1. |
Newt
04:17
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swam with red underbellies
and dried upon the sun
toweled by the joy of nothing
tickling naked pores
swallowed redwood trees
and climbed upon the rocks
caressing quietly
tiptoeing across the moss
of unknown stages
we stomp upon the green of yesterday
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2. |
A Dream
07:44
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waves resonate
crying for a delicacy
that bathes against the boundries of before
dreams become sustenance
and castles reach with broken hands
yearning for the fallen sun
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3. |
Somewhere In Between
06:42
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the rising and the setting sun
the setting and the rising sun
precious gifts were lost
a soul lined with feathers
a soul lined with flowers
a soul lined with gentle folds
and here I sit, under an umbrella lined with illusions
situations I cannot begin to comprehend
situations made ever more complex
by souls of other sorts and most of all
by the soul of myself that I once knew
but I know her barely not
for she too has become a stranger
suffering somewhere in between
the madness of those spokes
turning amidst the wheels of man made horrors
still wanting to hide with her under soft blankets
wearing pajamas, tied with satin bows
taking refuge in her warm heart lined with such beliefs
that most others are just as innocent as her sacred self
that was once...
un-raped, un-touched and un-handled by human constraints
and with her I cannot detach from an ever binding bond
regardless of the cruelties inflicted by fear of gods and monsters
and faith that most of mankind is lined under umbrellas still
with feathers, with flowers, with gentle folds
especially those of both friends and strangers
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4. |
Alleviation
02:34
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hidden across stagnant trees
old souls howl
against the panes of winter
waiting to be enveloped
gathering an underground death
where the touch of torrential rains
and tears shed
relieve the comfort of confinement
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5. |
Zephyrus
04:04
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the west wind
picked me up
wrapped me delicately
shielded me
from jaded weapons
of cruelty and reality
where I can crawl again
under cherry blossoms
and tremble in delight
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6. |
Tyranny
06:38
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sitting on my shoulder day after day
morning upon morning, pecking still before the sunrise
the clock chimes three, four, sometimes five
ready to pounce upon a daily consciousness
and scratch a twice broken record of resilience
yet I realize we all wake up with the same tyrant
I may be yours, we are each others, I am mine
the oppressor is inevitable, just as the oppressed
and to escape such an intrinsic dance is as hollow
as sitting frozen against a curtain of celestial fields
and convincingly; I sit in a somber silence and remind myself...
to pet the tyrant with devotion, for it too is a pure captivating silk
gracefully black, magnificently rare and as precious as all fabrics
tied in exquisite packages unveiling enchantments of existence
adored and serene, like a rare rose rising from the underworld
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7. |
Closure
07:28
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no poem
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Pocket Fields Russian Federation
Pocket Fields focused on different variations of peaceful experimental music, field recordings, drone, sound art, warm
noise, electroacoustic, ambient, musique concrete, minimalism..
Pocket Fields release limited edition handicraft design CDr and digital formats.
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