LISTEN

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

Horns & Hooves

I’m not the problem you see,
there’s not one horn on my head.
All these bishops and statesmen, 
just blame me in their stead. 
For their own dark crimes
they commit for greed and pride.
I never fed you an apple, just a taste of
 the seeds. I gave your weak hands a grasping, so
you could get off your knees; and there you stand,
that bloody book still in your hands.

Don’t blame me, you swear, you’ve done all that you could.
Dont’ blame me, you swear, by your horns and your hooves...

I see your whole world is burning, I
didn’t put the flame in your hand,
your ambitions are quite ugly if your thirst has no end;
for the ignorance of your mouth, to devour 
the rooms of the house.  And to the wild-eyed pious,
who all scream out my name, who stand there shaking their feathers, 
but were always to blame...

You’ve danced around the truth for as long as you could,
but your tail’s catching up, to your horns and your hooves!

Horns & Hooves

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

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

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

Download/Donate

Bats & Brooms

We have to move them exactly so,
or all we see are ghosts and snow

Rabbit Ears

Oneshot piano/vox of one of my first half decent songs written years back, this, or more likely a better take, will be on the album 'Bare Thorns'. 


Every Bright Star

Songster, Composer, & Sound Mangler

Warbling sea harbored melodies - rhythmic tintinnabulary cabalettas inside soft baked fairy tale threnodies - lilting moontouched theramins and/or psychic lithographs of balloons, barns, and braided banana leaves - sleeping during dogwatch in the crosstrees by the languid moans of threadbare weatherboards - gritty euphonic lo-fi transmissions from long dead moon farms - invocations from antique radios short circuiting in cool spring rain.

This is for the anchors which bind the sugar to the orange.
For summoning unseasonal titans to storm the calamity of drab hours, out of ether,
the cloud throned dumplings who give suck to fat breasted delight and unabashed waking -
the blimpy sprites who gratify each naked fig by imbibing their mistaken turns
into the cotton headed sighs of unloved mouse trap music. 



My work has been featured on various Netlabels, film experiments, and worldwide radio shows, including BBC6's "Introducing".

LISTEN

Darius Greene