I'm thinking of ending things, the lie of it all
Forwarded from The Channel with Three Names a.k.a Tholo's Reverie a.k.a Sekhmet's Whisper/Hurt People? Love People!
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I journeyed, long in walking, far beyond the place of stopping
Where there was no more returning to the people I had known.
I saw the world forgotten, where the grass gives up on growing
And I knew that I would never make another journey home.
Upon that fleshy plain, below the final rock outcropping
Stretched the vast and empty desert of the hungry, bleeding thing
Encompassing the earth to the horizon, all-consuming,
Crying in a thousand voices to its desolate god-king.
And the music of its crying, never dead, ever dying,
Sent me running in a madness I can scarce compare to fear,
Not to safety, but to silence - unto my own unmaking.
And yet now, upon awaking, once again the song I hear.
I long to taste the fruit of earth, I long for water quenching
Of my thirst, unending, nothing that remains can satisfy.
For my voice has joined the chorus ever more, ever mourning.
Ever singing, ever hungry. Ever dying, never die.
Where there was no more returning to the people I had known.
I saw the world forgotten, where the grass gives up on growing
And I knew that I would never make another journey home.
Upon that fleshy plain, below the final rock outcropping
Stretched the vast and empty desert of the hungry, bleeding thing
Encompassing the earth to the horizon, all-consuming,
Crying in a thousand voices to its desolate god-king.
And the music of its crying, never dead, ever dying,
Sent me running in a madness I can scarce compare to fear,
Not to safety, but to silence - unto my own unmaking.
And yet now, upon awaking, once again the song I hear.
I long to taste the fruit of earth, I long for water quenching
Of my thirst, unending, nothing that remains can satisfy.
For my voice has joined the chorus ever more, ever mourning.
Ever singing, ever hungry. Ever dying, never die.
Isle Unto Thyself
Miracle Musical
You were an isle unto thyself
You had a heart you hadn't felt
Why would it hurt me?
Or was it real?
Why did fire-erupted lands arrive?
Why did murderous animals survive?
Why did we deserve to be revived?
Why was any and everything alive?
You had a heart you hadn't felt
Why would it hurt me?
Or was it real?
Why did fire-erupted lands arrive?
Why did murderous animals survive?
Why did we deserve to be revived?
Why was any and everything alive?
There's a man I've been avoiding
I see him on busy roads
Peering through the crowd
Though I cannot tell his intentions
His gaze freezes me to my core
A smirk like scavengers pecking at my soul
There's a man I've been avoiding
He waits silently at night
Watching me from the sidewalk
No matter where I went
How much I bruised my eyes
He's always there, in my peripheral
Maybe one night I'll go up to him
Shake his hand and meet him
Perhaps I'll enjoy his company
But for now I'll just run and hide
I see him on busy roads
Peering through the crowd
Though I cannot tell his intentions
His gaze freezes me to my core
A smirk like scavengers pecking at my soul
There's a man I've been avoiding
He waits silently at night
Watching me from the sidewalk
No matter where I went
How much I bruised my eyes
He's always there, in my peripheral
Maybe one night I'll go up to him
Shake his hand and meet him
Perhaps I'll enjoy his company
But for now I'll just run and hide
Gloomy Sunday
Diamanda Galás
Sadly one Sunday, I waited and waited
With flowers in my arms, for the grief I'd created
I waited 'til dreams like my heart were all broken
The flowers were all dead and the words were unspoken
The grief that I knew was beyond all consoling
The beat of my heart was a bell that was tolling
With flowers in my arms, for the grief I'd created
I waited 'til dreams like my heart were all broken
The flowers were all dead and the words were unspoken
The grief that I knew was beyond all consoling
The beat of my heart was a bell that was tolling
“There is a vitality, a life force, a quickening that is translated through you into action, and there is only one of you in all time, this expression is unique, and if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium; and be lost. The world will not have it. It is not your business to determine how good it is, not how it compares with other expression. It is your business to keep it yours clearly and directly, to keep the channel open. You do not even have to believe in yourself or your work. You have to keep open and aware directly to the urges that motivate you. Keep the channel open. No artist is pleased. There is no satisfaction whatever at any time. There is only a queer, divine dissatisfaction, a blessed unrest that keeps us marching and makes us more alive than the others.”
- Martha Graham