I wrote this super-fast on the occasion of the super-moon

Sometimes a title says it all.

This is: I wrote this super-fast on the occasion of the super-moon

“Moon of my Delight”.

An age recorded soundbite.

I echo out from time to time.

Listening for any sign.

From way out… there.

Nothing comes by or care.  

That satellite line: “Moon of my Delight”.

Then in the woods last night,

As night was closing,

The sea was dozing,

Riding on a frosty leaf did fly,

A beautiful whisper in reply.  

Like an astronomer first hearing a message from static light-years.

Stumbling, unable to comprehend what suddenly clears.  

“Moon of my Delight”

Goddess from starlight

Tore forward the infinite sky

On a golden chariot from high

Called “Gloria!”

And the breeze it swept chorused “Gloria!”  

Crescent wings in long, moondril hair

Bodice made of moon white bone

Luna and Juno nestled in bustier

She lashed at the two galloping, silver steeds

Rearing their heads, crazed eyes, manes wild as trauma

Foaming constellations from their bridles

They skid a scorch across my view, to a crystalline halt

Weaving forth a wave of space colour behind

Splashing great fans of painted lurid vibrancy

Crashing behind the vision above me

Like rough waves crashing against shore breaks

She: on awesome acid sprayed canvas

Above me, on my back.

Rhymes no longer mattered.  

Wide eyed, I looked up.

She drew death gilded leaves around me.

If you keep loading the gun, friend, you can’t keep blaming the bullets

This Greville and the Tombstones track could mean something different to everyone. What the stars might represent, what the rain actually is. Even the title is has deliberate purpose.

The track's symbolism certainly has a narrative for me, personally - a code, that I can relate to. My hope is that it can do similar for other readers. For that reason I like it and I think it is special, if a slight piece.

I hope you enjoy it.

This is:

If you keep loading the gun, friend, you can’t keep blaming the bullets

My eyes are hollowed out by a thousand sunsets

On a hundred wars

My eyes can see there are no stars in the night’s sky.

They have all been shot down over this cityscape.

Fallen lifeless on the ground.

Or strangled and thrown into pitch dark waters.  

So how come no one else notices?  

Young eyes, fresh eyes, clever eyes:

Don’t see what I see.  

You took my closed eyes and You opened them wide

To a hundred visions

I was not ever blind: the rain was blacker than night.

I saw What Haunts Me drown under the rainstorm.

Fallen lifeless on the ground.

And people talked to its glistening corpse, blind.  

So how come no one else notices?  

Is it not perfect now, how it is?

How you see things?

I see the black rain, lashing onto hard pavements

from a hundred eyes

I see sneers and the blind are blindly following on.

I see people kidding themselves they have not

fallen lifeless on the ground.

Eyes fixed on motion of others’ fragile balance.  

So how come no one else notices?

 

Perfection, eyes wide, lying here.

Seeing like I imagined.

Call me mad: a photograph by Jeanie Laub

I am delighted to share this photograph with adorers of the Band.

Artist, and friend, Jeanie Laub - someone I admire very much for her work which is often haunting and (something which captivates me) always projects an intense image of the thought processing behind the eyes in her subjects - photographed one of my works.

It is a beautiful photograph. It is one which captures aspects that resonate with me: not just about the words in it, but also of deeper aspects of my work as a whole. I feel very connected to it.

Image courtesy of Jeanie Laub, 2016

Please do seek out Jeanie's exhibitions whenever you are able.

Hymn für die Kirche der Krähen

My friend, the wonderful @tellthee has translated my Hymn For The Church of Crows into the better German. 
I hope people enjoy it as much as I do thinking of it being sung in gorgeous church spaces.