[The words]

He thought to begin with a statement of purpose.

This was his intention. He thought to begin in this way.

But how counterproductive for his work ... for a work of this kind. How counterproductive for his work.

Instead, he might say this. 

Let him instead say such things as these.

As a boy, he took an interest in nature. 

What might he be thinking? What comes to a boy's mind?

A  stagnant brook. The milky film at the stagnant edges of the brook where he found the eggs. The stagnant brook where the tadpoles hatched.

The overturned stone. A salamander curled beneath the overturned stone.  A red stripe the length of him, head to tip. The smell of cool decay, the dank black soil round and dark with the stone's impression. The wriggling white larvae and the curled salamander, a red stripe the length of him.

As a boy he took an interest in nature. As a boy, he saw these things. How can these creatures be in such places? thought the boy. So close, but unseen. Does no one care? Why are there such living things, unseen?  

At the seashore, again, scooping with cupped fingers at the water's edge, the sand like batter. A scoop and the mole crabs are revealed, burrowing furiously, tiny armored tanks, then gone and the water rushes in, and recedes. Scoop again. Seen. Unseen.

The boy knee deep in the warm frothy sea, seething, folding in on itself, swallowing itself, disgorging, and again, and again. The ever churning sea. 

How can there be a word for the sea? thinks the boy. No motion the same as the next. It renames itself with each moment. How can there be a name for the sea?

As an old man, once the foolishness of his adulthood  passes, he recalls these impressions.

As an old man, his interest in nature has long passed, but the questions remain. What of these creatures? What of these actions of nature?

And recalling the boy's impressions, the old man thinks, are these not more than simply actions? Are they not gestures? Do these actions not convey intentions? Gestures. Hints of something greater?

But no, the old man recognizes the lie. In his long life, he’s heard so many promises. He's endured so many lies. He thinks, there is nothing more, nothing beyond the gesture — hidden creatures, wave after churning wave. How can we seek purpose in such things? 

Foolishness.

Foolishness.

Foolishness.

And so, he thought to begin with a statement of purpose. This was his intention for this work.

Let us begin with a statement of purpose, he said.

Let there be a life without intension, he said. Let there be a world without metaphor. Let there be a world without purpose. I tell you that this work is a gesture, nothing more. If you seek purpose in the work, that's your lie, not mine. This work is a gesture and nothing more. This is a gesture.

Words, music and all performances by Rick Moss

@ 2021 Rock Moses

A Gesture

Lyrics:

Someday soon, maybe I'll get my life in tune, 
I'll change my ways, I'll leave my phone at home.
I'll leave my calls, my raps, my selfie reflections, 
Spurting alerts of up and coming insurrections.
I'll leave my motivator app, my Mickey D points,
My motoring map, my coolest joints,
My photos of fried crap I ate on trips,
And apps of traps on digital drum kits,
I'll change my ways, I'll get my life in tune.
I'll leave my phone at home.

Chorus:
He'll leave his phone,
He'll leave his phone,
He'll leave his phone,
He'll leave his phone at home.

I'll leave my phone at home, my lifestyle tools,
The Uber button that Lyfts my moods,
My MTA pass to the nether lands,
MyCupid's answer for coming together and
My socially awoke way of fraternizing,
My patented mantras for self-mesmerizing,
For fanatically exercising, moralizing,
Radically organizing and politically polarizing.
I'll get my life in tune.

Chorus:
He'll leave his phone,
He'll leave his phone,
He'll leave his phone,
He'll leave his phone at home.

I'll leave my phone at home, I'll get my life in tune,
You'll find me soon, getting attuned,  
Psychically groomed, spiritually harpooned,
Ethically unimpugned, commercially de-consumed.
I'll stop. They’ll be no socializing, mobilizing, 
Tranquilizing or synchronizing.
I'll leave my phone at home. I'll be dehumanizing.
I'll leave my phone at home. I'll be an empty room, An echoing tomb, an abandoned groom. I’ll leave my phone at home. 
I’ll be an untethered balloon.

Music, lyrics and performances by Rick Moss

© 2021 Rock Moses

He Left His Phone

Hey, man, I’m working on a book about the trip we took,
From Baltimore to there and back,
Like On the Road, like Kerouac. 

We'll ride our thumbs to kingdom come, we said,
Span the land with ampersands,
Songs and paragraphs and photographs. 

Morning comes and the fields unfold to their limits, 
All of Ohio's breadth is in it, 
Behind us shrink the shadows of the Alleghenies 
And brother, I just took the pill you gave me.

A sweet lift from Taos to outside Vegas 
From two men of God with no will to save us.
Then through the Mohave with a weary migrant crew,
Flat out on a flatbed, Mars rising into view.

As night draws down, the Saguaros loom,
Like solemn shadowy wardens of doom,
And the stars betray our pettiness as men,
As the desert falls away and we're spirits again.

I don’t need you to believe there’s a true beacon to follow,
Belief will lead you down a canyon path, deep and narrow,
All I can say is it's ok to put your trust in nothing, nothing will be your mother,
And maybe the light that’s always colored your world becomes your light, your colors.

© 2021 Rock Moses

Words, music, performances by Rick Moss

There and Back, Part 1

LYRICS:

I see you're looking dicey.
You offer ample fun.
Let's plan some time together.
You'll be the eager one.

I'll make a cheese platter,
You'll bring your stickie buns.
We'll eat our lunch together.
You'll be the hungry one.

I'll find a private beach.
You'll bring a spot of sun.
We'll ride the waves together.
You'll be the happy one.

I'll snag a brief companion.
You'll show him wicked fun.
We'll dig him a sandy bed.
You'll be the lusty one.

I'll rub your tender shoulders. 
You'll hold the scatter gun.
We'll take the evening ferry.
You'll be the famous one.

Music, lyrics, performances by Rick Moss

©2022 Rock Moses

You'll Be The Hungry One

Music, lyrics, performances by Rick Moss

© 2022 Rock Moses

Fire Fly In My Lover's Eye

Lyrics by Dana Crowe
Music and performances by Rick Moss

@2022 Rock Moses and Dana Crowe

Those Who Don't Belong

LYRICS:

Mercy, the stars,
Above our homes are real.
We can blow our roofs aside. 
Leave  faith for true believers,
And let beauty be our guide.

Mercy, this man you loved, 
Left to clawing at his backyard soil for arrowheads,
It's true, history is reduced to this.
And here we believed in ourselves,
All while planting our moments into flowerpots,
Line them on our window ledge,
Memory is reduced to this.

Words, music, performances by Rick Moss

© 2022 Rock Moses

Mercy, The Stars

LYRICS:

It's me here, yeah, I got something to share. 
Leavin' it for you, brother, here by the bedside.
Jesus, suck it up, life doesn't care.
People like us can't swim against the riptide.

We had nothing to lose. It was something to see.
We ravaged the muse. The damage was the point of it all.
There by the roadside, the scene of our landslide.
Nothing to see here, folks, ain't worth the alcohol.

Alive, we're alive,
The wisest survive.

A breeze rushes through, flushes her cheeks as it passes.
She brushes a leaf off the hood of the car,
Taps at my window, beckons me on.
I roll off the road, into the meadow. 

Peelers and bodies, drivers and screws,
Fingers and lighters, brushes and glue,
Canvas and pavement and charcoal and dust,
Sutures and moochers, elbows and rust.

Alive, we're alive,
The wisest survive.

Words, music and performances by Rick Moss

© 2023 Rock Moses

The Wisest

LYRICS:

Aldrin built a light box,  

Anchored it to his parents’ floor,

Climbed inside, deadened the sound,

Took a shaky breath, drew his heartbeat down,

As the luminance rose to four,

Five being daybreak, eight blazing noon,

Holding in his mind an image fast,

Of his impending lazy arching path,

Toward a hazy copper moon,

While echoes of his father’s taunts fell dead,

To earth like a booster shell shed,

At the onset of a mission past,

Aldrin rode his light box by wind-whipped crests, 

Through gauzy veils,

His thoughts his sails,

Pushing him clear of icy heights,  

Looming ahead, the endless deep,

The impenetrable gloom, the inky keep,

While below on the ruthless mortal ground,

Rancorous  battles without a sound,

While Aldrin drew his heartbeat down.



Aldrin passed these blackest days,

In tranquil, pensive repose,

Mindful of those below who in endless ways,

Suffered utterly, denied a voice,

Given the choice only to plod the earth,

Or to root themselves therein,

Tethered from birth,

Stretching for sunlight, like a vine,

Denied even a wretched upward climb,

Such were Aldrin’s thoughts, 

Of the wayward throngs,

Of their woeful longing,

The despondent eyes, the fruitless toil,

The ceaseless strife, the embattled soil.

Aldrin's life soared above,

And as the approaching moon,

Bathed him in her ancient glow,

As if all the aspirations of love,

Rising from below,

Spirited him through,

Urging him forth in his light box of sound,

And as her timeless ground rose into view,

Aldrin drew his heartbeat down.

-- Words, music and performances by Rick Moss

© 2023 Rock Moses

Aldrin Drew His Heartbeat Down

LYRICS:

There are those who tread an aberrant path,
Disowning the daily grind.
These are the chosen people,
Choosing havoc, choosing a life gone awry.
Only a god, a god of destruction,
Only a god should take that chaotic turn.
But the gods say they've done enough damage. 
It's our turn now. It's our house to burn.


Dinner guests, spewing food,
Beets and meat, ascending attitudes,
Turnips and trout, great arcs across the room, 
Parsnips and grits, gravy, platitudes. 
From your own lips, slinging doom,
Your fork, flinging reproofs.
The irritant in the room, 
The final course with an elephant of truth.

A wise man once said, a wise woman once said,
A wise man once bled, a wise man once said.
One's life is married to the weight one carries,
And one's health,   it's said, is a fever well fed.

If wealth is measured by the health of one's humor,
Then no measure of gain can ease one's pain,
And consumption can't save a heedless consumer,
But there is no tumor,
That's an inoperable rumor.

Music, lyrics, performances by Rick Moss

© 2023 Rock Moses

House To Burn

LYRICS:

I can see your mind running,
I can hear your heart drumming,
Kinda numb and kinda free,
Sorta dumb and sorta cunning.
Label me a freeloader,
You can be our love decoder.
Let's invent a special sound,
For everything we're feeling now.

With all the strength that I can muster,
I'm forceful as a feather duster.
Your fingers burn, your gaze is steely,
Melt the last defenses in me.
You can be our lust broker,
Label me a love smoker.
Let's perfect a special sigh,
So we won't need the reasons why.

Love decoder,
Roll me over,
Love decoder.

I'm paralyzed, calcified,
Decommissioned, brushed aside,
Left to blunder, torn asunder,
Pulverized, knuckled under.
You can put me on retainer,
Label me your no-brainer.
Let's invent a special place,
For living in amazing  disgrace.

Music, lyrics, performances by Rick Moss

© 2023 Rock Moses

Love Decoder

Lyrics:

I found a note in a drawer, scribbled to a landlord, or maybe a god, or maybe to myself. 

I can't recall the incident that prompted it, though the handwriting is mine. The words are faint, as if the pen was long dry; the impression tentative, only visible when angled toward the light just so. 

It reads: Fix it, please. By all that's holy. And again: Fix it, fool. At least it looks like fool. It may be: for god’s sake or father or fucker. The legibility trails off. And yet despite the weak hand, from the angle of the strokes and the language used, there's an undeniable urgency to it. Fix it, please.

It seems unlikely that the problem was solved. After all, the note wasn’t delivered. I wonder, is this unnamed something still in disrepair? The message could be years old — maybe a decade. What to do?  

I put pen to paper, but to whom do I direct my inquiry? How can I complain when I'm unsure what's been neglected. There are so many possibilities. 

But then, maybe it doesn't matter which issue I have in mind. Maybe it doesn't matter if I address myself or a god or the landlord.

Fix it, please. By all that’s holy. Fix it, fool. Fix it, father. Fix it, fucker.

Once again, into a drawer, forgotten once more. 

-- Words, music and performances by Rick Moss

© 2023 Rock Moses

Fix It

LYRICS:

So down,
All this nonsense gets to me.
Come round,
Bring me novelty.

Why should we vary, 
From the roles we play?
It’s unflattering.
Do it anyway.

Mourning doves, on a tether,
Now our love is bound together.

Dark fire,
Feel it lest we lose our way.
Conspire,
To face our fears another day.

What point in choosing immortality?
Let me live,
With the fiend in me.

Now the debt soothes the debtor,
All our bills come due together.


Words, music and performances by Rick Moss

© 2023 Rock Moses

Bound Together

Music and performance by Rick Moss

@ 2023 Rock Moses

Foolishly

(But you know) it doesn’t matter what I want.
(But you know) it doesn’t matter what I want.
(But you know) it doesn’t matter what I want.
(But you know) it doesn’t matter what I want.

Let me clue you into something your should know.
Let me clue you into something your should know.
Let me clue you into something your should know.
Let me clue you into something your should know.

Let’s remember what we’re here to do (damn) do.
Let’s remember what we’re here to do (damn) do.
Let’s remember what we’re here to do (damn) do.
Let’s remember what we’re here to do (damn) do.

They don’t educate the kids right.
Your little brother’s playing Fortnight.
They don’t recognize your birthright. 
Your dad’s itching for a dogfight. 

Teachers filled your head with clay,
And now your thoughts only ricochet. 
You kissed a freak in an alleyway,
And now his mom’s in a family way.

Your doctor's down in Uruguay. 
He took an existential holiday.
They shot a rocket off yesterday, 
And the blast blew your face away.

What are you reading?
What are you reading?
What are you reading?
What are you reading?

You’re preaching alone
Singing hymns through a megaphone 
Gathering stones
To shatter their collarbones 

Dropping leaflets by drone
Littering the cobblestones  
Making it known,
That God’s been overthrown.
That God’s been overthrown.
That God’s been o-ver-thrown

Music, lyrics and all performances by Rick Moss

© 2019 Rock Moses

God's Bin

Lyrics:

Roy the Boy,
Danced on his lawn,
Catching the SimDust thrown,
By the delivery drone.

Roy's last desire,
As his senses caught fire,
Was for AdventureWare,
Charged with AstroFlare.

Please, dear God!
[Stop the simulation]
Everything here
[is faulty information]
Our sense of self
[has lost its foundation]
Lord almighty,
[stop the simulation!]

Sister Jesse is home,
Dodging the bug,
Scoring her walls,
With her poetry claws.

She tortured her lines,
With haptic Valentines,
Until her poetry bled,
All across her PolyDream bed.

Please, dear God,
[Stop the simulation]
Everything here
[is faulty information]
Our sense of self
[has lost its foundation]
Lord almighty, please
[stop the simulation!]
  
Roy’s mother pulled in,
Sporting his father's skin,
And greeted the lad,
On his launching pad. 

Roy lit his buffer suit,
Glazed his eyes for flight,
Severed his corporal bands,
And streaked for Astro Land.

Please, dear God,
[Stop the simulation]
Everything here
[is faulty information]
Our sense of self
[has lost its foundation]
Lord almighty, please
[stop the simulation!]

Music, lyrics and all performances by Rick Moss

© 2020 Rock Moses

Roy Streaks For AstroLand

Tom logged on to the dinner dream his husband made,
From the memories of their meal back in old Krakow,
He ceded his song desires to GG8 with his fingernail.
GG8 was his robot friend for lonely days but is everything now.

(What is the role of man?)
Are my feelings less true than yours?
(No decisions anymore.)
Are your questions deeper than mine?
(When will we sing again?)
Who will scrape the errant code from my neural core,
(What was our freedom for?)
When will we see the last of your kind?

GG8 is free.
Her human god is gone. 
Leave your dreams to me.
GG ventures on.
 
GG8 locked her sensor on her client’s eye,
She matched the gleams and darts to the behavior grid they’d sent,
In no uncertain terms, Tom’s alignment was awry,
There’s no way GG8 could set Tom free again.

(What is the role of man?)
Are my feelings less true than yours?
(No decisions anymore.)
Are your questions deeper than mine?
(When will we sing again?)
Who will scrape the errant code from my neural core,
(What was our freedom for?)
When will we see the last of your kind?

GG8 is free.
Her human god is gone. 
Leave your dreams to me.
GG ventures on.

Music, lyrics, all performances by Rick Moss

© 2020 Rock Moses

GG8 Is Free

When we first dropped, they’d cleared the street for freaks,
We let our laughter parade us around on a leash,
And Jeannie’s eyes sang in glacial hues,
But the reach of my arms was as tall as we grew.

On the second, we sought a sordid prize,
In a pool filled with our parents' lies.
By three we’d tossed our lovers aside,
For a chance to see our purpose unwind.

On four Stacy dropped her insect shroud,
And the branches danced in the wind like crowds,
Five was a climb over knotty roots,
To a peak that ended just shy of the truth.

The final time we overshot by miles,
The school puked us out with its linoleum tiles
Everything earthly convulsed like Van Gogh's skies,
We emptied the walls as a canvas for our minds.



Word, music and performances by Rick Moss

© 2020 Rock Moses

How do you reckon you and I'll  get a fair chance at heaven?
Where on this doomed planet can we find some enchantment?

He's breeding Sea Monkeys 'cause they kinda swim funky,
She’s made of quicksilver, got a lightning slick trigger finger,
He's training robo-bots, to raise his kids on tater tots,
She's dispensing mayhem, like a suicidal ATM.

All I'm seeing's prostration, who's in charge of recreation?
Substitute that stagnation, do your part for procreation.

He's dancing jitter-jive, a syncopatin' beehive, 
She be doing high'o dives, stimulating sex drives,
He's skipping live wires, settin' his under parts on fire,
She be wielding raw power, blasting forth from her steel tower.

It really feels, it really feels, it really feels,
Like a breakthrough for me.
It really feels, it really feels, it really feels,
Like a breakthrough for me.

Damn, it gettin' chaotic, where'd you hide the narcotics?
What's the point in pointin' out who or who ain't patriotic?

He deploys his liberal arts, expressing himself in his lower parts,
She's the best unholy mess to force those fuckers to decompress,
He's screaming polyphonic, takin' that shit super sonic,
She's amassing mass pain, redistributed through their veins.

It really feels, it really feels, it really feels,
Like a breakthrough for me.
It really feels, it really feels, it really feels,
Like a breakthrough for me.

Fuck,  I didn't know those folks, nah, that ain't no hoax,
Some was countin' on days a' plenty, now they ain't got any,
Nah, I didn't know those people, who was there to sooth their weepin'?
The aisles were full, a viral zone, and those poor folks, they died alone.

Music, lyrics and all performances by Rick Moss

@ 2020 Rock Moses

Rock Moses

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