The day the spacemen
came to town,
we shot them down,
we shot them down.

And up they sprang
to walk again,
straight into town
to settle down.

Their hair was like
electric
crackling in
our afternoon.

Their skin was of
an unknown
color shifting in
the sun, the moon.

They looked and walked
and talked from far,
and made an
unexpected sound.

Like something
half suspected
we could never
get our tongues around.

And, oh, but they
were beautiful
space men and women
every one.

But not like us:
we shot them down,
we shot them down,
we shot them down.

We hid them in
our shallow earth
(God damn our souls,
God damn our birth).

But up they sprang
to walk again
across the bridge
and into town.

[[ It's a story about alien invaders, of course, or at least that's what it looks like on the surface. But it's really about racism and xenophobia, in case that's not obvious. Any strange grammar, etc., is intentional. Every sound matters. ]]

She Dreams

Dec. 31st, 2016 06:14 pm
She dreams of science, dreams of progress,
dreams of wolves running over
(wolves coming for her)
wolves running over the field
(wolves in the fold).

She dreams of marriage, dreams of babies,
dreams of wolves running over
(wolves coming for her)
wolves running over the field
(wolves in the fold).

She dreams of holy orders,
withdrawal from this world,
she dreams of
god the feather,
god the sun and moon,
god the goat, she
dreams of wolves running over
(wolves coming for her)
wolves running over the field
(wolves in the fold).

She believes there must be meaning
in these dreams.
She would pluck them each apart
at their seams
and feed them to you,
and feed them to you.

She would watch the birds flying and wonder what it meant,
what message they had sent.

She would unravel her entrails and read them if she could,
she wants only to be good.

[[ It's imagery taken for a run through the woods. But it's also what is going on in someone's head, the conflicts, the urges, the instincts. Augury and auspices. ]]
All we have in common
is that moon pasted on the sky.
All we have in common
is that moon pasted [ yellah ] on the sky.
We'd better get to what we came for
Before we tell that yellah moon goodbye.

Close the window to the night air;
The birds will all be singing soon.
Close the window to the night air;
The birds will all be singing soon.
And don't forget to pull the curtains
on the [ that sneaky old] man in the moon.

Baby, watch the clock -
Time runs faster than you fear.
Baby, watch the clock -
Time runs faster than you fear.
Better check your almanac -
It's the shortest evening of the year.

I won't forget this moon in June,
I will sing you this spooning tune,
And I will croon from night till noon
like a lone loon baboon...

[[ then back to the top and fade out ]]

[[ It's an intentionally old-fashioned song, maybe in a blues style, with a bit of silliness thrown in. Pluck it on a guitar or ukulele. ]]

Profile

haveaword

December 2016

S M T W T F S
    123
45678910
11121314151617
18192021222324
252627282930 31

Syndicate

RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Sep. 21st, 2017 09:09 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios