1. |
VOICES
04:40
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I'm hearing voices.
What can we do with voices?
What corporeal purpose do they have now?
We know flesh is useful
We can make instruments from it's skin
Make needles from bones for stitching
And use guts for the strings.
What was I saying?
Voices are harder to handle,
They escape us,
Bounce of surfaces,
Play par core with the environment,
Get caught in the air
And dragged else where
To places they were never meant to go
They join together like Lego.
Making constructs that don't even have working windows.
Anthropecenic voices cause extreme weather.
Even Anthropocenic breath erodes the rocks in these parts
And strips the mountain sides of heather.
Too many of these voices
And pollinators decline
To comment,
Trees lose free speech
And the birds
Fall Silent.
Voices are used like stepping stones,
Which turn into bridges and then walls,
With layers of compressed ideas
Which can accidentally
Even divide Loved Ones.
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2. |
FARMGATE
03:30
|
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|
Open the gate.
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3. |
RUSH
05:11
|
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|
Make hay
|
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4. |
LIGHTNING CONDUCTOR
05:14
|
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|
Oh Marie
You carry me
Over the rocks
To the sea.
Oh Marie
You carry me
And my longing
To belong.
Oh Marie
You carry me
Over the rocks
To the sea.
Oh Marie
Would you marry me
To this Old
Furrowed Land?
Oh Marie
Will you carry me
Over the rocks
To the sea?
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5. |
TAR
03:50
|
|||
|
Look at the poor old conifer tree,
Unable to shed a leaf.
Deciduous days
With evergreen sorrows,
Happenings which beggar belief.
Tar (lilted)
What a beleaguered human being
A foot in both domains
Wading between
Received and unseen
From our haphazard remains.
Tar (lilted)
I'll build myself a paramour
And a suit of armour.
From words and dung
With grass and song
And live happily ever after.
Tar (lilted)
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6. |
PINE
03:17
|
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|
Do you know
Will you sink or swim
Float or Fly?
Will you keep the fight
Or surrender?
Do you know
Will you be glad to go,
Or have regret,
Will you remember,
Or will you forget?
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7. |
BEARA
04:33
|
|||
|
. . .
|
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8. |
TINE
03:33
|
|||
|
Tine (an Irish word for 'Fire')
|
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9. |
LAMPLIGHTING
03:50
|
|||
|
At night the flashlight.
Looming, Gloaming,
Sweeping, scouring,
Shuddering over the vale.
The farmer lamplighting a fox.
It really is unfair
And so common.
I knew someone who was lamplit for years
And totally unaware.
Nobody noticed either,
That she was being undermined.
They couldn't see a snare of cruel filters,
Barbed comments,
Restrictions and barriers
Wound around her young mind.
The weaponry was homespun.
Improvised devices.
Guilt, flattery, confusion.
Simple homemade recipes.
It took a long time to tunnel her way out.
The perpetrator often doesn't know what they're doing.
So they say.
All we needed was a word for it.
Now I am witness to some lamplighting across the way.
Ripping up the thick pelt of night.
Should I intervene?
I'm afraid.
Should I let it continue?
Of course I will pray.
She might find a way out.
Tell me, what would you do?
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10. |
EDDY
04:20
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see: The Song of Amergin, by Amhairghin Glúnmar, Chief Ollam of Ireland.
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