1. |
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NINE NEURONS SHORT OF NIRVANA
Nine neurons short of nirvana, in splendiferous tangle,
We’re lost in the sauce, in love with the mystery,
We lush out rush in blow out, as in a candle.
Linking intricate constellations, losing count,
Scrimmaging love with power,
Nine neurons short of nirvana, in splendiferous tangle.
Building transitory mountains,
Stalked by black swans, marked by mishap; misshapen,
We lush out rush in blow out, as in a candle.
Morons, dark saints, dutiful heroes –
Heads down, we head dead ahead,
Nine neurons short of nirvana, in splendiferous tangle,
Bless us, bless this mess,
Bless our unruly propagation, let us shine for a time,
We lush out rush in blow out, as in a candle.
In the quiet between beats,
Between ripcord combustions in wild-eyed hearts,
Nine neurons short of nirvana, in splendiferous tangle,
We lush out rush in blow out, as in a candle.
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2. |
Hush of No People
03:11
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HUSH OF NO PEOPLE
Just thinking…
Of some moments some spirits some things and some hunger,
The hush of no people, the mush of some future.
It all slides past in the dark.
Just thinking…
The cramps and drips of bodies and beds,
Some sleep come now I’m begging my head.
A bleat for less substance.
Just thinking…
Of bits and pieces some purpose some somewhere,
Of her and of her and of her and of her there.
But not here, for sure.
So enormous, maybe, the distance to cover,
So knackered and thinking of fathers and mothers,
Some tunnel turns to me I cascade toward it
I silently slope it and ride it and brink it, then…
Just thinking again
Just building my visions
Just thinking again
And melting to millions,
Just thinking tonight
And building my visions
Just thinking tonight
And melting to millions.
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3. |
April Sixteenth
05:18
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APRIL SIXTEENTH
April Sixteenth, on April Sixteenth,
That’s when I go, down Shade of Death Road,
The people above, the people below,
To whom will I go, down Shade of Death Road?
A static vision of steel city,
Buses ferry the aggrieved to terminals
Piping yellow-black bars of music.
A pearl of stars begins sliding slowly, then faster and faster,
Down somebody’s beautiful shoulder.
April Sixteenth, on April Sixteenth,
That’s when the teeth, fall out in my hand,
Undone by boulder, or grain of sand,
Oh how will I go, down Shade of Death Road?
A red ant walks briskly, carrying a berry.
It is puny, panting, unaware of titanic forces
Sliding about its periphery, forces so much larger
And more conscious as to be completely ignorant of its existence.
The small ones continue ad infinitum. They must press on.
April Sixteenth, on April Sixteenth,
That’s what the dream, it said unto me,
But how did it know, and how did it see
Just when I would go, down Shade of Death Road?
No man is not a man is a man.
There are forces beyond our control,
To be unlocked, titillated, agitated
By whiskey, failure, happenstance and exceptionalism.
No man is a man is not a man.
April Sixteenth, on April Sixteenth,
That’s when I leave, my full-hearted bride,
Please say she’ll find me, on that bright other side,
Say so as I go, down Shade of Death Road.
The final vision –
The crow’s last, blinded flight into glass.
The low, damp hills and the forest.
The munching chust bugs.
The slow conversion to peopleless steppe,
Cracked and rippled, detached and loving,
That needs your bones to grow.
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Lost in a State Portland, Oregon
Lost in a State is the vehicle for the words of Matthew Peipert, a poet based in Portland, Oregon. He creates musical poems with Robin Anthony Coe (guitar) and Martin Cantwell (percussion/effects/production), and his written work has been featured by 3:AM Magazine, Beat the Dust, Dead Sheep, Newtown Literary, Spork Press and Word Riot. For more, go to www.lostinastate.com. ... more
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