DARIUS GREENE

Leaves Around Their Eyes

You and I so lost in space,
let our rockets blast,
for if we fall back to Earth one day
this might just be the last.

Why on Earth do astronauts go back?

You and I at the speed of light,
let the worlds go past.
For if we fall back to Earth one day
it might be futures passed.

Why on Earth do astronauts go back?

We’ll be shooting stars
and burn up our own hearts!



Why On Earth

Where Did You Go?

Just a mic and my own bad self.. and a dusty oscillating fan - inspired by early 22nd century Nano-Dust bowl era broken robot blues heroes such as Howling Zero, Lo-Bit &amp; the Envelopes, and Rusty Fluids. Artwork lifted from the incredibly talented Brian Despain


Old Clunk

A little song to praise that special someone in your life...

Not One Good Thing

Another glimpse into my works from over the summer - only with a cheap nylon/mic and laptop - in a soonish to be released EP


Flutterina

(I had this tune hidden away for some time, bringing it back out for a spell)

BARE THORNS

Your black heart survived the fall,
then moved like an unnatural thing.
A bleak mist that slid and crawled,
 a shadow behind everything.

When the window’s a door, taken by the memory,
of creepers and vines; a scrambled moon, in the night like breath,
naked, and growing roots down into the needle’s pines.

Don’t just sit there and neigh, it’s a new day,
in the rows, see the garden it grows?
Don’t worry about the Sun in the gloom, 
it’s a knight for when light is doom.

The floor is unswept, strewn with the memories of photographs and toys; 
in the greenish noon, the calm noise of a world without girls or boys

Don’t fray it away, it’s a new day;
in the rows, see the garden, it grows!
Don’t worry about the hand of gloom,
bare your thorns, for when might is doom.

Don’t waste your breath.




art: 'thorn bush'  by Geraldine Pomeroy at http://geraldinepomeroy.blogspot.com/2009/08/thorn-bush.html

Bare Thorns

3010

My Personal Demons

Everytime I go outside all their wings will swing and fight
they carry my thoughts of you and twist my days into a blight. I feel them tapping my shoulders and I feel them tugging the hem of my sleeve, and crawling up under my legs as, im kicking them into the leaves, then I run to the room and duck for the broom while their swinging their pitchforks and burning the tips of my ears  Im tired of fear!
I’m tired of running I’ve got to fight dear!
while they’re spinning and flying and flapping
 and twirling and laughing and taunting and poking and haunting and twirling and whirling and bouncing and turning and turning some of them freezing and some of them burning
I have my mind set that I’m going to get them, swinging this broom and i’m going to hit them! I’ve got one to squish him but then they all rush in
I’ve got to let go and
I fall to the ground and they hack at my ankles, then grab my shoulders
and pull me by my hair

and here we go again....

They carry me off to their lair day by day
and torture me memories of *you* in every way
they’re never gonna let me be, they’ll always bring me pain
and do such wicked things they’ve planned in every little way

Like biting and spitting and scratching and wrenching;
pinching and stretching and ripping and cutting; tearing and pulling
they pluck out my eyes, pull of my hands and then sever my thighs,
devils and lemures and demons and goblins and things without eyes;
singing and burning with pitchforks and dancing and laughing and fire!
, turning big cranks they lower me down, crushing my bones, mulching my spine, stretching me out like a torn bit of twine

why won’t the memories of you go away!!!! 

Slicing and poking and stinging and ripping and tearing and cutting
and breaking and splitting, they pluck out my arms and then suck out my spine,
then shatter my ribs with a hammer of spikes,
pull out my guts from my stomach below
and burn out my heart with a torch  and hot coals
wrenching and ripping my knees and my toes, then
sticking my parts on the head on a pole!

They carry me off, through their lair day by day
and toture me with memories of you in every way
they’re never gonna let me be, they’ll always bring me pain
and do such wicked things they’ve planned in every little way

Why do you torture me?
Do you think you might can let me go?
She’s coming back you know, she’s coming back.
She’s coming back.
She’s never coming back?
She’s never coming back??

She’s never coming back.

We carry him off through our lair day by day
and torture him with memories of her in every way
we’re never gonna let him be we’ll always bring him pain
and do such wicked things we plan in every little way

She’s never coming back.
Go away.

We’ll never go away.

My Personal Demons

Glowpoke

My Golden Sun

Nobody Else

Mary Kong

This song began last summer, then was put aside until I finished it up yesterday; finally feeling the mood again. Enjoy!  Artwork nipped from Aleksandra Antic! http://www.aleksandraantic.com/


KITE BONES


I always see you there,
laid in the blades of buffalo grass.
Pages of lichen guests, emblazed with life like dreams
Cicadas will thrash and kiss
like a train wreck of dying violins,
like typewriters speak in code, 
with words that can make you bright.
The pavement is cracked from the roots,
it’s obvious which one will one day win,
ending the place where you begin.
A simple field between the roads and lines,
a better thing than plastic turned to bone.
Before some clumsy hand turned you to stone.


The window half emblazed, 
a stream of the light with the shades drawn down;
a flurry of specks and dots and shadows of long lost leaves.
Memories long and old, a passage of mossy cobblestones,
a shaking of life in a storm, with rains that can make you shine,
the tire below the old tree, untethered from it’s noose,
it’s face washed out.
The spot near where you found
the trail between the homes and lines,
the safest place from plastic turned to bone,
before some clumsy hand turns you to stone.


Kite Bones

Velveteen

SINKING BLACK PEARL

Might I fill up your cup - 
as the dead waves rule and cut
As one eye: sleeping flat.
The burnt sea; green and black.
Show me now, wash me down the orchard rows
I will crawl down in your eyes and 
turn your hair to seaweed groves
You are wild glittering like teeth.
Might it slide around your feet, 
a streetlight will grow from above,
the rain blurs. Memory hides.
Flesh comes. Water sighs.

To reach down in your gut and stir 
out a copse of powdered wings, 
unwedded colors singing strong, 
a face of stars and wraiths, 
beat against the headlights it rapes.
Naked. Oh, so cold.
What shimmers needs no soul.
Dream low. Sleeping ink.
Flesh comes. Water sinks. 

It pushes you up and it pulls you down, it rips you between the blue black rays.
It kicks in your heart, it smashes your skull, it freezes your skin with the grace of hell. 
It tangles your hair. It clutters your home. It floods your mind to still your throws;
don’t even struggle, don’t even fight, just sink down and down and down.
Where you belong. 
Where you belong.

Sinking Black Pearl

...Honey combs the wild eyed bees, violins and springs;
with twigs and strings - a hummingbird’s bowed viola wings.

Twigs & Strings (Owl's Tears)

Vessel

We hold the dark of sighs in howling creatures sweet as young;
the hours never turn for those who ride the raving backs of bats and brooms.
Forever’s haunted dress unfolds; whatever is severed from 
the shadow of the storm we will claim as ours to Love.  
For you that holds the midnight, without a grave or home,
be steadfast we will come to take you in the fold as one.

The pumpkin moon is still coming for the burning heart still slaves;
never let them snuff you out, so beautiful and brave.
The harvest moon is still coming to reap the heart that stays true;
never is a poison kiss as beautiful as you.

Hold to your blooms and sweep up the roofs; 
the stars will come raining down.
Old willow, dance with me.
Some day you know, the blues of the black sky,
will dry its tears and wipe us all away.

The pumpkin moon is still coming, for the truest heart still yearns
I’ll never let them snuff you out so beautiful you burn

DARIUS GREENE

Allso