Musings - Ramblings and Notes
A space to pluck my entangled ideas and fleeting thoughts from the chasm of my brain.
Fleeting Ideas, Notes, General Things
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vast hallways, echoing, high walls but always enclosed by ceiling - illusion of freedom? the hum that accompanies harsh silence. the implication that others are nearby but never to be found.
endless borders, safe, confining, exclusionary
decay of old leading to emergence of new… one hopes
endless search for freedom from infinite invisible shackles - the time I have been given is not my own, it never belonged to me.
weight? physical burdens, struggling with cumbersome objects. Too heavy, too long, too wriggly? where do you carry them? imprints in your hands, things clunking into your back, slipping out of your grip.
paint peeling to reveal hidden objects underneath. ye olde landlord special.
nature reclaiming manmade spaces. things that have been lost. the Earth prevails.
old dreams flickering through my mind
overcast skies on the brink of turning over an ashen field. a dark horse creature draped with plant matter that rotted and cascaded like falling dirt as it circled the boundaries of the barren heath. everything in its path blackened and burned.
i dreamed of swordfish skeletons, on a moonlit beach poking out of the sand like vast shipwrecks dotting the place where the land meets the sea.
last night i dreamed of a great fire. ash filled the sky and pigeons lay scattered on the ground in heaps after falling from great heights. as i clambered over them, swarms of bats blotted out the sun seeking refuge in tall towers.
Music
I have long been a musical person but over the last two years I have begun to investigate how this may crossover into my artistic practice. Love finding a new voice through lyric writing. Draw from old folk music. Would like to experiment with sound more to incorporate a gothic/ no wave qualities. Revisiting the old is always important but I feel there must still be room for change/ new things to come forward. Love old/ ghostly folk but feel that my lyrics would be complemented by some heavier sounds and chaos. The songs in their current state do not feel quite finished in representing what I need.
Circular Ruins
Alone, I stand in circular ruins, a shadow in the dead of night. I steal a glimpse of the yellow moon - it is my only light.
Walking the bridge between the worlds, inching toward a deep abyss. Haunted by you my mind unfurls memories of your kiss.
Plagued with visions I lament as I pray upon my kness. My body aches with defilement. Do you see me?
Alone I stand in circular ruins, fading into parts unknown. I crave a glimpse of the yellow moon to bask in its warm glow.
Cold Draft
I lie on the tiles of my kitchen floor and watch the dust. Cobwebs hang from the ceiling, caressing my face while the time ticks away.
Fractals of light cutting through the glass of a cracked window pane, as a cold draft bites my skin.
Cold iron bites my tongue, my mouth fills with blood and I fall silent. Vacant, glassy eyes staring at nothing, flicker and fade.
Fractals of light cutting through the glass of a cracked window pane, as a cold draft bites my skin.
The Raven
The raven flies with eyes of fire, builds a home of bramble and thorn. Drops of blood fall from his beak, a trail lost by dawn.
Shadows cast across the cliff spitting curses to violent seas. The raven’s home (though strong and sharp) at peace will never be.
Thunder and lightning cast him out, he spreads his wings to the raging sky fleeing his fort of solitude. The weary raven cries.
The raven flies with eyes of fire through the wind to groves of yew, searching for an unfamiliar place to start his life anew.
Shrouded
Led by glittering stars above your head, you tip over the edge of the Earth. Wind whistles in your ears as you plummet into open skies.
Shrouded by the cloak of your shadow, you are devoured by the jaws of the night.
Wrought iron gates greet you as you land in the dark pastures of an unknown place. Blinking eyes like lamplights pierce your skin. Flames flicker and die as you draw near.
Crossing the threshold, you’re locked in shackles. Metal rubbing your wrists till you bleed. With every step you take your body crumbles; the ashes float away, riding the wind.
Shrouded by the cloak of your shadow, you are devoured by the jaws of the night.
Shrouded by the cloak of your shadows, you are devoured by the jaws of the night.
Morning Fog
I wandered through the morning fog and found myself in a grave of old. Towers of grey circled around my body as I fell to the ground.
Dead blades of grass whispered to me “shut your weary eyes there’s nought here to see”. Ever so slowly I sank into the Earth as the crumbling old stones watched with eyes of mirth.
The crows all fell silent and flocked to the trees, a cold wind passed through my limp body with ease. Eyes white as milk and skin cold as ice, I lost myself to the black of the night.