1. |
Thunderbirds
06:51
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Once upon a time, a girl could turn into a bird,
All she'd need is sage and fenugreek,
An empty head, and welcome bed,
ready to grow wings and find a song to sing.
Eagles, crows, and hummingbirds,
woodpeckers, and snow owls
appeared to her,
giving a glimpse
into their midst
and medicine:
Though storms may come
and predators wait,
through feather fray and weather change,
we fly each day and know the way
to a warmer place.
Climb with us to see the green.
Trees are stairways for the wingless
to escape the dusty trails below.
Bring back word
to those beneath the canopy
that there is hope,
and hope in times of hopelessness
is nothing less than defiance
and dreams.
Eagles dive to earth when they find their mate,
and they tumble to love and create.
Woodpeckers drum the beat of impending doom
and provide the rhythm to escape.
Owls are faithful to death when they know
they've found the best.
All that a hummingbird believes
is red, and you better believe she'll get it.
Thunderbirds,
lightning wings,
hope is defiance,
so we sing.
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2. |
Bogwitch
04:24
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Wanna take you down to these old, dark places,
sticky and sweet with dew.
All the places you've forgotten,
they remember you.
Do we only love when we see ourselves
or something we'd like to be?
If God created us in his own image,
his image is actually me, sayin':
"Don't stray too far from the trees.
"In open meadows, predators see--
"flying in clouds, lurking in grass,
"whispering, 'This day may be your last.'"
Wanna take you down to these old, dark places,
sticky and sweet with dew.
Wanna take you down to our hiding places;
they remember you.
Exploring the veil between waking and sleep,
what are you saying to me?
My being, weeping deeply,
here beneath the oldest tree.
My limbs uncurl, my eyes rise up,
all the leaves have come undone.
My voice tunes in to skeleton keys,
and this pours out my lungs:
"Wanna take you down to these old, dark places,
"sticky and sweet with dew.
Gonna lay you down in these sacred spaces
here in the great bayou."
I am now a woman all brown,
cloak covering my head,
fallen logs my organ pipes,
playing tones to wake the dead, singin':
"Dig in. Deeper-- to another layer.
Feel my body sway.
Lay beside me. Listen to me closely:
all good things decay."
Baby, we'll be dirty,
but we're happy,
and we'll never go home.
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3. |
Nightshades & Amanitas
07:12
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Though her charms disarm,
her creed is “do no harm”.
Don’t sound the alarm;
she works with mystery and calm.
She’s more a silkscreen than smoke and mirrors,
dealing in Nightshades and Amanitas.
Cell for cell, a pact is made,
body for body, blood for blade,
placed under pillows, sealed with a kiss,
and after dark, compost the evidence.
Most of life spent underground,
undisturbed by what’s allowed--
glowing, growing outstretched,
single fibers, silken threads,
waiting for the rains ahead
to push through sand and spread.
Wings and spores,
spots and lights,
yellow beacons of the pines,
tadpoles, acorns, and fireflies--
the world revolves around double lives.
Building a masterpiece in her mind,
transforming bricks into sweet red wine,
giving a space for the poison to seed--
one man’s flower is this woman’s weed of endless sleep.
White as a maiden,
sharp as a knife,
tempted by her beauty
she’ll strike as lightning.
By seed and spore,
unfettered spread,
growing a future where hunters become hunted.
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Edenspore Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
A multifaceted business encompassing the creative and earth-worshipping works of Robyn Mello. Music. Edible ecosystem design. Workshops. Herbal products. Jewelry. Deep dreaming. Growth. Bigger than the sum of its parts. Please listen to the music here, visit her social media and website, and interact! She wants to play, teach, listen, and learn with you! ... more
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