I want to be dancing at the club where they play this one! And I'm late to the show and glad I didn't miss it.

Ooooh nice hiss at the end, remids me of the machines in War Of The Worlds....

These poetically poignant lyrics (a poetic gem imho) brought me pause as your spoken word ascends above the music.... inspired moments of imagery in reflection while listening.

I dance the dance
Of the barley corn
As the world
Is being born.

Dark wave 
Come to me
We’ll dance together
In the sea.

Dark wave
Passing by
You chill my heart
And grip my eyes.

Dark wave
Passing by
You chill my heart
And grip my eyes.

As I move about
In the early morn
I dance the dance
Of the barley corn.

And all about
I feel the air
A dark wave
Just over there.

I see a dark wave
Passing by
Moving quietly
Through the sky.

I dance the dance
Of the barley corn
From late night
Into early morn.

Dark wave
Passing by
Like a ripple
In the sky.

Dark wave
Passing by
Like a ripple
In the sky.

Dark wave
Come to me
Perhaps friends
We could be.

I dance the dance
Of the barley corn
As the world
Is being born.

Dark wave r4

E N D C O M M - M O S U L O R B 

☿️ [ M E R C U R Y O R B 10. 26. 2025] ☿️

END COMM

Someone promised to wait.
To wait beyond.
Beyond the hourglasses and the mounds of swollen flesh.
Beyond the cuneiform codices, the spiral labyrinths, the bone flutes of extinct birds.
Past the pyramids of time and the colossal granite dolmens slumbering beneath Antarctic glaciers.
But no one came back.

The song is the lament of those who still hope to say goodbye.
To say goodbye fiercely—with their eyes, with their hands, with everything that exists beyond the body.
To part with such violence that reality thins, and the blazing ground of grass takes on the texture of dragonfly wings.
The voice of the one still waiting calls out, demands, roars through the wound that a heavy slab carved with the word “LOVE” can barely cauterize.
The slab of a forgotten grave, in a windswept cemetery on the Atlantic coast.
At the edge of a cliff where—warmed by magma beating to the phases of the moon—earth, ocean, and sky fuse together: into amber, into lead, into cobalt.

When those who wait begin to sing, their voices pierce the unyielding concrete of nuclear reactors, the crust of the earth, the frozen core of the gas giants in the solar system.
Their voices rattle dead loudspeakers, tear through the white noise of radios lost in the ether, whisper in the echoes of abandoned cathedrals, and sigh in crackling exhaustion through the worn-out waiting rooms of hospitals.

You can’t stop their voices from rearing up inside your eardrum, nesting forever in the synapses of your auditory nerve—so you can carry them far.
Perhaps all the way to the one who never received the goodbye.

Pictures: Lht
----
Alguien prometió esperar. Esperar más allà. Más allá de los relojes de arena y de los montículos de carne tumefacta. Más allá de los códices cuneiformes, de los laberintos en espiral, de las flautas de hueso de pájaros extintos. Allende las pirámides del tiempo y los colosales dólmenes de granito que dormitan bajo glaciares antárticos. Pero nadie volvió.

La canción es el lamento de los que esperan poder despedirse. Despedirse intensamente. Con los ojos, con las manos, con todo lo que hay más allá del cuerpo, despedirse con tal violencia que la realidad se adelgace y el suelo fulgurante de hierba adquiera consistencia de alas de libélula. La voz de quien aún espera reclama, inquiere, brama a través de la herida que una pesada losa con la palabra "AMOR" apenas logra cauterizar. La losa de una tumba olvidada, en un remoto cementerio azotado por el viento del Atlántico. Al borde de un acantilado donde, calentados por un magma que late siguiendo las fases de la luna, tierra, océano y cielo se fusionan; en ámbar, en plomo, en cobalto.

Cuando cantan los que esperan, sus voces atraviesan el hormigón implacable de los reactores nucleares, la corteza de la tierra, el núcleo congelado de los gigantes gaseosos del sistema solar. Sus voces sacuden altavoces desconectados, rasgan el ruido blanco de las radios perdidas en el éter, susurran en las reverberaciones de catedrales abandonadas, y suspiran crepitantes en las extenuadas salas de espera de los hospitales.

No puedes evitar que sus voces se te enjirafen al tímpano y aniden eternamente en las sinapsis de tu nervio auditivo, para que las lleves bien lejos. Tal vez hasta quien no pudo recibir el adiós.

Llévame lejos

Teeth Like Broken Glass

Image created by me.
https://www.deviantart.com/leehon/art/Nearly-Out-Of-Passion-1060005838

Glutton's Starvation

Aprīļa Sniegs - Pink Soup
Taken from the album Aprīļa Sniegs
Cranial Blast 042

www.cranialblast.com

cranialblast@proton.me

Aprīļa Sniegs - Pink Soup

I very slowly
Came apart
On that morning
Of the heart.

When dust settled
I had gone
Nothing left 
Of legs and arms.

There I lay
All apart
In the morning
Of the heart.

Fell down
Into empty air
No one left
Nothing there.

In the morning
As I came apart
My lips lay scattered
As was my heart.

There I lay
All apart
In the morning
Of the heart.

Lost my body
Pieces everywhere
Some on the floor
Some on the stairs.

Here in the morning
As I sang a song
I finally noticed
What was going on.

There I lay
All apart
In the morning
Of the heart.


Morning of the heart r2a

Hyperdrive

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Bandcamp

This Magic Never Ends

lovers causeway

Writer of prose and poetry since mid-1960s. Given an acoustic guitar in 1978 by long-suffering sister. Many songs produced that way. More recently, guitar skills all but faded, using GarageBand and Logic Pro to put words to music.
ps. The Bandcamp songs should be free to download. Please let me know if they're not.

Morning of the heart r2a

Peter Grimbeek

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