Lola in the City

Improvisation over chords to the Portishead song.

Glory Box

Getting There

Falling up from earth
particle systems we are
reaching back to Gaia 
to apologize

not too late 
she cries
thinks that with 
our help she could 
teach us better ways
regard the flame 
with closer eyes

Falling Up From Earth

Don't mind me
playing second fiddle
right in the middle of your
big brass band.

Protest Songs and Other Quaint Notions

supposed

Cushions of Aged Dust Absorb One Another into Bulbous Masses of Featherweight Filth

we’ve been here now an age
causing some random issue 
to allergic little fractions of 
earthlings busy busy busy busy busying
around 
never thinking 

Cushions of Aged Dust 
Absorb One Another 
into 
Bulbous Masses  
of 
Featherweight Filth

what here as we grow
we are morphing and fracturing
gluing and gathering
as dust
jostled into clumps 
and settling and smothering
whatever surface we land on    

We network now as movement
from above sorts the best 
from the worst and the rest
get digested into this
fine cushion of aged dust
a nesting bulbous mass 
  
cushions of aged dust 
absorb one another 
into 
Bulbous Masses 
of 
Featherweight Filth

(cushions)
 but then a scourer took us all
not a small kitchen sink one
a large green industrial job
Delicate but Forceful it bull dozed us up
collapsed our structures

Like Flippers do to coral
leaving lifeless and bleached
all the surfaces cleansed of our reach

but yet you see us not 
we’re landing back already

cushions of aged dust 
absorb one another 
into 
Bulbous Masses 
of 
Featherweight Filth

cushions of aged dust 
absorb one another 
into 
Bulbous Masses 
of 
Featherweight Filth

Cushions Of Aged Dust Absorb One Another Into Bulbous Masses Of Featherwieght Filth

Thunder Gently Hollows out the Distance

I came out here 
to soak up the freshness of 
nighttime 
summer storm breaking
I can almost see 
the humidity 
dissipate in whorling blooms 
of thinning cloud 
as lashes of wind curl 
curl about everything i
n a million random tangen..  ts

a distant skyscraper
snaps into 
sharper focus 
in white and blue 
as an 
enormous charge of static 
dances along raindrops to its end

The perfect white noise 
of rain pelting everything wet
gutters begin 
a melodic
percussive
obtuse ditty 
from the sodden shingles

The noise increases as 
thunder gently 
hollows out the distance

Thunder Slowly Hollows Out The Distance

Tomorrow Is Just A Yesterday That Has Not Happened Yet

Inspired and written for Jeremy Moss' Augmented Piano entitled "Host" at South Orange Gazebo on Sloan Street.

Host

Herstory

Victoria Woodhull - Teaser

I write songs and make pictures, but not necessarily in that order.

supposed

Adam M. Gustavson

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