1. |
||||
|
overglow in dusk light,
geometry of her shoulders as she knelt there, pale white,
as water slides up the sides of buildings again tonight.
enclosed in armor composite interweave,
soundless in the clouds,
a great transparent system hangs above the eaves-
for fathers and administrators
a mechanism of control.
sickly orange street light,
coarse side of telephone pole.
the great weight and the crushing blow,
oh!
light let into the skull rejoice!
and rest in eternal snow.
skyscrapers growing out of the things you don't know.
static inside backbone
train moving shaking backwards,
wish you hadn't known
you could forget
do you wish you could go back?
crushed
bereft
smashed bones
organs falling out
opened skin-
the fresh blood of the newly dead.
pain you can't ignore,
and a body you can't afford!
you're gonna be fine!
it's alright!
don't worry!
it's okay!
overgrowth on the sides of buildings'
enclosed silence-
hung above our father, the administrator.
the control mechanisms in the streetlight
right into your skull,
rejoice!
you're okay!
|
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2. |
love song
03:55
|
|||
|
hiding in a trench full of rotting meat
dreaming of you
like a weeping wound,
while thermite hangs shimmering
in the midnight.
lord of all heavens,
strong as an aircraft carrier,
good as a bullet,
bless me with fruit
and a debt ceiling so unlimited,
a voice as beautiful as a gun's,
a facial recognition smile that shines brighter than the glint
of a thousand dying suns.
oh lord
wasting away amid a great decline
oh lord
the military-industrial complex in your eyes
hiding in a trench
full of rotting meat
dreaming of you
under the lit-up undersides of trees.
you were an animal and a thing to see.
dragging your memories through the places they happened in
stretching your body out beside the plastic sea
as transport ships glide overhead
you make the physical world obey your command.
dreaming and falling through a series of dreams
as the snow of our forgetfulness falls between you and me.
|
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3. |
silver hill
05:08
|
|||
|
the sun sets
and sets in your mind
and following underneath powerlines
face obscured by smoke.
and chanting antiphonally
and morally and spiritually
bankrupt.
the sun projects warmth off of stones-
the hills silver or there at all
out your bedroom window, expanses of lawn
in between the brick buildings
wherein light is put into people you could forget having known.
the hills silver or there at all.
him in visions
framed by smell of burning curtains,
smoke within the folds of shirt collars
reflected unfolded
in wood-panelled walls.
lacking infrastructure
the body goes limp with withering.
sunken chest
impressions in skin betraying cavities.
no day will come
no construction risen or to be raised up to god
while you wait and wonder what these cyclopic structures
bend and scream under the weight of.
speaking in between masticating
the tall reflect the sun continually.
|
||||
buck Meriden, Connecticut
buck is a human artist living in connecticut, USA
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