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Blue, Black, Silver, Water, Moons, Death & Ghosts Charleston, West Virginia men Music & Songs Purple, Magic & Sorcerers Uncategorized

Hey Mister

Hey mister where you go? I was waiting too?
Laying all my things around for you.
Stars shining in the night if they only knew
Waiting like I said I’d wait for you.

And its hard to be that strong
When I was waiting there for you for so long.
And its hard to live that low
When I was waiting there for you to go.

Big man walks the night alone, I was walking too.
I was walking til I find the the line to you.
Yes he walked beside me then, for a while it’s true
Tell me comfort til I found the round to you.

Cause it’s hard to live that low
But there is nowhere in the dark where you can just go.
And its hard to hear that song
The one I sang inside my head to you for so long.

I prayed you’d walk before me
Mountains that fall before me
I never knew the way that things would change.

Take my hand before the star rise
Pull the cotton away from my eyes
I wait for you to come and bring the change.

Stars shining in the night I’ll be waiting too.
Waiting like I said I wait for you.
Soft breeze blow upon me now tremble in the dew
I just stood there like I said I’d stand for you.

And it’s hard we live so long
Always dreaming of a man whose so strong.
And its hard, the things we know
When there is no place in the world where you can just go.



Categories
Charleston, West Virginia Purple, Magic & Sorcerers Writings

Where is my Venus?

(Warning. This post may contain gross words.)

I am a female. I am an artiste. Why can’t I can’t relate to Venus, beautiful goddess of women and the arts? Ruler of money, comforts and social graces? Why can I only relate to Aries, god of blood and gore? Why do I turn to him when I have problems? I started wondering about this today and then vomited out the following words. I don’t know if they will shed light on the issue or not.

*

Growing up I wanted to be a boy. Or at least a tomboy. Not because I liked boy things. I didn’t. But I wanted to like boy things. I felt incredibly guilty for not reading the sports page, watching sports games or learning sports statistics. My ultimate dream was to be seen by others as someone who was obsessed with sports. My ultimate ultimate dream was to be the first female professional football player.

I wanted to be a great athlete, but was held back by my dislike for sports. They were smelly, dull, tiring, abrasive, and lacking in color.

Still, the world I grew up in was 90% sports, so even if you disliked them you were playing them anyways. Swimming, t-ball, tennis, gymnastics and ballet when you’re little and later volleyball, basketball, tennis and track. In half of these sports, being tall made up for the fact that I was spaced out and apathetic.

It wasn’t enough to just play sports though. Unless you wanted to be an absolute loser in life you needed to force yourself to do sporty things in between playing sports. Time between sports could be filled with competitive ping pong games, shooting pool, practicing freethrows or going for a bike ride. If there was a time lapse between swim practice and tennis practice, you should arrange to hit balls with a friend. Failing that hit balls against a wall or practice your serve. But do not sit there munching a grilled cheese like a lazy piece of shit.

I knew some people from public schools who would sometimes play sports in a silly way, like hitting ping pong balls against the wall and giggling. This shocked me. My husband grew up in a religion where pure thoughts & sexuality were moralized. In my world, sports were moralized. Sports and exertion. If you chose to relax when you could be playing sports, exercising or doing something strenuous, then you were a bad person. A lazy piece of shit, to be exact.

Also on my shoulders was the weight of needing to save the female species from disgrace. They were a disgrace because they were bad at sports. The superiority of men at sports was a favorite dinner conversation. My dad liked to discuss how one day my younger brothers would surpass me in sports and this filled me with dread and humiliation. I had to stop this from happening. I had to prove that females can do everything a man can do. And so from the beginning, I was at war with nature.

But the possibility of being a worthless piece of shit was not the worst part. On its own, I could have dealt with being a loser. The real problem was that if I did not become a professional football player I would have to become a regular woman. I knew I didn’t want this. Based on everything I heard they were absolutely disgusting. They used only one thing to get through life and that was “sexual wiles.” Whatever they appeared to have achieved it was those wiles that had done it. I didn’t know exactly what wiles were, but I knew they sounded gross like smooshing your body against someone else’s while wearing a silk blouse bulging with boobs.

And since I had three brothers and no sisters, I was the only one who would have to grow up and use sexual wiles. It made me feel humiliated. They would just get to grow up and be normal people. Beating me at sports until eventually my wiles took over. This sucked.


***

Fast forward to when I’m 18 and decide to legally change my first and last name. Of course I chose a man’s name. To me, a man’s name meant I would be the person I was within, not someone who played a role to please others. Males were subjects. Females objects. A man’s value came from his accomplishments. A female’s value came from what men thought of her. Unless she could beat them in sports. But I couldn’t. By this time I was just a series of injuries and could barely walk without pain. Dreams of becoming an athlete were over. Sort of.

Now I’m 19. My first boyfriend/spiritual guru/husband and Jesus have agreed. I should be a stripper. The reasoning has something to with achieving enlightenment. I agree I should do this. Why? Because it is my greatest nightmare. You must do the thing you fear. Or as my dad liked to say “That which does not kill you makes you stronger.” If you do what feels good to you, the ego wins. If you torture yourself, the ego starts to die. Then you will finally become free to fly past the Eagle in the sky and live forever. That is literally how I thought of it.

Some people see stripping as a feminine expression. Dumbasses. It is the most manly thing in the universe. No one with a feminine side goes near those places. I can only compare it to a man working up the courage to stab himself in a nut.

It is about as sexual as a man pulling down his pants to be examined by a doctor who happens to be his uncle. But I was honor bound to do it because it combined all the things I dreaded most- being on stage, dancing, acting ‘sexy’ and worst worst worst of all- not wearing clothes. I can’t really convey in words the extent to which I did not want to be without clothing. Would you like to be naked and carved up in the middle of a Thanksgiving feast? Would you like to be hog tied with your head buried in mud and your bare ass pointing towards the sky as friends walk by pointing and laughing at you? Cause that is how it felt. Disgusting but also like a horror movie. “Guts” was my name. But the disgust and the horror were why I had to do it. Only the ego has those feelings. Unless you kill the ego you will never fly past the Eagle.

This is also the time I decided to become a Professional Body Builder. This was probably a way of trying to turn my body into a suit of armor since I really didn’t want to be naked. I was not looking to become toned. I wanted to become absofreaking ginormous like those men in magazines with veins popping out of their forehead. I wanted to be a three hundred pound monster. I was convinced that if I ate enough canned chicken and spent all day at the gym, I would become just like those men. I didn’t realize this was as unlikely as becoming a professional football player. In the summer I spent all my time pumping iron and packing down protein. When I got back to school the teacher had me stand up for the class as an example of a body type that would never be able to gain muscle mass. I was confused because in my mind I already resembled those giant men.

But that one statement popped my dream. And if I couldn’t be a successful professional male body builder then I wasn’t going to be a stripper either. The two things went together.

***

Always people were breathing down on me, sculpting me. My psychology was built around finding ways to fend others off while also seeking them out for protection. But every new protector would become the one I needed protection from. Normal, healthy people probably steered clear of me, I was so weird. Or maybe I steered clear of them. To this day, I feel very uncomfortable around nice people. When people tell me I am the dumbest person they have ever met, I feel safe, like Briar Rabbit in his briar patch. When people gang up on me I feel at home. Nobody in my family liked me. I was surrounded by invisible cooties and you could see the disgust in their faces.

***


I don’t trust men who try to pretend like men and women are the same. My first husband was like this. He would wear women’s clothing and mascara. He would decorate my room with pictures of women carrying guns and knives. And naked women making weird expressions. To me they looked like men in those unnatural poses, their faces scrunched up as though (trigger warning) they were trying to take a crap. But to the males that came around they were hot and sexy women. I never knew what they were seeing.

Husband would wear my shirts and perfume. He would buy me knives whose handles were carved into skulls. He bought me swords. He gave me a stolen gun and told me to keep it in my backpack as a symbol of female empowerment. He called the cops and told them I was planning to murder someone. A man who had recently crushed my skull but whom I had no plans to murder. It is hard to explain the full extent to which murdering people was not on my mind. It really hit me from left field. The cops took me to get psychiatric evaluation. They looked at my dorm room, the walls covered in collages and posters hung there by my husband. Violence, nudity. The big black pirate flag he had hung in my window. I had thought it was funny and weird the way teenagers think it is funny to turn a sign upside down. It was better than naked women. But when you are a potential murderer these things take on a different glow. The collection of knives on my desk. It made me feel special when he bought these for me. He wanted me to be safe and powerful. At any rate, I hadn’t had much say in the way my room was decorated. Each new piece of decor was hung while I was out and then presented to me as a surprise, a gift filled with complex existential meanings which would be laboriously laid out. Usually something along the line of female empowerment or getting past the Eagle.

Aesthetically I didn’t care for his decorations but it never occurred to me to view them through the eyes of police men. Although this wasn’t the first time police had shown up in my dorm room. Once they came because there was a gigantic naked man handcuffed to the stairwell outside my door. My name was written over his naked body, presumably by my husband. He was rattling his chains and wailing my name. I don’t know why. My roommate and I were pretty scared because this was the middle of the night and we had been sleeping. But it had become normal for my husband to do weird things in the middle of the night, like pulling the fire alarm, sometimes repeatedly forcing everyone in the dorm to evacuate. It was so loud & startling & cold & then the nightmare of having to get out of bed in a panic and be around boys without real clothes or makeup on. But he said I needed to learn to go without sleep to get past the eagle.

So when a naked guy was chained to my room wailing my name it was not totally out of the ordinary. I was usually in a state of semi-horror. The cops came and I was hid from them because I didn’t want them to see me in my nightgown with no makeup. I couldn’t look at them and I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know why he was chained there and why my name was written on his body.

My husband would wear my clothes and give me his. Sheer mesh shirts from International Male that reeked of permanent b.o. He made fun of my clothes, saying I dressed like a gigantic baby. He bought me new ones. He said he needed me to be a classy elegant lady. This had something to do with existentialism and Apollo vs Dionysus. There were always very complicated explanations for things. Classy, elegant ladies wore cutaway tops. Cutaway tops were shirts which covered up one’s entire torso except for the breasts which were left bare and exposed. I said I had never seen a cutaway top and it made no sense that elegant ladies would wear these. But that is when he would start screaming. Really really loud, just like the fire alarm. I guess his pattern was to make a false or absurd statement and then start screaming until I accepted it. He especially liked to scream in public. It seemed as though the more he screamed at me in public the more our friends would come up with psychological theories as to why he was actually a good guy, just someone with problems. Which caused an ever increasing flow of kindness and generosity in his direction.

He liked to humiliate me in public. Screaming at me until I would take off clothes or dance. Taking off his clothes in a fancy restaurant. Telling me I had to say sexual things to people, including family members, or saying sexual things himself. Giving people inappropriate gifts that were supposedly from me or threatening teachers in my name. I became accustomed to living in a state of permanent humiliation. I was horrified to be associated with myself and the dark, perverted, murderous freak I was supposed to be. But this made me cling to him even tighter. He was the only one who could love me.

People say it is your fault if you are in a bad relationship because you didn’t leave. I don’t care. I don’t know what fault means anyway. There were reasons I was with him. For starters, even before him I was very confused. I remember running around outside at night screaming “Help!! I can’t see!!!” I felt there were things in my mind I couldn’t get to. I was confused as to what was real and what wasn’t. I was always looking for people who could help me make sense of things. Nothing ever made sense in my world. My parents would say things that didn’t make any sense either. They would project strange things onto me.

Even moreso I was with him due to fear. I was terrified of my parents. I still am. I preferred being escorted by cops as a potential murderer to being alone with them. And for all his faults, my husband had the virtues of being insanely brave and bold. He wasn’t afraid of anything. He would bite the head right off of a live snake knowing it was poisonous. It was insane.

I suppose my core flaw was not being an independent person. That is my core flaw to this day. Everyone is expected to be an independent person ready to handle life completely on their own at a moment’s notice. But it is hard to be independent when you can’t trust your mind to know what is real and what isn’t. The terror, the confusion & the dependence became this Bermuda triangle, each point playing off the others so there wasn’t any clear way to escape it. He was the only person willing to step into that mess.

Nothing has really changed. I am still confused, still terrified and still dependent. But I try to be a productive person to make up for my flaws. I don’t want to be a net drain on the world.

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Blue, Black, Silver, Water, Moons, Death & Ghosts Charleston, West Virginia Music & Songs Purple, Magic & Sorcerers Red, Soldiers, & Fire Uncategorized

Light on the Wall


Light on the wall
Just stare at it hard then he’s coming to call
He said that your name was the cause for it all
But you knew truth- he knew nothing at all
And next thing it’s all coming down.

Blue on your mind
Then come the words that you’re struggling to find
A world that don’t change and his arm like a vine
till he’s lifting you up by the shoulder.

Waited too long
You can’t hold it back now you’re lost in the song
To enter a world where you could not belong
only lay hypnotized in the smolder.

Cotton is shame
But when you’re alone then you’re primed for the game
The way you’ll go out is the way that you came
To touch is to know that you’re feeling the same
And next thing it’s all coming down.

Light on your mind
It hurts when you know he’s not looking to find
Anything more than to have a good time and that
you were the one he could roller.

Melted again
Everyone knows it’s the heart of these men
To lower you down till you can’t rise again
then they turn to a friend and grow colder.

You will remain
Just hold your hands close to the fire of the pain
And in the end only the fire will remain
The men will return to the light where they came
And next thing it’s all coming down.

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Blue, Black, Silver, Water, Moons, Death & Ghosts Charleston, West Virginia Hurricane, West Virginia Music & Songs Purple, Magic & Sorcerers

The Magician (Album)

Since I am in the process of updating & readjusting the songs on my various albums, I wanted to save this version here, along with my explanation of magicians & how they are formed below…

At first this was going to be two separate albums: The Magician (songs about a magician) and Crazy 8s (songs about people being sacrificed, raped, and murdered). However, I have come to feel these albums are really one and the same, because it is the people who get raped and murdered who come back to life as magicians. Terror, shock, and horror are the parents of supernatural power. Why? I don’t know. I think of our souls as being minerals, transformed by circumstances good and bad. Circumstances sufficiently horrifying knock out a piece of our humanity and replace it with something animalistic, straight from nature.  Or, to put a psychological spin on it, being overpowered creates an obsession with power. Being overpowered by forces outside our control leads to a desperate need to extend our sphere of control. And so we turn to the occult.

However, before you run out and try to get murdered, keep in mind that this process of going through a black hole (as I like to think of it) will generally not work out in your favor. If, on the other hand, you have already been murdered, you may as well embrace the changes that have occurred and try to make the best of it.

So, what is a magician? Someone who uses supernatural power, of course. And what is supernatural power? It is the power of nature- not just whales and recycled paper, but all the power, life force and emotion built into the material world. Including factories, plastics, atom bombs and everything we consider bad. To me, coal, oil, the soil of a graveyard at midnight, or the frightening feeling of walking through a dense forest after dark best capture the essence of this supernatural power. It is black, rich, without morals, and capable of anything.

This contrasts it with spiritual powers, which connect to the divine hierarchy to enact change in the world. Spiritual powers are subject to the many rules and regulations of divine will. On the spiritual planes, power is never separated from wisdom. There are spiritual forces with more wisdom than power, but never the reverse. Therefore, connecting to the spiritual realm for help is generally safe. Perhaps you will get no help at all, but you are unlikely to be harmed.

Supernatural powers- or black magic, as they are commonly known- have no built in safeties, however. The forces involved make no judgments as to what should or should not be.  Therefore, the unwise, or (even worse) brave magician is almost certain to bring disaster on himself. The fact that his powers are borne of trauma, and he is likely filled with unresolved rage, terror, and confusion does not help at all. Most likely his powers will end up destroying his self and wreaking havoc on those around him. Think wife beaters, addicts, prostitutes… anyone whose life is filled with destructive black chaos… anyone with dark and obsessive emotions they cannot control.

So make it your goal to avoid going through one of these black holes, if possible.  The best way is to stay safe and not put yourself in harm’s way. When that is not an option, the second best choice is to fight as hard as you can. Whether it is a human or natural cause that is trying to take you down, if you try your best to win and defeat your enemies, no matter the outcome, you will come back stronger. Even if you are killed in a bar fight, so long as you fight your very hardest, you will not be sent through a black hole but instead be reborn as a man with giant muscles. No matter what the odds are, always pretend you have a chance, and fight accordingly. Do your best to crush your enemies and reach for the golden victory. Hold nothing back.

If, however, you have already been through a black hole (many are sent through as children, when they are too naive and trusting to know they should fight), the best thing you can do is to try to gather enough golden wisdom to balance out your black power. Gold is a dry and uplifting color that will drain out some of the seethingness and connect you to the angels.

So at any rate, these are songs about magic, magicians, and the color black.

Categories
Charleston, West Virginia Purple, Magic & Sorcerers Writings

Save Women, Save Yourself

I feel like people are trying to fix the masculine side of society- the economy, the government etc, when that isn’t what is broken. On a material level, we do pretty well in America with most people able to achieve a reasonable degree of prosperity through hard work. Even the poor can get fat.

It is the feminine side of life where the problems lie. People don’t feel good about life. They have low self esteem. They feel like something is missing. I believe the solution is to stop the degradation of women since they hold the key to our emotional and spiritual well being.

Right now, there is lots of talk about the need to have more female leaders, ceos, scientists etc. But herding more women into dull masculine professions will not bring about the desired changes. It may make life feel even more hollow than before. What women need is that we push back against the forces that erode their sense self-worth,* such as Hollywood, the music and fashion industries, etc. It is the subjective side of life- art, design, fashion, psychology- which needs to be freed from the forces of capitalism and masculinity.** Rather than pushing women INTO masculine domains, why not push men OUT of the feminine realms?***

The problem with men controlling the subjective realms of life (which for the sake of brevity I will refer to as “culture”) is that their masculine, egoic nature will naturally seek a way to harness these energies for personal power, glory, and control- all positive aims when they are operating in masculine realms. The true purpose of culture, though, is to release us from the emotional cage of civilization and reconnect us to a source of magic and healing- the Other World- from which we emerged. To free us from the oppression of social judgments and reconnect us with our source.

This is why the objectification of women is so dangerous. On the surface it may seem like a superficial issue- less important than war and the economy- but in reality when we make females doubt their beauty and their value- or when we give them the message that these things decrease rather than grow with time- we dishearten them to the extent that they are no longer able to fulfill their natural role in society- which is to connect us to nature. Both our inner nature and the true nature of life. It is only this connection to nature which can bring peace and true fulfillment.

Women bring beauty and depth to life in a way men can’t because their egos are weaker and their connection to the inner worlds is stronger (hence why they have holes rather than poles.) To objectify them is to hypnotize them into a state of narcissistic self-consciousness which runs counter to their true power. In this state, they struggle to be free and creative in the way that is natural to them. Fixated on themselves, they lack the energy to bring to life those things which bring joy and meaning. Forced into an unnatural state of competition they are no longer able to heal others. Without the unique contributions of females, life becomes dry and even men can no longer achieve satisfaction from their masculine achievements.

When men control the arts, for example, art becomes a competitive sport. People struggle to outdo each other in skill, artistry and innovation. The struggle for competence and domination is male nature. Or things may go one step further- as they have in Hollywood and the fashion industry- with men using their creations as Trojan horses bearing toxic messages designed to disempower the population as a whole. In many cases, these poison arrows are aimed right at women. Maybe because they are extra-susceptible due to their softer nature. Or maybe because the culture lords know that women must be displaced so that they can dicktate values and control the subjective realm in women’s place.

But true art is not about self-serving messages hidden within an artistic facade. True art carries messages from the heart or from realms which bring healing or a greater connection to life. Art is meant to FREE us from the judgments and spiritual toxins of society- not reinforce them. Whereas a masculine art tends to reinforce these judgments as the artists struggle to outdo one another in their ability to embody group values.

Currently, our culture lords present women with two main avenues for achieving value. 1. Achieve a sexy appearance by conforming to their artificially constructed ideals. 2. Prove ourselves in the masculine realms by having a successful career and making lots of money. Or even better, do both!

But neither of these are feminine aims.**** Females like to connect, heal, deepen, and beautify. And beauty- from a female perspective- is very different from the ideas promoted by the phallocratic culture gods. To them, beauty is superficial and hierarchical, based on how perfectly you approach an ideal of their determination. It is basically a competitive sport.

In a feminine sense, beauty is that which brings an inner sense of harmony, peace and healing, regardless of how rough or primitive the container may be. Interior design by males for example, tends to be ridiculously impressive to the eye and mind. Interior design by females (if they aren’t trying to compete within a male industry) would probably not impress and yet somehow create a feeling of comfort and home. Males use “beauty” to impress and intimidate. But I don’t believe that is true beauty. True beauty is what makes us whole on the inside.

So, basically, I don’t believe anyone will be healed by socialism. It will only undermine the masculine side of life while doing nothing to uplift the feminine. But we could create change by pushing back against messages which degrade and objectify women. Women should not feel their beauty and value is something to be proven. We are the EMBODIMENT of value and beauty. Whatever we are is what beauty is.

It is the nature of beauty to carry us some place new and this can only happen when you open your mind to see the perfection of what is, rather than trying to find something which adheres to your own suffocating judgments. When you seek that which reflects your own opinions and judgments beauty will always elude you. That which is perfect by your own standards is merely a reflection of your own limitations and has nothing to offer you.
This same principle applies in art. When we look for art which is good, skillful and impressive, we are only looking for that which holds us in place. The only way to travel someplace new is to appreciate that which does NOT appear to live up to your wonderful notions.

This is why art, as well as women, must be freed from masculine judgments. We need things in life which are wild, which can be appreciated but not judged, and therefore allow us to travel beyond ourselves.

THE END

*I realize I am writing as though women are helpless victims but that isn’t how I see things. I believe women have the power to wake ourselves from our own hypnotic slumber. But I also believe any male who helps women to value rather than degrade themselves will be rewarded. Because the essence of femaleness is to reward back manifold any good thing that is put into them.

**I am very much in favor of capitalism, but do feel it has spiritual dangers. For example, humans can come to believe that value itself can be determined by the market, which in essence makes popular opinion the benchmark of value, something we all know is disastrous..

** I’m not literally suggesting we push males out of the arts because then we would miss the raw, pulsing expression of red dick energy and the golden intricacy of masculine skill. .

**** I realize aims vary according the individual. But qualifying every statement is tedious.

Hi. I feel like this post may be a little confusing, but that is because it is a tiny chip off a much larger iceburg that I am attempting to get out of my brain & into the world. I don’t really enjoy writing about these things, but I feel like my people have fallen under a spell & it is my job to help them wake up.

Categories
Blue, Black, Silver, Water, Moons, Death & Ghosts Charleston, West Virginia Music & Songs Purple, Magic & Sorcerers Uncategorized

Aquamarine

Hold my head in my hands and I struggle to think
I cannot understand, I can never be sure
Though I struggle to stand, still I have one more drink
Then I follow the hand that will open the door
And he will be there for sure.

In the blue of your room where you fall over me
I begin to forget when you hover above
Till our minds overlap, like a bubble I break
Spilling into your hand, dripping down on the rug
And we will live for love.

Change me. Change me.

You could teach me the things that you know
You could give me the money that you’ve made
Lay your hands on my fingers let me know
All the things that you want for me to say.

As long as you will stay

I tried so hard to pray, but they didn’t respond
They just fluttered away, so I reached for a pill
Till the waves came to crash, cold and aquamarine
I swore I would obey, I would follow your will
As long as you love me still.

Change me. Change me.

You will teach me the things that you know
You will give me the money that you’ve made
I don’t know where the things with wings they go
Why the sound of a scream they flow away…

And so I will stay.

I remained in the bath till you pulled me beneath
Till you pulled at my hair but I didn’t resist
I could feel you around blending into the air
Looking aquamarine and I gave you my wrist
And we will live for this.

Change me. Change me.

I remained in the bath till you pulled me beneath
Till you pulled at my hair but I didn’t resist
I could feel you around, blending into the air
Looking aquamarine and I gave you my wrist.

I could see in your mind, it was just like a dream
All the things that were gone and those that stayed
But I stayed there too long and I struggled to breath
But we always knew there’d be a price to pay.

Mp3: Aquamarine

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Charleston, West Virginia Music & Songs Purple, Magic & Sorcerers Red, Soldiers, & Fire Uncategorized

The Lamp

Originally the chorus was “I feel you growing like a lamp behind me,” but then I got paranoid that lamp could have some alternate sexual meaning, as 90% of words seem to, so I changed it to Light, just to be safe. No one will read anything seedy into pure, disembodied Light.

Open the shade- I know what is coming
The stars, the sky, the moon- they are all watching
Kidneys hurt- too hard to stand
Hello floor- it’s me again.

Down on the floor- I see him beside
His golden eyes- they shine they guide.
He can’t touch; he can’t do nothing to save.
Those are the rules and he is just a slave.

Give it just a little more time- I’ll know you’ll save me.
Though you are not my man and I’m not your baby.
Give it just a little more time- I know you’ll find me.
I feel you growing like a lamp behind me.

He is silent, he is strong and standing in his square
A pane of glass between us and his body made of air
Sometimes I will slump down on that glass and I will breath him
Till I’m weak and I am crying from believing that I need him.

He says- Stand up on your legs. Oh, no, no, no- I am too weak
And if I don’t crumble like a slut who will be there for me?
Because half of all these days I can’t remember who I am
I just look around and grab onto the first hand that I can.

Give it just a little more time, I’ll know you’ll save me
Though you are not my man and I’m not your baby
Give you just a little more time, I know you’ll find me
I feel you drawing like a light behind me.

When God is your witness please say you will vouch for me
No no not to say that I was good, nor that I tried to be
But please tell him that my leaves reached up like arms towards his sky
Tell him that my roots would suck so hard they made the earth grow dry.

Give it just a little more time, I’ll know you’ll save me
Though you are not my man and I’m not your baby
Give you just a little more time I know you’ll find me
I feel you drawing like a light behind me.

Download MP3: The Lamp

Categories
Blue, Black, Silver, Water, Moons, Death & Ghosts Charleston, West Virginia Music & Songs Purple, Magic & Sorcerers Red, Soldiers, & Fire

The Lights

‘Oh! I wish you were dead.
Then I could get some sleep, just please put a bullet in your head.
Oh! You better not speak again.’
Slide to the floor, let it hold me once more, my thick and heavy friend.

Here come the Lights! Here come the Lights!
I’ll follow them now, though they’re guiding me down
Because they’ve come to set things right.
Here come the Lights!

Oh! It’s like a parade-
Everyone dancing around in the sun while I’m searching for the shade
Or someone who can help me understand the things I’ve seen;
But the dark world engulfs me, he’ll never let go because I am his queen.

Here come the Lights! Here come the Lights!
I’ll follow them now, though they’re guiding me down
Because they’ve come to set things right.
Here come the Lights!

Oh! So this is the night?
And these are the friends who slide under the door in the guise of liquid light?
Oh! This is the Column of Heat!
You have arrived, now I will shut my eyes because I know it’s safe to sleep.

Here come the Lights! Here come the Lights!
I’ll follow them now, though they’re guiding me down
Because they’ve come to set things right.
Here come the Lights!

Categories
Charleston, West Virginia Music & Songs Purple, Magic & Sorcerers Sky Blue, Ether, Flags, and Fairies Videos

Threes (Video)

Sometimes I have words to explain things & other times I don’t. This past week I was trying to expose myself to as much yellow as possible in the hopes that it would give me more practical forms of intelligence, but I don’t think it worked. I sat for long periods in front of a yellow light & afterwards just found that all the words had been knocked out of me. I’m not sure why. Probably just because yellow is so different from what I normally think about that I couldn’t make heads or tails of it.

So that is my excuse for not being able to give you any meaningful explanations for this song. Really though, it might have more to do with the nature of the song and not so much to do with yellow.

Hold me by the wrist.
Hold me to the ground.
Watch the world it flies
Spinning round and round.

Tell me what you know.
Tell me everything.
Pressed into a box.
Pressed into a ring.

See clouds that fly.
See them flying free.
That third one is I-
Do you recognize me now?

Their reflections fly
Flowing down the stream
Round my ankles I
Need you to release me now.

In the mirror there,
I saw you again
Like a foggy man
Close behind me then

Pressing into me
Your two hands were tied.
We’re in this world now
Like the square it binds.

Catch a bird that flies
Slice him into three.
Like a man he dies-
Do you understand me now?

Capture any bird
Capture anything
The relentless claw-
Do you understand me now?

When I heard your words
They were only sounds
Tying up my brain
Filling it with brown.

And my heart was tied
Like an animal too.
Our words weren’t the same
How could I explain to you?

Something isn’t right.
Something spinning wrong.
Shapes are scratching now.
Not where I belong.

Every cloud that flies
Breaking up in threes
Meaning something dies
Will you recognize me now?

Categories
Charleston, West Virginia Music & Songs Purple, Magic & Sorcerers Sky Blue, Ether, Flags, and Fairies Uncategorized

Threes

Hold me by the wrist.
Hold me to the ground.
Watch the world it flies
Spinning round and round.

Tell me what you know.
Tell me everything.
Pressed into a box.
Pressed into a ring.

See clouds that fly.
See them flying free.
That third one is I-
Do you recognize me now?

Their reflections fly
Flowing down the stream
Round my ankles I
Need you to release me now.

In the mirror there,
I saw you again
Like a foggy man
Close behind me then

Pressing into me
Your two hands were tied.
We’re in this world now
Like the square it binds.

Catch a bird that flies
Slice him into three.
Like a man he dies-
Do you understand me now?

Capture any bird
Capture anything
The relentless claw-
Do you understand me now?

When I heard your words
They were only sounds
Tying up my brain
Filling it with brown.

And my heart was tied
Like an animal too.
Our words weren’t the same
How could I explain to you?

Something isn’t right.
Something spinning wrong.
Shapes are scratching now.
Not where I belong.

Every cloud that flies
Breaking up in threes
Meaning something dies
Do you recognize me now?

DownloadMP3: Threes