Thursday, July 19, 2012

Poetry: All's Lost

His form, silhouetted against the red sky
Held a sense of defeat.
Slump shoulder posture,
His outstretched hands, pleading.

Glints of fire far from his reach
reminded him of his solitude
On a hilltop won by no one;
the child’s body lay at his feet.

His voice echoed across
the land and in his mind.
Blind eyes returned the question,
burning through his soul with

Purple sky sparkling with white ice,
the vapor of his breath the only
sign of the living here.
Still he sought an answer
A lone figure against the night
Blotting out stars,
Stained blade in his hands.

Wednesday, July 18, 2012

Where I Gush About Bush’s Album, Sea of Memories

“You shine, the world stops, and gods are humbled.”

That line right there, friends, melts me into a tingly mess of “Oh my God, that’s the best line ever!” It’s from the song, All Night Doctors, and even if the rest of the song was total crap (which it’s far from), I’d listen to it just to hear that line.

Yeah, I’m a lyrics girl.

While, in my opinion, this is the best lyric in the universe, it’s not the only reason I love this album. Bush brings together in Sea of Memories music that pulls at the core of me and beautiful lyrics that not only paint wonderful pictures in my head, but hit me in the emotional bull’s-eye. Gavin Rossdale’s voice, swoon-worthy as ever, turns it all into a concoction of inspiration that compels me to put fingers to keyboard.

And anything that makes me write is gloriously badass.  

My top three songs so far are All Night Doctors, The Sound of Winter, and Be Still My Love. There isn’t one that I just don’t like, and I’m sort of in love with their cover of Fleetwood Mac’s Landslide.

Anyone else want to share the love for Sea of Memories?  

Thursday, July 5, 2012

Poetry: Kitchen Knife

across the light oak table





                                                                     to the varnished floor.
                                                                            Terror is found in numbness of the
                                                                                                    body and clarity of the mind. 
                                                                                                                          He knows as he stares
                                                                                             at the senseless
                                                            wounds weeping red tears on his arm
                                                     Knife dangling from his pale fingers, the
beat of his madness pulsing just
Below the skin;
                                                                                                I    cant   feel
                                                                                                            I       cant       feel.