in their light.
They could see me flutter like a
Moth against the night.

Quick! Quick!
Fetch for me my special pill
Hide the money and my will-
It’s my time to fly.
If I have but one regret
It is that I’ve never met
Someone to tell goodbye.

Alone to live- okay! Alone to die.
Perhaps a hand waits for me in the sky.

 

Download MP3: I See Stars

The Gatekeeper

2 Dec
0

 

A new edition to my collection of songs about relationships between men and other species, in this case a gatekeeper.

Gatekeepers are humanoid immortal beings about two thirds the size of a person who are able to open the portal between dimensions. This particular gatekeeper lives in the black world of outer space and controls the gate which leads to the world of gold.  The gate is made of 2 brass doors swinging on hinges, about 10 feet high. Behind them lies a white mansion set on a yard of checkerboard grass. The gatekeeper herself can never pass through the gate. Like many immortals, she is free to move through time but bound to a particular space.

Her job is a lonely one, since not many humans pass through this particular gate. Why? Because they don’t have the balls to travel through a million miles of cold, empty blackness to reach the gold that lies on the other side. She has been watching this particular man, with whom she has become infatuated, travelling towards her for quite some time (you can see very, very far in space.) The combination of loneliness and his golden character has cast a spell on her. 

Therefore, she is considering using her position of power to initiate a romantic relation, albeit a brief one, since his golden character necessitates that he must past through the gate. In addition, it must be a non-sexual one since gatekeepers, like many immortals, don’t really have genders nor reproduce.

However, despite her power over him, she feels it may be difficult to capture his attention, even for a moment. The black world of space is one of the hardest to pass through. It is cold, dark and empty, and years of walking through this world can numb the extremities and cause the blood to turn white. When the traveler finally does reach the golden gate and see the white house behind it, the last thing he will want to do is loiter with the gatekeeper. The last thing he will want to do is gaze into round starry eyes set in a jet black face.

 

The Gatekeeper

 

Stars swim in the dark of night
Underneath sharks that bite
In between stands I prepared to fight.

Stars swim through the darkened past
Sharks eat bones; nothing last
I guard the gate through which you hope to pass.

But please stand with me
For just a minute more because I’m lonely
And please do not forget I hold the key.

If you touch my hand, I’ll be good to you
I’ll open up the gate and you can walk on through
I’ll bow my head, I know I’ll think of you.

Stars struggle to illuminate
Sharks grow tired beneath the gate
I think of you, your hands, your eyes- I wait.

I think of you- your eyes, your hands
Your hidden world, I understand, at best
I am a shadow to you, man.

But please stand with me
Let our shoulders touch because I’m lonely
And please do not forget I hold the key.

Let your fingers slide in between my own
I control the gate to your only home
I would like to feel your eyes upon my own.

Stars shine against the past
Sharks eat all the crumbs at last
I guard the gate through which you hope to pass.

Stars shine inside my head
In my mind you are my friend
I think of you, the night begins to spin.

So please stand with me
For just a minute more, because I’m lonely
And please do not forget I hold the key
I can feel it burning inside my hand
The golden door to another land
You will walk through, I will remember you man.

 

Download OGG file: The Gatekeeper

Eskimo

1 Sep
0

 

I promised myself I would not write another song until I had something warm and tropical to sing about. I feel like a cold front is sweeping this country, filling people with piousness and righteous ideas. I am okay with a little righteousness, but once it reaches the point where people start to take pleasure in doling out justice I get nervous. I did not want to add any ice to the group mind.

Still, this Arctic song woke me up in the middle of the night and I decided to write it down anyway. Because the South is all about trusting in Providence, just as the North is about Self-Reliance.

 

Eskimo

 

 

We walk through the frozen mountains.
We wade through the icy stream.
We shine like the northern rainbow.
We blow like the icy breeze.

Am I real?
Am I real?

Kneel down to drink from the water.
Kneel down to drink from the stream.
I’m too thirsty to think about it-
I don’t care if it’s dirty or clean.

Am I real?
Am I real?

We lie upon a caribou fur.
We rest our eyes upon a ceiling of ice.
Silver needles fill my fingers and toes-
I start to sink into a paradise.

Am I real?
Am I real?

We work beneath the silvery sun.
We rely on our ancestry.
Sometimes cold overtakes my heart-
It floats beside me like another me.

Am I real?
Am I real?

I cut my finger with a silvery knife.
I tuck my knife back inside of my fur.
He licks my finger with an eager tongue-
Raw meat is what we prefer.

Am I real?
Am I real?

We walk through the frozen mountains.
We wade through the icy stream.
We are silver needles beneath the sky,
Dissolving into the Bering Sea.

Am I real?
Am I real?

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