well, i guess what they say is true
i could never spend my life with a man like you
i could never be your woman.
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
she walks along the edge of where the ocean meets the land just like she's walking on a wire in the circus
step out the front door like a ghost into the fog
where no one notices the contrast of white on white.
and in between the moon and you
the angels get a better view
of the crumbling difference between wrong and right.
i walk in the air, between the rain,
through myself and back again
where? i don't know
maria says she's dying,
through the door i hear her crying
why? i don't know
round here we always stand up straight
round here something radiates
maria came from nashville with a suitcase in her hand
she said she'd like to meet a boy who looks like elvis.
and she walks along the edge of where the ocean meets the land
just like she's walking on a wire in the circus.
she parks her car outside of my house and takes her clothes off,
says she's close to understanding Jesus.
she knows she's more than just a little misunderstood,
she has trouble acting normal when she's nervous.
round here we're carving out our names
round here we all look the same
round here we talk just like lions, but we sacrifice like lambs
round here she's slipping through my hands
oohhh sleeping children better run like the wind,
out of the lightning dream
mama's little baby better get herself in
out of the lightning
she says "it's only in my head."
she says "sshhh...i know it's only in my head."
but the girl on the car in the parking lot says:
"man, you should try to take a shot.
can't you see my walls are crumblin?"
then she looks up at the building
says she's thinkin of jumping.
she saysshe's tired of life,
she must be tired of something.
round here she's always on my mind
round here (hey man)i got lots of time
round here we're never sent to bed early and nobody makes us wait
round here we stay up very, very, very, very late.
i can't see nothing, nothing round here (oh)
won't you catch me if i'm falling?
won't you catch me if i'm falling?
won't you catch me cuz i'm falling down on you.
see i'm under the gun round here
oh man i said i'm under the gun round here
and i can't see nothing, nothing round here
where no one notices the contrast of white on white.
and in between the moon and you
the angels get a better view
of the crumbling difference between wrong and right.
i walk in the air, between the rain,
through myself and back again
where? i don't know
maria says she's dying,
through the door i hear her crying
why? i don't know
round here we always stand up straight
round here something radiates
maria came from nashville with a suitcase in her hand
she said she'd like to meet a boy who looks like elvis.
and she walks along the edge of where the ocean meets the land
just like she's walking on a wire in the circus.
she parks her car outside of my house and takes her clothes off,
says she's close to understanding Jesus.
she knows she's more than just a little misunderstood,
she has trouble acting normal when she's nervous.
round here we're carving out our names
round here we all look the same
round here we talk just like lions, but we sacrifice like lambs
round here she's slipping through my hands
oohhh sleeping children better run like the wind,
out of the lightning dream
mama's little baby better get herself in
out of the lightning
she says "it's only in my head."
she says "sshhh...i know it's only in my head."
but the girl on the car in the parking lot says:
"man, you should try to take a shot.
can't you see my walls are crumblin?"
then she looks up at the building
says she's thinkin of jumping.
she saysshe's tired of life,
she must be tired of something.
round here she's always on my mind
round here (hey man)i got lots of time
round here we're never sent to bed early and nobody makes us wait
round here we stay up very, very, very, very late.
i can't see nothing, nothing round here (oh)
won't you catch me if i'm falling?
won't you catch me if i'm falling?
won't you catch me cuz i'm falling down on you.
see i'm under the gun round here
oh man i said i'm under the gun round here
and i can't see nothing, nothing round here
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Maybe I'm too jaded to love somebody like you.
A bird flies out and over the rooftops
down past the cars in my line of view.
It's a strange beginning, comic and awkward grace.
In a picture, on the table
I'm in a red dress waiting for a reason
holding a tightly packed suitcase.
Maybe I'm too jaded to love somebody like you.
Maybe I want to love my dream that'll never come true.
Someone who is real, oh, gets in the way
and moves inside my heart, not just my head
interfering with how I want to feel.
How do I want to feel, I wonder?
You could be water to me, I could be wine.
The stars have all faded here
they give us no sign.
Is this the right time?
The smoke curls up and ribbons the air
away from my nervous fingers.
The cigarette sputters, a tired reluctant burn.
In a picture, on the table
you are a driver peering past the moment
holding the wheel until it turns.
Maybe I'm too jaded to love somebody like you.
((Deb Talan - rewriting my life again))
down past the cars in my line of view.
It's a strange beginning, comic and awkward grace.
In a picture, on the table
I'm in a red dress waiting for a reason
holding a tightly packed suitcase.
Maybe I'm too jaded to love somebody like you.
Maybe I want to love my dream that'll never come true.
Someone who is real, oh, gets in the way
and moves inside my heart, not just my head
interfering with how I want to feel.
How do I want to feel, I wonder?
You could be water to me, I could be wine.
The stars have all faded here
they give us no sign.
Is this the right time?
The smoke curls up and ribbons the air
away from my nervous fingers.
The cigarette sputters, a tired reluctant burn.
In a picture, on the table
you are a driver peering past the moment
holding the wheel until it turns.
Maybe I'm too jaded to love somebody like you.
((Deb Talan - rewriting my life again))
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Monday, December 13, 2010
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
she brought this to me today...
and i am forever grateful
from rumi - the book of love
You have said what you are.
I am what I am.
Your actions in my head,
my head here in my hands
with something circling inside.
I have no name
for what circles
so perfectly.
Lightning, your presence
from ground to sky.
No one knows what becomes of me,
when you take me so quickly.
Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing
there is a field. I'll meet you there.
When the soul lies down in that grass,
the world is too full to talk about.
Ideas, language, even the phrase each other,
doesn't make any sense.
I am a glass of wine with dark sediment.
I pour it all in the river.
Love says to me, "Good, but you don't see
your own beauty. I am the wind
that mixes in your fire, who stirs
and brightens, then makes you gutter out."
from rumi - the book of love
You have said what you are.
I am what I am.
Your actions in my head,
my head here in my hands
with something circling inside.
I have no name
for what circles
so perfectly.
Lightning, your presence
from ground to sky.
No one knows what becomes of me,
when you take me so quickly.
Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing
there is a field. I'll meet you there.
When the soul lies down in that grass,
the world is too full to talk about.
Ideas, language, even the phrase each other,
doesn't make any sense.
I am a glass of wine with dark sediment.
I pour it all in the river.
Love says to me, "Good, but you don't see
your own beauty. I am the wind
that mixes in your fire, who stirs
and brightens, then makes you gutter out."
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
all these accidents that happen
follow the dot
coincidence makes sense
only with you
you don't have to speak
i feel
emotional landscapes
they puzzle me
then the riddle gets solved and you push me up to this:
state of emergency
how beautiful to be!
state of emergency
is where i want to be
all that no-one sees
you see
what's inside of me
every nerve that hurts you heal
deep inside of me
you don't have to speak - i feel
emotional landscapes
they puzzle me
confuse
then the riddle gets solved and you push me up to this:
...state of emergency...
...how beautiful to be!...
...state of emergency...
...is where i want to be...
...state of emergency...
...state of emergency...
don't you know that i'll be around to guide you?
Don't you know that I'll be around to guide you
Through your weakest moments to leave them behind you
Returning nightmares only shadows
We'll cast some light and you'll be alright for now
Crosses all over, heavy on your shoulders
The sirens inside you waiting to step forward
Disturbing silence darkens your sight
We'll cast some light and you'll be alright for now
Crosses all over the boulevard
The streets outside your window overflooded
People staring they know you've been broken
Repeatedly reminded by the looks on their faces
Ignore them tonight and you'll be alright
We'll cast some light and you'll be alright
Friday, November 19, 2010
Thursday, November 18, 2010
she comes to me in dreams...
decided to bring her from the dream realm into the waking when my kids were doing watercolor paintings yesterday....
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
tell your story walking...
this is the primary song driving my thesis process at present.
found myself in a dark and stuck place today, and as always, Deb is pulling me out.
found myself in a dark and stuck place today, and as always, Deb is pulling me out.
Saturday, November 13, 2010
i would like you to touch me...
Tantric Lover (anonymous)
The Lover asked: How would you like me to touch you?
And The Lover answered:
I would like you to touch me as if you were going away tomorrow, far far away, and you wanted to remember my body, the texture of my skin, the hills and valleys that make up the landscape of who I am…
I would like you to touch me as if you were blind, knowing that you love me, but unable to see me and communicating this thru your fingertips, your gaze, the warmth and nearness of your breath.
Touch my face, the insides of these arms, this belly, my toes, all of the places you would never think to touch… learn what I feel like, imagine me in your mind as your hands explore my shape.
I would like you to touch me as if your hands were healing hands, radiating love energy with every stroke. Feel the energy penetrating through skin, through flesh, into bone, entering into the cells of my body.
I would like you to touch me as if you gained your nourishment through your hands. Feed on me, drink deeply and draw from your touch the love that I hold for you. I would like you to touch me as if you were feeding me through your hands, as if by your touch I am nourished and sustained.
Every inch of me thirsts for your touch, yearns to be fed. Touch me as if your hand were a feather, lightly caressing the edge of my being; as if your hands were paintbrushes, and as you caress me, you are coloring me in brilliant, sparkling, dazzling hues.
I would like you to touch me as if you could feel my inner self, as if your hands were fire, burning away the dross and leaving only the pure gold of my soul, as if your hands were sponges, soaking up the essence of my being.
I would like you to caress me as if I were made of dry clay, and by dampening my skin you enliven my spirit. I would like you to touch me as if my skin and your skin were were soft velvet creating sparks as only the tips of threads passed in the heat, as if you were a musician, and your touch brought forth different sounds from different parts of me, as if I were a rare jewel, precious and valuable.
I would like you to touch me as if we were lovers...
The Lover asked: How would you like me to touch you?
And The Lover answered:
I would like you to touch me as if you were going away tomorrow, far far away, and you wanted to remember my body, the texture of my skin, the hills and valleys that make up the landscape of who I am…
I would like you to touch me as if you were blind, knowing that you love me, but unable to see me and communicating this thru your fingertips, your gaze, the warmth and nearness of your breath.
Touch my face, the insides of these arms, this belly, my toes, all of the places you would never think to touch… learn what I feel like, imagine me in your mind as your hands explore my shape.
I would like you to touch me as if your hands were healing hands, radiating love energy with every stroke. Feel the energy penetrating through skin, through flesh, into bone, entering into the cells of my body.
I would like you to touch me as if you gained your nourishment through your hands. Feed on me, drink deeply and draw from your touch the love that I hold for you. I would like you to touch me as if you were feeding me through your hands, as if by your touch I am nourished and sustained.
Every inch of me thirsts for your touch, yearns to be fed. Touch me as if your hand were a feather, lightly caressing the edge of my being; as if your hands were paintbrushes, and as you caress me, you are coloring me in brilliant, sparkling, dazzling hues.
I would like you to touch me as if you could feel my inner self, as if your hands were fire, burning away the dross and leaving only the pure gold of my soul, as if your hands were sponges, soaking up the essence of my being.
I would like you to caress me as if I were made of dry clay, and by dampening my skin you enliven my spirit. I would like you to touch me as if my skin and your skin were were soft velvet creating sparks as only the tips of threads passed in the heat, as if you were a musician, and your touch brought forth different sounds from different parts of me, as if I were a rare jewel, precious and valuable.
I would like you to touch me as if we were lovers...
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
like the two opposing wings of a butterfly, the dreamworld is one wing and the awake world is the other wing.
the butterfly must have both wings connected at the heart in order to fly.
the twin world of dreams, like this world, never ceases living, forming as it does a parallel continuum to the waking world.
Although the landscape of dreams may seem different than the landscape of the awake world, it is actually the balanced opposite, reversed version, where our souls live out our bodies' lives reenacted as if in a complex kind of mirror.
the butterfly must have both wings connected at the heart in order to fly.
the twin world of dreams, like this world, never ceases living, forming as it does a parallel continuum to the waking world.
Although the landscape of dreams may seem different than the landscape of the awake world, it is actually the balanced opposite, reversed version, where our souls live out our bodies' lives reenacted as if in a complex kind of mirror.
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