This is experimental noise poem. Me vox, 4 Tibetan singing bowls concentrating on two primarily and echo phase strings so there is a more ominous undercurrent throughout. This may be a download with book, I don’t know. It may still not be distorted enough as I passed out working on editing at the very end and lost all I had served as a movement between rooms of the vast to claustrophobic drone upon drone.
Do not turn up too loud. Be careful. This goes from gentle to classic earsplittiinloudenbangin one note to the next and if you have heard live Tibetan Bowls you know that they can be taken to the lowest low to a shrill thought impossible, well it is not impossible.
I had a blast recording this. It has a few of my most published poems two I think are personal masterpieces. Can you tell? Probably not. But that is not why I made this recording. I wanted to go beyond even my most experimental capabilities with live instruments. I did. So I Om’d and Namo Abitabha’d a bit just to settle the back heart into motion before an ear explosion happens. Or maybe it is not as risky as I think. Who knows? I don’t. If I did it would sound completely different and that is not why I did it this way.
Stupid background noise had me trash the first 24-28 minute version. So there is some aggression going on. We all need a little aggression.
This is not an easy piece. I would in fact call it about as experimental as I have gotten which is to say Beware Crazed Sounds Ahead. So enter at your own risk. I just wanted to go beyond anything I’ve heard and it may be because it is simply awful or that it just needs work while still being something unheard. I don’t know. Stupid background noise had me trash the first recording so this version has a bit of venom to it. Better to burn on the wing than stooped upon a ladder with some Moloch prince in a three piece suit…
DEATH AND DESTRUCTION OUT FOR A STROLL
Let go of your ego and your shame
The desires of the soul will follow
She is evil, black blood drips upon the ground
A smile that is of withering heart and grin decay,
She comes as White Goddess and leaves as Mara
The destroying angel of justice and of love.
With her walks an equal in man:
the bleeding hanged man,
Noose forever bound around his neck,
Yet you try to help to make sense of it all.
Brothers and sisters, there is no making sense.
As one they split the bonds of man and wife,
Of partners, of love, sexuality does not matter,
nor do I wish to name or fall for some division scam
to satisfy every grain of sand as winds blow
and galaxies form and then they are born and die.
This is how they do it, This is how we lose.
Unless we wish all language become a series
Of definition a first, secondary, tertiary one until it fades.
From this earth we find only confusion, divison:
this is as a lack of point at all.
This is what they wanted and do force
and, you with us all are the trap.
If Death and Disease get their way
Upon this wretched daily stroll to destruct and separate,
It will surely come, and then who to blame is not the thing
We are the thing that must be changed. Do it! Do it now!