Moon rise - Nopti Racoroase

Now or Never

Idol Frequency

So Damned Tired

They say the numbness settles in
Until the pain begins again
Never did tell me when
I might expect it all to end.

Never told me if the fever goes
Ah maybe heaven knows
I’ll place another pure white rose
Bless it with my tear flows.

Not saying I’m a special case
In this god-forsaken human race
Where dark times have to have their place
Even on the best of days.

But won’t you let me see the sun
Just a glimpse of light to build upon
And space to know the end’s begun
When everything is said and done.

Spinning clouds of memory dust
Form shapes comprising both of us
Allegedly they were built on trust
But I’m never one to make a fuss.

So it seems the plot contrived
To leave me of your love deprived
And they promised me truth never lied
Ah I’m so damned tired.
.
.
Picture by Jordan Steranka on Unsplash

So Damned Tired

Pic & sound effects - Esthwaite Water, English Lake District

Published on SC 13 July 2020

June evening, Esthwaite Water

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NIGHT GARDEN

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Whatever’s clever

music & artwork . EnigmaCurry @engimacurry
https://soundcloud.com/enigmacurry/projection
lyrics, vocals, their mix & master, photography & cover design . Mariam Zohra D : Myrh

lyrics based on this poem:
------------------------
sail on
sail on
my ship will need repair
but i will be at the end of your caravan
caravan caravan caravan

need not worry for the north star will
lead me to my path

so sail on 
sail on
my ship will need repair
but i will be at the end of your caravan
caravan caravan caravan

so sail on, sail on!

Two Full Moons

At the End of Your Caravan | myrcury

Marco Lucchi : organ

5 novembre 2020

****

Is this a holy thing to see,
In a rich and fruitful land,
Babes reducd to misery,
Fed with cold and usurous hand?

Is that trembling cry a song?
Can it be a song of joy?
And so many children poor?
It is a land of poverty!

And their sun does never shine.
And their fields are bleak & bare.
And their ways are fill'd with thorns.
It is eternal winter there.

For where-e'er the sun does shine,
And where-e'er the rain does fall:
Babe can never hunger there,
Nor poverty the mind appall. 

William Blake

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