1. |
Drift
07:22
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Drift
Resolute but delicate, tarmac and burgeoning life whisper
As caricatures are left crestfallen at the ambassador's masked ball.
Welcome to my world.
The long walk home, a marketplace of the mind.
Keep it real this time.
No belittling of shadows just an awareness that covert aromas
Need not transgress the heart but that ripe temptations from the Tree of Knowledge
Are but a staging post and a call to action as the play begins;
And a planet of matinee idols throw away their scripts.
A steady pace outside of time - no aches or disappointments; no assaults upon my
person.
Barbed comments abandoned in a forest clearing where a traveller's fire once burnt
And expectant shaman dabbled with mischievous spirits then wound their way home,
Twigs snapping beneath hardened feet.
--------
Drift,
Drift,
Spirit in flux.
Drift,
Drift,
The long walk home.
Drift,
The curve of motion.
--------
Undergrowth like mystic pixels in my mind's elaborate hologram.
Oceans I hover above hold no dead or transparent predators;
Just fragments of a creator on the lookout for Unity.
Calling,
Bleeding,
Reaching for the land;
Or a hand to hold.
Reminiscing about mountains scaled;
The path stretching ahead like a fuse wire of the bitter subconscious,
Somehow reconciled to waking life
And routine with its own wonder and sunlight.
--------
Drift,
Drift,
Spirit in flux.
Drift,
Drift,
The long walk home.
Drift,
The curve of motion.
--------
Rome at night.
Electricity.
Lightning of the purest, unabashed variety.
Pointing at me.
Reflecting my heart back to God.
Waking the choirs from their slumber.
Silky words in narrow streets.
Society taut but warm. Family more than just a notion.
Eyes alive in R.E.M. flick a switch and the torrent lifts.
--------
Drift,
Drift,
Spirit in flux.
Drift,
Drift,
The long walk home.
Drift,
The curve of motion.
--------
The landscape and my lucid guide unfurls sanctuary before me
In the form of somehow familiar strangers.
Millions of lifetimes connected by delicate invisible threads;
Ricocheting throughout history.
Uniting like-minded souls.
Not radicals and yet perhaps to embody love is the most radical thing of all.
Community.
Hopeful,
Vibrant,
Community.
Here artisans measure the Universe, mould atoms,
And turn neurons into Catherine wheels.
But no effigies here.
Sacrifice of the heart is what keeps the Earth spinning on her axis.
And these people will keep me turning and rotating - serenaded by the spheres,
And an orchestra of particles - God in microcosm.
The Cosmos in an aqua-blue iris.
--------
Drift,
Drift,
Spirit at peace
Drift,
Drift,
I've made it home.
Drift,
The wheel of time.
www.johnhobbs.com
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2. |
Death of a songbird
04:16
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Death of a Songbird
Trapped up, Wrapped up and Slapped up.
Caged, and can’t do a thing.
Born in Brasil, her looks could kill
Sweet song, so strong.
Stardom is where you belong.
Songbird, what have you become
Songbird, this is not your song.
Songbird, he won’t sing along.
You know the words, but you sing them wrong.
Stolen voice
Stolen song
A promise of a golden World.
No warning call, no lesson learned.
You put your fate into his hands.
Tied and beaten, no return.
You walk the stroll.
Puppet on a rope, big ass joke.
Came up short, now all is lost.
Muted melody.
Come undone.
I cut my wrist.
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3. |
This Man
04:57
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This man is furious
This man is running
This man is on a train
This man is curious
This man finds solutions
This man is a Berlin trilogy
This man is an artifact
This man is in institutions
This man is not a fossil
This man is a newborn
This man is on a quest
This man is St.John Apostle
This man's composition
This man's words
This man's sounds
will lead you into malnutrition
Berlin trilogy Berlin trilogy
This man is top of the world
This man is my best friend
This man
This man is our hope
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4. |
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5. |
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Hey rub a dub dub
Three men in a tub
The brewer, the baker, the candlestick-maker
They all sprung out of a rotten potato
An apple for the king
A pear for the queen
And a good toss over the bowling green
The bowling green it was so high
It nearly tossed me over the sky
Sky, sky, let the cat die”
(English folk origin)
I held on to a bird as it span around and around until it dropped
But I am as big and as strong as the house which I call my own
My house is full of demons who cry in the night
And speak ill of my friends
My house is a torment
When the cock crows and the sun shines
I shut my ears and close my eyes
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6. |
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when her skin flashes in the night
and wants neither favor nor despite
gracefully moving forward in no hurry
seducing me into a two seat surrey
can’t see the colour of her eyes
this encounter of behavioral disguise
far less bright than the movie lights
hear prays and echo of salvation rites
a moment of cold thrilling ecstasy
one touch of smooth velvety
hypnotized in a split second
brilliancy I had not reckoned
a silent attempt of rapprochement
i wish for nothing else adjacent
i don’t remember what I did last night
and I don’t know why I have no fright
i’ve got an arm around my waist
her suctionmark-kisses are well placed
i’ve got an arm around my neck
should have stayed on the Saint-Lawrence river in Quebec
i see my flashlight drifting away
it probably attracted it only by far from the Bay
i wanted to see the wide open and joined Dominique Scholes
he should have stopped me any further, that trois-pistoles
three hearts that pump blue blood
a hundred arms that make a flash flood
unknown and not to behold
Scylla’s mystery unfold
three hearts that pump blue blood
a hundred arms that make a flash flood
love me, embrace me, quench my thirst
pull me down in a pulsing burst
true to life connection
Humboldts embrace (and descend) perfection
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7. |
Critical words in life
02:40
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8. |
The hour of fulfillment
05:29
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From ‘Love and Death’, considered Powys' best work, published posthumously, in 1939.
It is in the hour of the fulfillment of love between a man and a woman that the reckless affirmations of mutinous life may best be apprehended. It is then that the vain mind of man, confounded utterly by the roarings of desire, lies open at last to instruction from the senses, from those five unparagoned wits that have become in one snatched instant more piercingly sensible of God’s true word than ever are the pelts of frogs to a touch from mortal fingers hot as fire. With lips pressed upon lips and with bodies of tragic flesh fast clinging, the Platonic ordinance is suddenly revoked, and spontaneously our separated halves spring back once more to their right predestined wholes. And what is contained in these supreme transports, as hollow of thought as they are deep charged with feeling? A single spirit of splendor, we hunt in triumph through forests of flame. We are the wind that bends the flower at the hour before day-break, the wave that shakes the firm rock, the forked lightning that cleaves the tree, down, down to the matrix of its roots. It is you that I am possessing. It is you to whom I give myself utterly, utterly. As two we met, but as one we are parted.
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9. |
Drift (reprise)
02:08
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flowermouth/ Dennis Ramler Eindhoven, The Netherlands
Thanks for visiting! I'm from the Netherlands and my official ' bandname', where I collaborate with other artists, is
flowermouth. Please have a listen to some of my tracks. Much of my recent tracks include spoken word poetry.
You can comment and listen to most of my music on www.soundcloud.com/flowermouth. Enjoy!
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