surfin' bird - the ramones
let there be more light - pink floyd
something to talk about - badly drawn boy
i feel fine right now - dj bc and the beastles (beatles/beastie boys mash-up... yes.)
big love - lindsey buckingham
i'll find links for you when i get home from work...
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Friday, May 27, 2011
dumb pluck cluck luck
down hair
twigs grass
expertly woven
eager circles drawn
in natural lines
around the tender
things that need
to be kept safe
and soft and
sheltered
you can't trust your friends
they will betray you with a love less blinding
and then at the end
they may admit that you were
missing something
marvel me
in this nest the parts
of me kept secret
kept away
from the wind and
all those things
that would grab them
in the dark
in my absence
and no one remembers
even one word that left your mouth
all the melodies were stolen
from songs by someone else
you're out of time and inspiration
filled with self pity and fear
and all the dreams that haven't dried up
are slowly drowning in your tears
more yellow birds,
more yellow birds
the dim interior
but i have walked on
too many eggshells
and despite my best efforts
the only things hatching
in my tended circles
are brown and broken
stillborn in the silence
and the wind
of too many words
just don't forget
that it's dumb luck that got you here
don't fool yourself,
misfortune's waiting for the best time
to appear
to make it clear
that all the courage
and the talent that you had
was just in dreams
and when you wake up
you will beg to get it back
to get it back
twigs grass
expertly woven
eager circles drawn
in natural lines
around the tender
things that need
to be kept safe
and soft and
sheltered
you can't trust your friends
they will betray you with a love less blinding
and then at the end
they may admit that you were
missing something
marvel me
in this nest the parts
of me kept secret
kept away
from the wind and
all those things
that would grab them
in the dark
in my absence
and no one remembers
even one word that left your mouth
all the melodies were stolen
from songs by someone else
you're out of time and inspiration
filled with self pity and fear
and all the dreams that haven't dried up
are slowly drowning in your tears
more yellow birds,
more yellow birds
the dim interior
but i have walked on
too many eggshells
and despite my best efforts
the only things hatching
in my tended circles
are brown and broken
stillborn in the silence
and the wind
of too many words
just don't forget
that it's dumb luck that got you here
don't fool yourself,
misfortune's waiting for the best time
to appear
to make it clear
that all the courage
and the talent that you had
was just in dreams
and when you wake up
you will beg to get it back
to get it back
the wrong girl
so the floodgates open
but nothing comes out
i'm feeling no relief in my head, just doubt
but my heart keeps telling me
hold your ground
you'll never learn a thing if you bail out now
and i'm lonely again tonight
i can feel it like a knot in my side
they keep saying this is part of the ride
but i'm not getting stronger
yet hold me against the light
do you see any bullet inside?
wouldn't find one if you magnified
because you've got the wrong girl
put my fingers around the back of your chair
you never miss a thing
but you missed me there
and i just kept thinking
am i prepared
to pull it out from under your trusting stare?
and the house is quiet as a hollow head
and i'm walking around bumping into things you said
this has not been as easy as i thought it would
i'd be cooling down with fire
if i thought i could
and i'm lonely again tonight
i can feel it like a knot in my side
they keep saying this is part of the ride
but i'm not getting stronger
yet hold me against the light
do you see any bullet inside?
wouldn't find one if you magnified
because you've got the wrong girl
yeah you got the wrong girl
i see you there
and the floodgates open
but nothing comes out
but nothing comes out
i'm feeling no relief in my head, just doubt
but my heart keeps telling me
hold your ground
you'll never learn a thing if you bail out now
and i'm lonely again tonight
i can feel it like a knot in my side
they keep saying this is part of the ride
but i'm not getting stronger
yet hold me against the light
do you see any bullet inside?
wouldn't find one if you magnified
because you've got the wrong girl
put my fingers around the back of your chair
you never miss a thing
but you missed me there
and i just kept thinking
am i prepared
to pull it out from under your trusting stare?
and the house is quiet as a hollow head
and i'm walking around bumping into things you said
this has not been as easy as i thought it would
i'd be cooling down with fire
if i thought i could
and i'm lonely again tonight
i can feel it like a knot in my side
they keep saying this is part of the ride
but i'm not getting stronger
yet hold me against the light
do you see any bullet inside?
wouldn't find one if you magnified
because you've got the wrong girl
yeah you got the wrong girl
i see you there
and the floodgates open
but nothing comes out
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
missing faces at 3 am
it's raining, and i can't sleep. and you're hurting in all the old places tonight.
the hardest part about crying is when you can't stop.
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
shimmer
she calls me from the cold
just when i was low,
feeling short of stable
all that she intends
and all she keeps inside
isn't on the label
she's, she's ashamed
can she take me for a while?
can i be your friend?
we'll forget the past,
or maybe i'm not able
and i break at the bend.
just when i was low,
feeling short of stable
all that she intends
and all she keeps inside
isn't on the label
she's, she's ashamed
can she take me for a while?
can i be your friend?
we'll forget the past,
or maybe i'm not able
and i break at the bend.
Monday, May 23, 2011
Sunday, May 22, 2011
brushfire
waves of white and wheat
subtle tints the lavendar
weaves in mountain,
in more wheat.
vincent, you tidal
ebb and flow of
mercurial man,
sink low your misery.
drown it in this work
of color, washed in wind
with beauty you console
the short lines, rips
and soultears.
with tiny hairs and
so much swirling, you
mask the missteps
of purpose
of everyone else's
expectations.
some too-late corners
envious green at
how you see your world.
the balm of beauty
in nature, in good-natured
love of life and mankind:
a salve to your emptiness
your doubt.
there must be
opposition in all things.
but you, poor, tortured man
that you are and were
and are still in
every stroke of colour,
blaze bright,
the center of self
stoked.
the keen spirit,
depth and sweep
no ember glow. no,
brushfire.
and every wheat field,
cottage, still life
inhaled life and is left
exhaling ash,
sweet, but with a slow burn,
bitter, peppered
on the end of my tongue.
subtle tints the lavendar
weaves in mountain,
in more wheat.
vincent, you tidal
ebb and flow of
mercurial man,
sink low your misery.
drown it in this work
of color, washed in wind
with beauty you console
the short lines, rips
and soultears.
with tiny hairs and
so much swirling, you
mask the missteps
of purpose
of everyone else's
expectations.
some too-late corners
envious green at
how you see your world.
the balm of beauty
in nature, in good-natured
love of life and mankind:
a salve to your emptiness
your doubt.
there must be
opposition in all things.
but you, poor, tortured man
that you are and were
and are still in
every stroke of colour,
blaze bright,
the center of self
stoked.
the keen spirit,
depth and sweep
no ember glow. no,
brushfire.
and every wheat field,
cottage, still life
inhaled life and is left
exhaling ash,
sweet, but with a slow burn,
bitter, peppered
on the end of my tongue.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
grey day runaway
six shots this morning -
and everything i listen to -
leave my mouth tasting bitter.
it was sent in a rush,
some desperate inner push
reached for reaching,
arms too short as always.
so you fall back, you know.
back into the things that hold you.
back from everything going on outside.
pwn noobs, hunter.
don't give a damn,
it only hurts till the pain stops,
the familiar gutwist
knifejab of all the
things you wish were more real.
plain old not enough red.
a call from the old australian
went straight to voicemail
because i screen
everything
and thought it was a telemarketer
even though i jumped
eagerly onto the do not
call list bandwagon
they still slip through.
i should get off again,
just because i want
people to call me.
some people. i need to specify.
anyway sorry, adam.
good luck in weipa.
it looks pretty in the
google images.
when you said poeser,
i thought you said bonza and i
was almost flattered.
as you were, gentlemen.
every day i wake up
alone because i'm not like
all the other boys.
i thought the net was
lifting me out of the sea.
it wasn't.
i'm stuck in an 800 lb crabpot and
it's dragging me down.
a lure for big boys
who like to grab things
in the dark.
freezing and trapped,
pull everything else down, is that it?
wait for the haul-in.
i'd blow my money on
some triumph
and break out
of this one-trick town.
drive north. to a no-trick town.
settle down.
marry a fisherman.
alaska alaska alaska
it's always been there in the back
of my mind.
i remember eighth grade.
who remembers eighth grade?
the guidance counselor asked
me what i wanted
to be when i grew up
i said a hermit who published
books through the mail for a living.
whaddaya know, i could
be halfway there.
i am halfway there.
twist and whisper the
wrong name, i don't care.
fists out. impotent ghostfighting.
all i want is
to punch holes into nothing.
bite something corporeal.
i'll run back and shake him
tightly. fight me.
miss your face like hell, but
refuse
to admit it.
a year from now we'll all be gone.
my family lives in a different state.
if you don't know what to make
of this, then we will not relate.
calloused fingers won't make you strong, edith wong.
something isn't right.
when you're kissing someone new
but you know your heart's not through
with the last boy
do you say to yourself 'this will do?'
practice all day long
till the notes are perfect
but your heart's all wrong.
doubledown the slow drown
more music, more riptide, more numb
sit in the window
but don't answer the door.
the phone rings and rings.
and rings and rings
and things.
split ends get straight
stuck at the gate
you'd run
but you missed the starting gun.
maybe we'll sing that song that we
liked the most.
maybe you'll forgive me.
maybe i'll forget.
i'll sing along to the national.
it's just these pieces that i give away.
straight cinnamon on my lips again.
i lied, it was cayenne.
not honey.
and everything i listen to -
leave my mouth tasting bitter.
it was sent in a rush,
some desperate inner push
reached for reaching,
arms too short as always.
so you fall back, you know.
back into the things that hold you.
back from everything going on outside.
pwn noobs, hunter.
don't give a damn,
it only hurts till the pain stops,
the familiar gutwist
knifejab of all the
things you wish were more real.
plain old not enough red.
a call from the old australian
went straight to voicemail
because i screen
everything
and thought it was a telemarketer
even though i jumped
eagerly onto the do not
call list bandwagon
they still slip through.
i should get off again,
just because i want
people to call me.
some people. i need to specify.
anyway sorry, adam.
good luck in weipa.
it looks pretty in the
google images.
when you said poeser,
i thought you said bonza and i
was almost flattered.
as you were, gentlemen.
every day i wake up
alone because i'm not like
all the other boys.
i thought the net was
lifting me out of the sea.
it wasn't.
i'm stuck in an 800 lb crabpot and
it's dragging me down.
a lure for big boys
who like to grab things
in the dark.
freezing and trapped,
pull everything else down, is that it?
wait for the haul-in.
i'd blow my money on
some triumph
and break out
of this one-trick town.
drive north. to a no-trick town.
settle down.
marry a fisherman.
alaska alaska alaska
it's always been there in the back
of my mind.
i remember eighth grade.
who remembers eighth grade?
the guidance counselor asked
me what i wanted
to be when i grew up
i said a hermit who published
books through the mail for a living.
whaddaya know, i could
be halfway there.
i am halfway there.
twist and whisper the
wrong name, i don't care.
fists out. impotent ghostfighting.
all i want is
to punch holes into nothing.
bite something corporeal.
i'll run back and shake him
tightly. fight me.
miss your face like hell, but
refuse
to admit it.
a year from now we'll all be gone.
my family lives in a different state.
if you don't know what to make
of this, then we will not relate.
calloused fingers won't make you strong, edith wong.
something isn't right.
when you're kissing someone new
but you know your heart's not through
with the last boy
do you say to yourself 'this will do?'
practice all day long
till the notes are perfect
but your heart's all wrong.
doubledown the slow drown
more music, more riptide, more numb
sit in the window
but don't answer the door.
the phone rings and rings.
and rings and rings
and things.
split ends get straight
stuck at the gate
you'd run
but you missed the starting gun.
maybe we'll sing that song that we
liked the most.
maybe you'll forgive me.
maybe i'll forget.
i'll sing along to the national.
it's just these pieces that i give away.
straight cinnamon on my lips again.
i lied, it was cayenne.
not honey.
Monday, May 16, 2011
back from temporary leave, it's the monday music shuffle!
(p.s. since when can you not embed youtube videos anymore? that's bollocks.)
"Stay Close" by Delorean
each secret you keep
keeps me a bit far
but i want to know
burn down the mysteries
though i know i won't
i'll never know it
i could never stand not being closer
how come
we argued again?
you suggest i didn't grasp it
it got dark some time ago now
now i'm lost
where can i reach you?
get up get up get up
"Lipstick on Your Collar" by The Saints
when you left me all alone at the record hop
you said you were going out for a soda pop
but you were gone for quite a while, half an hour or more
you came back another girl and this is what i saw
lipstick on your collar told a tale on you yeah
lipstick on your collar says you and i are through
coz lipstick on your collar is coming down on you
(love that old school aussie punk. mm.)
"Il Cielo In Una Stanza" by Mondo Cane
quando sei qui con me
questa stanza non ha pi? pareti
ma alberi,
alberi infiniti
quando sei qui vicino a me
questo soffitto viola
no, non esiste pi?
lo vedo il cielo sopra noi
che restiamo qui
abbandonati
come se non ci fosse pi?
niente, pi? niente al mondo
suona un'armonica
mi sembra un organo
che vibra per te e per me
su nell'immensit? del cielo.
per te, per me:
nel cielo
"Welcome Home" by Idlewild
i go outside to find the middle of nowhere
everyone needs their own empty stage
just like the sky with no beginning or ending
or like reading a book without a last page
as we live our lives through a series of glances
and you smile without smiling for a whole 'nother year
i think we need a little bit more understanding
i think the future is already here
stop, turn around
and say it with your eyes closed
you don't need to welcome me home
stop, turn around
try looking with your eyes wide open
welcome home
welcome home
"La Gloria" by Gotan Project
una tarde espectacular
un partido impresionante
toma la pelota nini flores de corrientes
un verdadero duende
un mago del bandoneón,
hábil y musical, siempre inspirado
la va dejando para el ruso wasserman, gustavo wasserman
auténtico gaucho judio de venado tuerto
un sabio, quizás el músico argentino
más importante residente en europa
va dejando la pelota para lini cruz,
la violinista danesa tanguera,
dinamita en lose dedos y en el alma, bellisima
va tocando la pelota por el costado para el beto müller
beto müller se acerca al área,
la va dejando para philippe cohen solal,
phillipe cohen toca para eduardo makaroff,
que está frente al arquero, va a tirar, tiró,
GOOOOOOOOOOOOTAAAAN,
GOOOOOOOOOOOOTAAAAN.
"Stay Close" by Delorean
each secret you keep
keeps me a bit far
but i want to know
burn down the mysteries
though i know i won't
i'll never know it
i could never stand not being closer
how come
we argued again?
you suggest i didn't grasp it
it got dark some time ago now
now i'm lost
where can i reach you?
get up get up get up
"Lipstick on Your Collar" by The Saints
when you left me all alone at the record hop
you said you were going out for a soda pop
but you were gone for quite a while, half an hour or more
you came back another girl and this is what i saw
lipstick on your collar told a tale on you yeah
lipstick on your collar says you and i are through
coz lipstick on your collar is coming down on you
(love that old school aussie punk. mm.)
"Il Cielo In Una Stanza" by Mondo Cane
quando sei qui con me
questa stanza non ha pi? pareti
ma alberi,
alberi infiniti
quando sei qui vicino a me
questo soffitto viola
no, non esiste pi?
lo vedo il cielo sopra noi
che restiamo qui
abbandonati
come se non ci fosse pi?
niente, pi? niente al mondo
suona un'armonica
mi sembra un organo
che vibra per te e per me
su nell'immensit? del cielo.
per te, per me:
nel cielo
"Welcome Home" by Idlewild
i go outside to find the middle of nowhere
everyone needs their own empty stage
just like the sky with no beginning or ending
or like reading a book without a last page
as we live our lives through a series of glances
and you smile without smiling for a whole 'nother year
i think we need a little bit more understanding
i think the future is already here
stop, turn around
and say it with your eyes closed
you don't need to welcome me home
stop, turn around
try looking with your eyes wide open
welcome home
welcome home
"La Gloria" by Gotan Project
una tarde espectacular
un partido impresionante
toma la pelota nini flores de corrientes
un verdadero duende
un mago del bandoneón,
hábil y musical, siempre inspirado
la va dejando para el ruso wasserman, gustavo wasserman
auténtico gaucho judio de venado tuerto
un sabio, quizás el músico argentino
más importante residente en europa
va dejando la pelota para lini cruz,
la violinista danesa tanguera,
dinamita en lose dedos y en el alma, bellisima
va tocando la pelota por el costado para el beto müller
beto müller se acerca al área,
la va dejando para philippe cohen solal,
phillipe cohen toca para eduardo makaroff,
que está frente al arquero, va a tirar, tiró,
GOOOOOOOOOOOOTAAAAN,
GOOOOOOOOOOOOTAAAAN.
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
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