Words Like Birds

VOIDER

Waves apart
spines of silk
hollow me of mild and mean
start spilling out of the seams
light is timeless in sweet and shallow fields
your own mind is dangerous 
by slight of hand pulling wings off courageous things
you howl and slobber in the face of lust with no teeth -
don’t pull out your tongue for these cold and rotting husks,
these shopping bag cunts without slight or daggered hearts

Lays apart - touch the smooth stones -
their weeping hands in wait
tell me why - one good way - I never could find you there
Never give too much for naught,
don’t just pull out your guts every time they want your blood

A day eclipsed by waterfalls & lightning
void and black hollow heads 
catch what moves 
slow and mighty 
fades and drowns and fades
entangled by lines 
every book she steals and feeds
you wait here to hunt the raging weather
sleeping with death on a
page of old good byes

Every time they want you gone,
why did you wait so long?

Slow and mighty 
fade and drown and fade
cold wet stones
will not be washed away
sleepers weaving waves, 
hummingbird breath, no more suicide
don’t just pull out your guts every time these vampires
want your blood


Photo credits from the incredible artist Amy Goh: https://www.facebook.com/inkyapocalypse

Voider

Tant que sous nos pieds la terre ne tremble pas
Tant qu'au-dessus de nos yeux levés le ciel est là
Tant que sur la terre nos pieds ne tremblent pas
Tant que sous le ciel nos yeux levés ne cillent pas

On lira Hemingway
On écoutera de la musique
On s'allongera dans l'herbe
Et on fera des pique-nique (bis)
On s'baladera dans les quartiers
On s ' embrassera dans les ruelles
On s'prendra un petit café
Et on boira sous les platanes (bis)

Tant que sous nos pieds la terre ne tremble pas
Tant qu'au-dessus de nos yeux levés le ciel est là
Tant que sur la terre nos pieds ne tremblent pas
Tant que sous le ciel nos yeux levés ne cillent pas

On ira au ciné
On cuisinera pour les copains
On aura des débats enflammés
Et on discutera (bis)
On chérira nos libertés
Et on aimera nos frères humains
On croira à la paix
Et on choisira (bis)

On croira à la paix...
Et s'il le faut on 's battra...

L'Armée des Enfants gâtés

"Pure Cotton Ghosts" is an experimental rock-jazz fusion that pays homage to outsider music. With its off-kilter rhythms and raw, lo-fi atmosphere, the track has a spontaneous and unconventional sound that evokes the creative spirit of outsider artists. Though devoid of formal musical training, these musical outsiders produce compositions that are unfiltered and idiosyncratic. "Pure Cotton Ghosts" channels this aesthetic with its jagged time signatures and dissonant melodies. The lead guitar wails without restraint over off-beat drum grooves and wandering bass lines. This is music that embraces imperfection and thrives on instinct. Abstract yet emotionally resonant, "Pure Cotton Ghosts" celebrates the bold artistic vision of those who create on the fringes. Its avant-garde sensibility makes no compromises as it recklessly explores new sonic terrain.

Pure Cotton Ghosts

PureCottonGhosts

Mr Monocle

This Track is about a Funeral.
It represents all of the friends and family being gathered in one place. And  how they are all elements of them and their ancestors.

Artwork by Lydia Buckle

Elements Of Our Ancestors

Need Your Love So Bad (Acoustic Live)

From  a recording of an iron hinge: https://freesound.org/people/smidoid/sounds/147670/

It All Hinges On ...

Lyrics & Vocals: TheGrey
Music,Mix and Production: dj baubau
original song:
   TheGrey - the lone wolf
       https://soundcloud.com/thegrey-1/the-lone-wolf
   TheGrey soundcloud:
       https://soundcloud.com/thegrey-1

TheGrey & dj baubau - The Lone Wolf

BONE

A light hearted bluesy song about a guy going to a party and not remembering a thing afterwards.

Don’t remember but must have been...   some kind of party 

Invited to a party, last Saturday night
Got me all dressed up, I just-had to look right
Lot’s of pretty women walking about
Thought I did my best to not freak out

Don’t remember but must have been...   some kind of party 

Must‘ve had a drink or two, or maybe many more
My memory’s kind of fuzzy after walkin thru the door
Hope I wasn’t rude and craz to anybody there
Just hoping for a good time, but I guess I didn’t care
 
Don’t remember but must have been...   some kind of party 

Did I do the macarena, or strut the chicken dance
With the O Jays and Kool and the Gang, I just didn’t stand a chance
Could have been the beer, or maybe whisky shots
But I tell you one thing my friend, my head sure hurt lots

Don’t remember but must have been...   some kind of party 

Found a tattoo on my left butt cheek
Really kinda hurts but it sure looks sweet
Not asking any questions about that night
Cause people there all told me it wasn’t a pretty sight

Don’t remember but must have been...   some kind of party

Must Have Been Some Kind of Party

Must Have Been Some Kind Of Party

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".

Voider

Darius Greene

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