1. |
Linoleum Floors Redux
10:12
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Summer again
Out in the apple orchards of the world
For a reason readily apparent
I figure you’d be picking them
And we’d be rolling in the grass
Stop for a second and remember
What it truly was like
Early country club evenings
Carving my love with a knife
They marbled the foundation first
Of our lovely sentinel house
Built it way up so no one could touch us
And yet what have we come to, my love?
What have we come to?
It’s not just the malaise
Corporate food by day
It’s the pure statement of living without breathing
Escapes both sides but the one you want
Tell me you’re tired and I’ll go
We haven’t rhapsodized like this since
Whatever year Ra says it is
So sweet!
I’ll suck and spit till I die.
Won’t you do the same?
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2. |
Seven Hours
05:26
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Five cups of coffee I sipped
While you made your morning
Slip past
Out the door with seventeen hundred manuscripts
It’s a wonder
Any and all and everything
I’m nothing but Sartre with a bag of chips
Your pen moves faster than sound, light, tears, feelings
We can’t consinue (continue) on the same tape
Flip it over,
It’s all the same isn’t it?
I should really leave before I do any more damage
Than your characters can handle
There aren’t any dramatic pauses
Staring through the pages
But they’ll be coming.
Keep the timer running.
Don’t you notice anything?
Tears in the cloth you sewed,
That oil that spilled on the counter?
Shit, I could stop it
But I’m digging glass into my veins
I’m…. really sorry.
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3. |
Without Chemicals
11:48
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"So I prophesied as I was commanded: and as I prophesied, there was a noise, and behold a shaking, and the bones came together, bone to his bone. And when I beheld, lo, the sinews and the flesh came up upon them, and the skin covered them above: but there was no breath in them."
It came again last night
A yearning for conscience, reaching toward the light
Suddenly obscured by fire
I tried to restrain myself
You could be more than you seem
But such an analysis would seem to contradict
My every waking dream
This man was there
My blonde sister too
They gave me a cold blank stare
Uncertain of what I'd do.
Up, the banister!
Home to some of my sillier plans
But this isn't a book.
Someone, skin folded, head down, wheels locked.
Ninety nine years flown by shut off.
In her place, grey hair.......
Past the flaming lamp he flies
Traces of a rag doll flutter in his eyes
God.
God, my God,
God, God. God,
My God....
He does not have time for your silly games!
Whoever you are, wheel the basket,
Invent something else again!
The weaker man knows no one
Who can compell him to regret
Returning to dust I must
Relearn what is worst to forget
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C.W. Franz Chicago, Illinois
Enterprising poet with a strange taste in music. Butchering everything from folk to musique concrete or something.
C.W. Franz recommends:
Put Your Trust In Scum
by L. Mounts
Combines angst with every acoustic genre under the sun. OK, maybe not every genre, but its still a damn good record.
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a dead thing
by pervert princess
Brutally honest yet beautiful, tackling sexuality with a disarming lo-fi aesthetic.
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unbearably light
by chameleon hex
Literate and introspective. Of course, the trippiness doesn't hurt either.
go to albumIf you like Marital Abuse and Other Sunshine Scenarios, you may also like:
Astralingua mixes otherwordly folk and augural classical music into their newest offering.
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The freak-folk collective's debut is full of rich, haunted vocals and experimental melodies derived from more traditional idioms
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Could Divine, Remembered
by anrimeal
Proceeds from this hauntingly beautiful dark folk LP will be donated to Plataforma de Apoio aos Refugiados, for Portuguese refugee support.
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