1. |
Lost in the Woods
01:46
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I found
myself alone,
lost in the woods with no place to go.
Surrounded
by the unknown,
lost in the woods with no way home.
Symmetrical, right-angled and bright green.
So sanitized that even the dirt is clean.
Don’t be confused. It’s so easy to lose more than just your way.
It’s a maze of amazing sickness called array.
I found
myself alone,
lost in the woods with no place to go.
Surrounded
by the unknown,
lost in the woods with no way home.
No way home.
No way home.
No way home.
Lost in the woods with no way home.
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2. |
You Are Here
03:26
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I look around for a map, spying one across the way on the corner of an intersection. Upon reaching it, I forget about my cause for a second to admire the scuff marks, etchings, and partially torn-off stickers that adorn its frame. Remembering myself, I scan over the street names until I spot an awkwardly overlaid blot representing my position. “You are here,” is all it said.
And the blot certainly did not lie. I was in fact there (here?) on the corner of Inter and Section, standing perplexed in front of the map, which not only assured me of where I was, but also informed me of all the places I could go. Overwhelmed, I looked feverishly for the blot once more. “You are here.” The words offered comfort now.
“You are here.” The phrase echoes around in my head. To be here is to not be anywhere else. Everywhere you’ve been has led to where you are now, and anywhere you could go relies on what you do here, now. “Here” feels both infinite and finite, like a continuous stream that waits, but never asks for your participation.
Now this “here” is over.
I find myself not where I was.
I find I stay more than I go.
Ugh, those pleasures.
I find myself not where I was.
I find I stay more than I go.
I keep seeing the same four corners of this block. I get easily mixed up.
I keep seeing the same four corners of this block. I get easily mixed up.
Losing track of direction puts me right back where I started.
Losing track of perfection shouldn’t stop my movement forward.
I keep seeing the same four corners of this block. I get easily mixed up.
I keep seeing the same four corners of this block. I get easily mixed up.
I find myself not where I was.
I find I stay more than I go.
Now “later” is here.
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3. |
Gears
04:46
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A buzz and a beep
interrupting my sleep.
Familiar whirling.
Familiar vibrating
Scraping at my teeth—so fuzzy!
A flip of the switch
to get my fix.
Familiar caffeine.
Familiar nicotine.
Shoveling down
your ice box to your heat box to your gut.
Warmer.
Turn it up.
This blanket of mine isn’t electric enough.
Colder.
Turn it up.
This air around me isn’t conditioned enough.
Unlike my brain,
conditioned to reach for the slightest buzz, beep, or ring.
Anxiety sets in when I almost
break my things.
Machine in the routine.
Machine in the routine.
Routine.
Machine.
Routine.
Walking.
Automate.
The best new shoes will step me
from place to place.
I’ll digitize my essence.
Silicon fingers and copper strings.
Send out the tin man
for my experiencing
self.
Automate.
That old food will be pre-chewed
and lectures, a pill to take.
Machine in the routine.
Machine in the routine.
A buzz and a beep
infecting the air.
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4. |
Bam!
05:43
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Between reason and
nonsense there
resides a ravine.
Banter and bellows,
obnoxious,
diluted and fooled.
Chasing, craving, shaping their lens
of what seems to be.
Does all fit carefully
or do we
just see what we see?
The order of nature.
The nature of order.
Cacophony and euphony:
a harmonious pair.
One can’t escape the
loop looping—
Exploding from nothing
and then it began,
a process we still don’t understand
or command.
Rational chaos and nonsensical order.
All fits carefully,
always changing,
remaining and breaking,
sustaining and quaking.
Up and away we go now,
falling around the sky.
We’re dizzied by the cyclone
jumbling our minds.
Losing all sense of reason,
parting with the absurd,
flailing until we grasp the Earth.
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5. |
Inch Worm Meditation
03:26
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Am I an inch worm?
Always taking my time,
unlike them furry counterparts
always changing their design,
but that’s on them.
A creature of patience
with seldom a problem.
Nothing in mind,
one inch at a time.
Cruising, moving slowly
not worried at all.
In solitude there’s no chance to be rude.
On the side walk,
in the raindrops,
hope it won’t stop
and ruin the mood.
I won’t be in a cocoon
anytime soon.
Am I an inch worm just creeping along?
Am I an inch worm just creeping along?
Am I an inch worm just creeping along?
Am I an inch worm just creeping along?
Am I an inch worm?
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6. |
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I up and ran away (ran away)
from the cage to the grave.
(I feel so betrayed,)
so enslaved,
(so enraged).
Get (why) out (me) the (to-) way. (day?)
(I was going ‘bout my day) my day
(at the café. All was the same).
I think I’ve been played
(been delayed,)
been insane.
I remember the clearest place with…
We are gathered here today to mourn the loss of a titan.
So big and so tall,
he will be remembered by us all.
Elephant-ephant-ephant-ephant-ephant-ephant-ephant.
Elephant-ephant-ephant-ephant-ephant-ephant-phant-phant-phant.
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7. |
Sunskin
07:58
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I don’t wanna get a tan.
Peeling like a lizard,
painted red (red),
crimson (red) red (red).
I’m not against going outside.
It’s fun, bright, and warm, and besides
that Vitamin D is nice.
You know,
it doesn’t taste like oranges though
(red) oranges.
Just sun.
(red) sun.
But oversaturation of the ultra-violent ray beams starts to take a toll and then I’ll have some constellation to remind me.
(The sand, and the wind, and the waves, and Sun.)
Got my bucket in my hands.
Gonna shape the sand.
A tower here and maybe a moat.
It’ll be better than most.
Wind swirling hair in my face,
blowing umbrellas away.
Look up and then I run toward
the waves racing back and forth.
I’m the only fish in the ocean;
the others are beached with their lotion.
Sun shining on my back:
the friendliest attack.
It’s the art of lying still.
Browning like potatoes,
sort of crisp. (crispy lizard)
Why would I spend all my time
making my skin so leathery?
(so leathery red)
Won’t ask again. Don’t bother me.
So leathery.
Don’t bother me.
Do not bother me with your leathery skin.
Do not bother me with your leathery skin.
Do not bother me with your leathery skin.
Do not bother me with your leathery skin.
Hahahahahaha.
Ha. Hahaha. Ha. Ha.
Haha. HA. Haha. HA. Haha. HA.
Hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha.
My momma said
to always be a good boy (a good boy)
and to never play with guns (guns).
Too late!
Oh well.
Yo momma, she said,
She said, she said, she said….
She said “What?!” (What?!)
Whatchyo momma say,
she said, she said, she said….
She said, “I’m busy!” (what?!)
“I’m busy.
Get out of my sun.
I need my Vitamin D.”
I read about a solar-powered lizard on the rocks.
Scurry.
I read about a solar-powered lizard on the rocks.
I thought how odd it is to be still to be crisp to impress.
Scurry.
I read about a solar-powered lizard on the rocks.
I thought how odd it is to be still to be crisp to impress.
Not for the lizard, just for us, it’s surely about time to get up
SCURRY!
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8. |
Prick
03:22
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Whoa!
Waiting in the longest line,
the biggest thorn in my side.
Wait a second, that can’t be true.
I’ve got so many things to live up to.
Stub your toe.
Trip up the stairs.
Sit like a dog.
It’s the little things that seem to break through.
Squeeze
out
the peeves.
Breathe
in
relief.
Suck it up. Suck it in. Soak it up.
Soak it up. Suck it in. Suck it up.
Whoa.
Whoa!
WHOA!
It’s the gum stuck to your shoe that just won’t go away.
It’s the hole in your lip that just won’t go away.
It’s the voices in your head that just won’t go away.
Don’t go away. I’m not insane, just mildly on edge.
Wait in line.
Work a job.
Jump in time.
It’s the little things that seem to break through.
Squeeze
out
the peeves.
Breathe
in
relief.
Suck it up. Suck it in. Soak it up.
Soak it up. Suck it in. Suck it up.
Please hold onto your hats.
Please hold onto your head.
Please hold on to your ass.
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9. |
Weightlifting
04:30
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Discipline. Strugglin’.
Strugglin’ with discipline.
They said show up every day,
do the work every day,
and look on the bright side every day.
Every day.
They said imagine placing a brick down
as if to build a house.
You try to do it all at once,
but you can’t;
you’ll just burn out.
One by one by one day after day,
heavier yet the weight don’t change.
And iIf your bricks’re mislaid, you still
get better at cementing them into place.
They told me how to build the foundation.
as they burned the blueprint,
so now, I guess I’m shit out of luck.
What am I ‘sposed to do again?
I’ve been tripping over bricks in the dark,
the house keeps falling apart,
trying to build their intention.
And then,
right before the fall,
the bricks stacked unevenly
with gaps in between,
not tall or long at all.
I guess
you could call it a wall.
It took roughly a week
of blisters and pleads
to grasp what they meant all along.
The clay weights crumbled down
into a pile of trial and “I know now.”
Restless, calloused hands reached for a weight.
Felt lighter than yesterday.
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10. |
MGH
02:55
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Balanced on a point of equilibrium:
An invisible emptiness, an unseen vitality.
The amount of rush I am not in
during this fierce game against
the conditions of time.
Falling swiftly into stagnation,
petrified by progress,
I veer into various states of disarray,
until
the realization of my damnation by stagnation.
Inspired,
sparks at my fingertips,
I am dying to be caught ablaze.
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11. |
This and That
11:30
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Do the trees have needles or leaves?
Was that Anne’s Lace or Water Hemlock we raised?
Will that star fading beyond this clearing be back?
I swear this place was greener.
Birds used to sing, now barely whisper a melody,
and the wind just drones on instead of humming its harmony.
Noise must have gone.
Lift up the pale, and I’m off to the stream.
The trickling water doesn’t feel cold to me.
And though it rained, the air still smells stained.
Our flowers bring beetles instead of bees,
and the saplings just stare joylessly.
Suddenly wood’s burning, and smoke’s on the hunt.
I flee, but smoke fades to smog easily.
Your hazy visage is stalking me.
Death weighs like
sand sneaking
into your pockets
while you’re at sea:
before you know it,
you’ve been pulled under,
still unaware
you’re drowning.
Dying
is the easy part.
Who cares about the petals?
Who cares about words?
Who cares about harmony?
Who cares.
Sunday: back to the garden.
The beds have grown buds of yellow and
pink, which fill the air with such
sweet scents that will our Lace to bloom.
On the way to the stream,
a fallen bird seizes all my senses:
resting tranquilly on its side, embraced by
twigs and leaves, journeying,
other birds still sing.
For white feathers, I weave our petals
then all the green returns.
I throw a match in the pit.
The smoke smells of comfort again.
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12. |
Just a Bug
01:19
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Hey,
I’ve seen you around before
looking so slick.
I meant no offense.
Get some sense
on your shoulders.
I know you like to talk real big.
Exoskeleton.
You’re just a bug,
an irrelevant itch.
If
you wanna be a hella swell guy,
start biting your lip.
‘Cause there’s no sense
when the consequence
is immense.
Still,
you’re pushing for nothing good.
So now I’m out.
I know that you got your problems.
It’s not really my place to solve them
So why you gotta be
all up on me?
On me.
In my face.
Must be love.
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Wallace San Jose, California
A couple a kids outta San Jose tryna make something a little strange.
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