1. |
Swirling and Sowing
05:45
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Down below in the river was rowing
The depths of the streets a swirling and sowing
The ground was upended and surely offended
The pattered pulse in the midmorning march
Faces ablaze in a fastening arch
While the bridge of the river opened wide and indifferent
The land lost its footing and the balance off-putting
The gray escaped from the overhead pasture with the wave
Of a hand through the lingering moisture-clad land
And the rust and resin became noticeably more present
The apples and oats fell in wind gusts as boats
Thrown into the clouds and down ceramic throats
The white wooden bones thrust into the sea alone
To spin with their ends underneath the splintered fins
The city shook as he stepped through the door
The world had never seen the likes of him before
Glass was shattered thoroughly and water ceased to pour
Planes didn't move and the press didn't roar
He spoke through lips that didn't quiver and didn't slip
His arms hung to his side, no expression, nothing to hide
His feet unfastened calmly from the patchwork city street
As he rose into the sky and past the rising heat
His ship sailed steadily along the window-scape
Cutting with precision, culled the glass into his wake
The building quaked a porous red and shrunk in his presence
His dark silhouette burned as bright as any furnace
The cold air stripped his face with a whip
Absent of shame or blame, his mind was well-equipped
He needed nothing from anybody his ability was sound
His eyes were still and solemn as they danced over the ground
From the cellars and glass to the green open yard
The cracks were ungluing, a wide crevasse jarred
The hour of blue was stitched to the roof
While the waltz occurred in the window with robes
On a yellow glass floor with a 3am glow
And the bristle fern from which all things burn
Growing as sawdust in a cold coffee urn
The paper covered fish slipped onto the dish
And laid there with lessons of life and its lemons
How the water was wet in the warm diamond net
The windy gaping gap stirred confusion
An old chorus lap leaking asphalt infusions
From the edge of the ledge they all swung their legs
Over the ocean in constant commotion
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2. |
Long Purple Hair
07:58
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And you were there, with your long purple hair
And I was traveling those narrow winding stairs
To the observatory with telescopes, you’d agree,
That any point along the line was mine to see
We made our way through the fog and the gray
Chasing bullets from the firing brigade
And the fruits of our walk, a flowering seed and stalk,
Like red sea glass collecting by the jagged rock
We walked on through the coming dark we grew a bright photonic light that beamed unto the very slight emergence of the face of you
My head attached itself magnetically onto the bus passing unwittingly and leaving not a trace of mortality
We did our best at an angle of at least ten or less, peddling paint and metal through the frail and fragile mess
The compass scope hung freely from the neon rope, directionless, expressing solace and sense of hope, was the compass scope, from the neon rope
From the periscope I watched through the foaming soap
To pilot my boat amid the ever-moving slopes
I carried the car keys in a bucket of tar
Constructing highway systems from a spool of yarn
And the great blue whale, void of feather and scale
With boxes of business cards in wax to no avail
The stars set around us in a white sequin gown
With long ice spears thrust into the blue and brown
A crowd thronged the way flocking in a loose ballet, while the cabbage row it sprouts a sinister but thorough evening glow
And we did what we did in our own interest, caring nothing for the things we’ve missed but only for our very happiness
We raised our plates from the table to the spinning blades and filled our forks with dried peeling cork, our hands with seed and sand
The ceiling spun steadily and lifted from the walls, shot in concert, black skirt and high heel, reeling through the squall, settling on call, between the fly and the fall
We stood our ground, but the ground was soft and shifting all around
And the ivy grew and swallowed green the walls and hallowed halls
As flowers fade into a stream of falling silver shade
The cafe glass was a door, it was a door despite its mass
From the shallow pool of the garden bath there tore a tearing hole
And came a rushing wave that leveled the play but caused the field then to saturate
All the books lay flat on a mat that stretched from mouth to pallet jack
And for a second we had an episode of seasonality
In the alley walk between homes and shops I landed my shading tree
Through a pouting spout of salt and sugar I reported full and finally
And then with fluid grace she draped her head in a lovely white lunar lace
And so skewing my understanding and my sense of aerospace
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3. |
A Simple Little Line
03:53
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You’re aging your wine in oak in a little long
Unless you want a frown upon your face so strong
You can’t feel your feet and you pray in sleep
That you won’t fly across the street
I said, oh oh, I’ll put that in my pocket for now
Until you somehow bring up another topic about
How cigarettes in a submarine will keep you going past your prime
Surely you won’t go out, surely you won’t go out
Surely you won’t go out in the ocean
When the waves are turning like a siren
I met a little thing with baskets on her head
Red letters on a sign that said, They keep me out of bed,
An arrow pointing up at her smile that made a million men lose their lives
I heard my friend burned his house to the ground
To quiet all the birds that chirp from the uptown
I asked him why, he said, I swear I only did it to write it down
But no one seemed to care too much about it or wonder why
His woman came back to eat him up with a simple little line like,
My love, my love
Is like a red, red rose
My love is like blood
Well, I’d lock myself in a room full of spiders
If you would promise me that I’d get a shotgun and some lighters
I just want to prove to you that I don’t have to learn how to dance
What you need is your face on the wall
So you can learn to laugh like everyone
Come on, it’s like a Sunday morning when you feel it in your head
Surely you won’t go out, surely you won’t go out
Surely you won’t go out in the ocean
When the winds are blowing like a siren
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4. |
Polkish Revue
06:28
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We watch from the bones of the old subterranean homes
That were lost in the flood of the century
And all this waiting for the heart to give
Is hardly an acceptably good way to live
The winds without warning changed and came in from the east
The podium till morning stood there chained unto the beast
I'll take this bag of gold and run away
The streets are painted with it anyway
I knew in my mind that it wouldn’t be smart to undo it
The latch was attached in a peculiar fashion of gluing
I walked through the garden and saw that the colors were fading
The flowers were black in a way that fought back against aging
But it’s a whole other thing to be
So caught up in the words that you can’t even see
What’s being done in the name of community
At the expense of clear thought and ability
And with the weight of a meteor, fell the gavel from the highest theater
Spun among the florid weeds and wetting tongue
A scene of storybooks in ink for everyone
And though smeared and forged from fear
Still the rhymes were rhythmic and were clear
The stones had grown too large to throw
And so were rolled into an olive grove
And lay for another day
I ran into Moses and feathered his nose
As he sneezed and he dropped the third stone on his toes
We’ve left the sink to fill for hours again
In hopes the river will turn in to gin
And fish would never swim in such a water without rain
To cover the atrocity of going with the grain
We’ll drape ourselves in silk and woolen gown
To make the stage a scene for fools and clowns
The back of the boat was an old iron float and was sinking
We stood at the helm as it rocketed down into nothing
We were bound by the ground as it reached up and tugged at our ankles
The feeling is not unlike that which you'd get tarred and tangled
By grace we’re permitted a quick witted life starred and spangled
And so the trees had lost the urge
To grow and thrive, and blamed it on the earth
Whose floors had flooded over
And couldn’t retrieve what had been disposed of
All for the good of the great
And the skies collided and the clouds provided
Cold pillars of falling winter rain
And through it all a man stood and reached as tall as he could
Just to show he could do it on his own
And then shrugged as if to say…
Just leave me there by the orange velvet chair
I’d rather lose my head than be given one instead
I’ll likely cease to eat due to pain in my teeth
That arose from chewing lemons coated and sweet
My knees have been furiously under siege
And my head though enabled is unable to bleed
I’ve watched my feet walk into the weeds
Stumbling fast in a solid and patterned ease
But I still have my horn to keep me going
Though my lips are rose colored and glowing
I still have my horn to keep me going
Though my lips are rose colored and glowing
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5. |
Ballad in Evening Wear
03:40
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Feel the rain fall and wash away it all
With fingers stained of nicotine and tar
Minutes prior to hoisting the fanfare call
They've lined the well and taken the alley bar
We’d a sip of enlightened performance drip
A show by the young neo-Civil War soldiers
A timely kiss from those pouting red rose lips
She glowed, she glowed from head to heels to hips
The words they pour like smoke through a soldered door
I’ll gladly trade the reason for the rhyme when it’s my time
The books will always say, be the way, be the way
Be the beacon on the shore, be the hinges on the door
On a whim the A was set to a green clarinet
Oh, do the dance, do your worst, watch for puddles and mind your words
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6. |
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The view from the roof was yellow with dew
And it rose from the gleam of the leaf covered stream
The day fell anew upon streets and avenues
To explode in a ripening rose-steeped string
While we sat below scores of old columns and rows
And we drank from the well, toasting cold coffee and ale
The sparks shot between construction boards and beams
As the steel poured over the crowds underneath
The city was bright with a glow and was visible with light
And it reached to the sky with its fingers to pry
And we stared at the still tops of buildings that filled in the spaces with faces of steel
The air was a cool and wet dripping pool
And fell upon city sidewalks and streets
The train came and went through a dark alley vent
An underground ship speeding recklessly quick
But we couldn't tell from the scope of the bell
And the ring that it lent was subtle and bent
I swung from the lines and fell ten stories from the ringing bell
I saw the gardens creep and crawl, the buckles see and saw
There I bent to a knee and shed my skin into a drape of red
And passed the pillow stuffed with ash
To rest on winter grass
The air was a cool and wet dripping pool
And it fell upon city sidewalks and streets
We approached with great haste and toothish smiling faces
In love and at last running full-fledged and fast
Near the center square fountain stood a gaping gray mountain
Where a song could escape in a noiseless charade
Collecting in a nest underneath a wooden park bench
And swept away with a stick in a pile of magazines and bricks
People stood waiting on the platform escalating
Into stores selling smoke and shops hung with rope
Open and echoing the morning in a liquor-shadowed ring
While passers ignored what they felt was useless and a bore
We knelt in the cold wet puddles and felt with our hands what hands had built
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7. |
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Our favorite novelist was thrown
Into the river that surrounds his home
In ordinance for being read
By socialites in fancy threads
The glare from the solar flare
Illuminated the entire square
The curtains that were once in gray
Are now hanging at the cabaret
They all littered the sidewalks with
Guitars and homemade instruments
They riddled us with politics
Asking for money and free benefits
Asking for reasons to curse and kick
The plants were watered in the rain
Removing vinegar and oil stains
The judges were impressed but vain
So removed themselves in model planes
It passed between the blues and greens
A spilling parade moving sapphire and jade
In the cold winter night was bleeding white
And I was there at the end selling paper and pen
With my feet in the wind
Pacing and peddling
Oh, when I come of it my head will split
And leave a splintered rift along the spine of my design
The page is numbered for telephone support and catapulting sport
And I’ll try to ease your pain
But the morning’s still the same when you’ve moved into the rain
And drenched your coat-tails through
And you’re left a chattered blue—your Metropolitan debut
When you wish upon a star from the roof of a moving car
I’ll be there to ease your heart
I’ll sell all of my things
In hopes of ascending to the company of kings
In a chorus line of two
With our shoes polished and new we’ll walk Columbus Avenue
To the station at the gate, with a note from the head of state
And I’ll be with you while you wait
From the cold steel, a picture reel
Was spun in circles for the highest heel
Her feet were confident and coy
From years of stompin’ at the old Savoy
At the entrance of the theater fence
Where silver shoes were buckled loose to dance
Advancing in a marching stance
An upright crawl of minor dings and dents
The flicker of the tv lights
Took our credit card and movie rights
We watched the poets stand alone
Deep in puddles of their own
Free verse bludgeoned to the bone
From the counter of the cafe came
An old collection of hot water stains
In intervals of steam and rain
To quarantine the old mundane
It passed between the blues and greens
A spilling parade moving sapphire and jade
The cold winter night was bleeding white
And I was there at the end selling paper and pen
With my feet in the wind
Pacing and peddling
Oh, it was a weathered thing, a leather string
A sweater strung in pink, worn with wires and purple ink
The stage is set for a faulty fall-on prop, a yellow orange crop
The stars were stones of flowers and bones
And moved into the sound with the haste of a hound
I took to the sun and woke as one
And I had what I made using shovel and spade
Raised it to the colonnade
So I could rest in the shade
And it passed between the blues and greens
A spilling parade moving sapphire and jade
In the cold winter night was bleeding white
And I was there at the end selling paper and pen
With my feet in the wind
Pacing and peddling
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8. |
Underground Planetarium
05:23
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It’s hardly the rain that I love
But covers the cold in a haze of hats and gloves
We all look the same from above
No matter the shade of the clay we’re made of
I’ve so many days woken in this place
Still too few to separate the lull from the race
It tears me in two, these tears of bleeding blue
It’s hardly the rain that I love
You’ll always be the star in these subterranean constellations
I’ll never travel far from you through this string of tunnels and rings
The war isn’t over I’ve seen cloaked propaganda, I’ve been forced into experimental anti-aging trials
I wouldn’t usually ask it but I’ve lost my yellow basket on the bus in a rush
The stories I’ve heard of dark dystopian earths and a dual universe of the cruel and perverse
It may have just been taken and mistakenly appropriated in an ethically-questionable (mildly) inappropriate way
You’ll always be the star
I write in the page as a way to engage the ends of my sleeves and fallow faculties
I will always be there, if in trouble or despair just call my name and I’ll come, don’t worry it’s already done
Looking up at leaves, we've seen the end of sleep
Drifting through the cracks
This system, far too malleable and lax
It’s hardly the rain that I love
But covers the cold in a haze of hats and gloves
We all look the same from above
No matter the worth of the dirt we’re made of
We’ve long packed our bags but have misplaced the tags, it’s been quite a day to be handled and riddled this way
The officer sat bloated with his gun perched and loaded in case the sky exploded
I suppose it was fate that it started this way but the moon will not wane without consent from the insane
An apple for an eye if you can answer just one hypothetical query regarding the location of the jury
You’ll always be the star
In this place of unrest where the monsters and pests roam the village at night with unforgiving appetite
And I will always be there, if in trouble or despair just call my name and I’ll come, don’t worry it’s already done
We’ve taken the high ground where we can see the burning sky
The galaxy will piece itself together after an experimental endeavor
I’ve seen the end of the road, and it’s as tranquil as told
But the haze from rising days is ahead so let’s not waste our breath
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9. |
Bows to Black
05:20
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Bows to black and, nose to laces, fingers flattened, start the races
Feed the critics, log and splinter, fuel the furnace, in comes winter
It’s all been done for the day
I never come up much this way
I feel well enough for the rain
To render me pliably sane
Grease the carriage, wax the wet road, bless this marriage, mind the elbows
To the weather, wild and reckless, lace for leather, spill the filled glass
The warlock was bearded with angst
He leapt from the old cauldron tanks
To settle affairs with the witch
Whom he had covered in pitch
From the balcony flew the cheers, landing in unison, jarringly near
Her lips were quiet and taut, stretched by the nine-fifteen arms of the clock
The gallery sit cowardly still, watching the dragon devour the ill
We’d an hour to spend with the queen, as the king went out in his time machine
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Craig King Greenville, South Carolina
Craig King is a singer-songwriter and classically trained trumpet player.
For merch, visit: craigkingmusic.threadless.com
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