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1. |
The Secret of a Crocus
07:45
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The Secret of a Crocus
Many portraits later,
Many pages ago,
She unlocked my riddles,
Hung them on the wall.
Each one was a token,
Imprisoned in her ears,
As she walked away, alone,
To ponder and forgive…
She’s got a twisted mind.
And an upside down heart…
Unleash yourself and try to imagine,
What it would be like without her by your side?
She is the secret of each crocus,
An ancient elixir of youth,
A canvas for you to paint your life
As you dreamt it.
The bitter waters of your wounded oceans,
Pouring down her roots.
This should kill her, but instead
She grows through the ice.
Earnestly unfolds
Each petal of her soul,
And you can only wonder what’s to come.
…To come your way…
(Sweetly Blooming…)
Learn to undermine
The wisdom that you’ve found,
Undress your eyes
From what you think you know.
…My darling friend…
(Ghosts of thinking…)
So many chapters later,
After all the strangers passed you by…
She’s the only one, who’s seen you
Weep like this in years.
Gently she awakened you
From sleeping all alone,
With her unearthly touch, so filled
With memories of you…
How strange!
She’s got a twisted mind,
And an upside down heart…
Unleash yourself and try to imagine,
What it would be like without her by your side?
There is no guarantee,
No promises to give,
But you want your happiness pinned on a corkboard
By the side of your bed…
Remove your gloves,
And embrace the wave with your bare hands.
Only one thing she will never forgive -
Cowardice.
Many portraits later,
Many pages ago,
She unlocked all of my riddles,
And hung them on the wall…
Each one was a token,
A birthmark of a flaw,
She looked passed them all,
And now she turns to you.
…I bet she knows…
Carelessly so,
You’ve handled every truth.
But now it’s time to face your self at last.
…Take off your mask…
(Don’t be afraid, my friend, she loves…)
Never mind the nakedness,
You will become accustomed,
You don’t need those shades anymore.
(Let go of you…)
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2. |
A Strange Encounter
03:58
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3. |
Moving Slowly
06:08
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Moving Slowly
The squeaking door to his soul is closing,
He’s stepping softly,
But she’s awake now,
Watching him escape again
Through curtains leading to the yesterday,
Where she can’t chase him…
Every silence has a reason,
Hiding fears that guard the past
He’s struggling to forget
And break the daunting silence
Filled with old doubts.
Every time he returns in hopes to find her gone,
Thinking:
From his downfalls like every other she must have run.
But here she sleeps in his bed
Hiding grief in her eyes,
As she smiles.
He craves that healing embrace
Of her cold icy hands
As the dawn slowly dies
Into the new day of tomorrow with her.
The squeaking door to his soul is closing,
He’s stepping softly,
He’s back in bed now.
Holding her with care
As if she’s ancient porcelain,
But she won’t break…
This is not the last time,
She knows it well,
He’ll become transparent again and again.
But now he’s asleep as she rustles in the sheets,
Never again will she lose him in the streets…
She’ll be walking
Close behind him,
Moving slowly,
Shifting moments…
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4. |
Melting Birthstones
05:00
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Melting Birthstones
Melting birthstones
Into one of a kind of treasure,
Somewhat mortal,
Just enough for the years to measure…
Not a word could describe…
Here you are – in a body of a man.
She’s a mirror,
And I see, through the years, she faded.
Many eyes dove into her,
Although some evaded…
So unlikely to meet,
But they must – for these trails have crossed before.
Every star spoke before me,
As I gave permission.
They realigned,
Perfect timing!
For the right position…
Here come the spirits of August and May,
Matching the gems,
Counting the days…
Melting birthstones
Into one of a kind of treasure,
Somewhat mortal,
Just enough for the years to measure…
So imperfect and lost,
Just as planned – simple beauty for the ground.
Never let thyself confound –
Human nature is unbound,
Everlasting as it sounds,
Truth
Is decaying in your doubts…
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5. |
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Soul-Mates, Nothing More Than That
Soul-mates,
It’s nothing more than that.
Reading,
All the old letters,
You asked me once,
How impermanence is measured,
I said, it’s measured best by the merest moments…
Yes… Singing… Yours…
Out of the darkness and dust,
Of time past,
As my Manhattan home sleeps,
And dimly remembers so much life.
From the room’s ancient corner,
Through the box of cyberspace
Comes your voice,
Fresh, but already sentient,
A young life
As perennial as the grass…
So, timelessly I seep into your space
Of matte dreaminess,
Shrouded in contemplation…
In the very New York…
What a warm thought…
Yet you don’t know me…
Like the grass,
A young life is constantly redirected by winds,
But this particular one is rather rootless.
It does not possess
The luxury of earthly attachment.
Limbo is home.
Soul-mates,
It’s nothing more than that.
You, my friend, just wrote a song with me.
Reading,
All the old letters…
Soul-mates…
It’s nothing more than that…
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6. |
Tranquil Sea
07:29
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Tranquil Sea
Traitor is the sea,
Tranquil as it seems,
Silently it glimmers,
Luring me away
From shore…
Sea, that is of heart,
Many decades wide,
How dare I have a single doubt
Of such wisdom…
Bottomless…
Rains, who’ve seen the world
Return to sea
And ring of truth,
Insisting with an ancient silver echo.
With my pockets emptied out,
I stand upon my roof,
I long for answers,
Please…
Shore, that is of mind,
Counting every wave,
Strikingly awake,
Dying to define
And quantify…
Prophecy, it’s not,
Maybe even blind,
Trying to predict,
Make the fairest choice,
Sincerely…
Walking by myself,
All along my shores
You have been enfolded
And absorbed
So thoroughly…
How could I even try
To bury you inside?
It’s simply not my style,
But thank you and goodbye…
Is it a mirage?
Merely heat on sand?
No! You stand before me,
Jeopardized,
But clothed.
Though, you’re rather silent… I must say!
Where is your confession now?
So proudly,
You declared your devotion
Right before
The sun has set beneath the ocean…
Pull me by the sleeve,
Bind me with a ring,
Yet the waters of the heart
Simply rush
Through the gold…
…They rush through the gold…
…They rush through the gold…
- He made up his mind…
- So he thinks!
- Memory it is…
- Only shadows…
- Now the evening sun…
- …Lethargic and content!
- Through the crinkled curtains…
- …That sway in disapproval!
…Seeps through the heart…
- Where my hope and temptation are silenced…
- Don’t ever question…
- Will he ever return?
- Don’t ever question…
- Can I give even more of?
- Don’t ever question…
- My heart…
- Don’t ever question…
- My heart…
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7. |
Opaque Voices
06:15
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Opaque Voices
Is she wise to remain perfectly untouched by time?
To disguise all the youth, stirring in her past, unloved?
She just wanted to escape
The appropriate lines that were drawn all around,
Stigma has a say,
She’s not a friend,
But who will ever tell…
Is she wise to denude all the sweet, forgotten wounds?
When the sun settles in for a story in a hammock of
Warm lulling dust,
Dimming the mind…
Turbid thoughts hustle in,
Anxious to undress,
Spend the night,
They all sing – she should leap, never to regret the fall.
Falls are funny things, in fact,
One can call it a flight,
Simply headed to earth…
She will not forget the life she breathed upon refusing rules…
So is she wise to deny the advice that reeks of norm?
Many voices, opaque, all convincing her loudly, but she’s
Still…
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8. |
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9. |
Emotionally Orchid
07:42
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Emotionally Orchid
Peeling away the dingy wallpaper,
I stare right into the concrete
Of myself
In utter denial…
Surrounded by
Emotionally orchid
Old
Children
Made of play-dough.
No proof of my sanity
Is apparent at the moment,
Yet I witness much profanity,
As angry little people voice defensive comments.
In a state of contemplative panic I reside,
Few of those who tried to help have long ago resigned,
I raise my glass to lonely nights and lovers at a distance,
Once everyone has left this room,
I stand so squalid…
I intend to be demure,
While at heart a Cynosure…
Strung to guide I feel misguided,
Even though my star ignited…
Then I heard Mother said,
She was worried about me.
Said, it would all heal…
All that I’ve got to do,
Is to walk as me, until I’m no longer here.
What did she mean by that?
Is this some kind of cruel joke?
When something’s dying all around…
How could I ever let go?
Oh I see…
I have been demoted yet again,
For such small digits,
And such pretty hair…
Clearly I must have not lived,
I have no marks on my face!
Not nearly contagious enough disease of thinking,
Criminally simplified
For the perpetually capricious
Humankind.
Such emotionally orchid,
Yet adulterated children,
Shaking their trite little fingers,
Why do they claim the Bible that they didn’t write!
I could never understand this certainty of knowledge,
One that sells in malls with pricy tags, as labeled “College”,
Whatever happened to the simple use of intuition?
When will you graduate yourself some common sense, dear?
Someone’s troubles to endure,
Sacrifice myself as cure.
Only now an empty vessel
Gulps for contents in a hassle…
Then I heard Mother said,
She was worried about me.
Said, it would all heal…
All that I’ve got to do,
Is to walk until I’m no longer here.
What did she mean by that?
Is this some kind of cruel joke?
When something’s dying all around…
How could I ever let go?
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Aryadna Boston, Massachusetts
Multi-instrumentalist, vocalist, songwriter.
Perplexing jazz art songs and introspective self-love grooves.
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