Who Goes Where?//deep down, i think she's fine

The Zombies - This Will Be Our Year
old charm from a record player your father smoked beside when his hair was long and his thoughts vague. his fingers tapped to the beat of discovery and the smoke whistled through the cracks of new vinyl under the hum of history. this sound has floated from leaking windows into the minds of countless music makers and history shapers, this sound that weaves so carelessly and pointedly into the hearts of eager children too young to remember the smoke your father breathed into the breast of his teenage years he gave up for your future. return the favor.
// 60spop \\

Sigur Ros - Gobbledigook
i believe in harmonies that make sense in both the natural and the mystical worlds. I believe in melodies that can soar beyond our physical limitations and dive off our mind's cliff into the river of a soul's shrouded curiosities that lap at shores of magic sand that spark journeys of escaping sounds we clutch at with dizzy hands, hungry for solace in the sense that sounds must make for us to sing along. gobbledigook has no sense, but i sing along anyway, and it is beautiful.
// freakfolk.pop.alternative \\

Magnet - The Gospel Song
ok, i'd love to dance with you. clap our hands, knock feet, and swing each other into the sunset's farewell hugs. your hair bounces as your teeth shine through enamel gates, and my boots click in time to the fluttering of your eyelashes. this gospel rings nights of youth you remember even as your skin greys, even as the moon kisses fade, even as the memories dwindle. big beat, clap clap, huzzah! and a do-se-do. stand up for this track, then pull a lover's hand close.
// pop.alternative \\

Your glass words have demonstrated just how much we've lost in a summer battle over winter come and fall's slaughter, each vowel reminding me of a secret slipped between my ears and those lips, those delicate red creatures that growl flirts and hiss taunts as we stand in an Olympian procession exposed to the torturous hot solitude of Sun and September.

Your painted mask has shown that in careful detail you tread unashamed of what you are, what beauty you guise in nocturnal mystery through insomnia eyes and how charcoal your whispers have become, spoken above tickling fingers that hugged under covers and weeped together, shedding shards of their innocent souls who knew too well what ends in December.

Your selfish care has reeked its stain across my heart, and now I too frequently feel apathy where romance and passion before stood their ground. Maybe it is for the best, since the air is thick with humidity, possibilities, reckless danger, and charms that spring magical when given time for a third.

embrace, embrace, embrace, embrace
rainstorm, rainstorm, rainstorm, rainstorm
dance, danger, dance!


1 comment:

Jason D. Hunter said...

Where are we now,
When the compass has broken,
And the clouds hide my sun.
Where are we now?