Thursday, September 29, 2011

Jackal-Live Recording

Howdy Folks,

Finally have the live recording to the Torrance Art Museum performance piece we did on July 3, 2010 called "Jackal".  Track produced by Roman æon and vocals by DBL.  Feel free to download, share, comment, or ignore.


jackal at tam by DBRP

Tuesday, September 27, 2011

Tuesday Night Post # 25

Today's post is a exercise of sorts. 


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Black Sky Ruin
Tongue Us Ankle
Soiled Rich Burn
Sole His Breast
Decay Energy Broken
Skull We Toe
Wither Tall War
Nose She Clavical
Ugly Circles Severed
Tooth His Nape

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Tuesday Night Post #24

A short one.

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Moving in speeds that thoughts cant produce
Fleeing clarity is all my mind allows
Any more awake and I'll begin to sink
No time to question the linear clouds
A heavy feeling is just a hint
An amber left over from a forgotten spark
Now left to irritate a body in waking death
I have these four rear mounted frames of thought
A perfect box to house my fears, which sits on my chest
All's for sure and never abandoned
Thoughts and beliefs gently handed
Severed away from the rest
A violent action left as a testament
For one that’s not part of this encampment
Moving forward is a direction
Seeming as though it is just a reflection
No movement is what we want
So Ones can tear apart
The lovely thing we adore
Which at this time we cannot ignore 
The grander things that guides my devolution

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Tuesday Night Post #23

Tuesday night, hope your night is well.  For the few that stumble onto this let me know your thoughts if you are not to shy.  In any case I welcome your eyesMay we welcome what deserves attention but seems full of madness and let us reject what needs culling, these things that look so alluring.  Making perfect squares that have no corners let us make love to that part that is reason and make friends with what is intuition.  Intuition so often seen as wild at heart.  Yes, maybe but, the most wild beast have control and finesse.  Have you seen a bull in a china shop?

*     *     *     *     *
Spit and Thorns
(Stories of the Two)

With an excuse was my choice
To give u my voice
With a coffee in hand
I tried to make u my friend
In time I could not fight
The feeling that felt so right
In your presence I rode on your smile
In the abscess grew a child
A self-refection of the loves I formed
In hopes one would be adored

I made my love, a juvenile lust
Formed from dirt and rust
Now she’s old and grey
I hope she’ll stay

Always the angel rite
You kept your distance tight
I tried to spread your hand
Putting mine in the red
True you were never near
Enough to let this thought appear
I feed my love with simple hellos
Inviting all the woes

I made my love, the one with horns
Formed from spit and thorns
Now she’s old and frayed
I hope she’ll pray

A chance occurrence
Tested our endurance
As I sat in that room
I soon realized the electric cloud that loomed
An awaking that told me
You also wanted to hold me
Always the dark angel
Loving to endure
You made sure every second counted
Until you yourself could not doubt it

I made my love, the one so sweet
Formed from cold and heat
Now she’s pleasure and pain
I hope she’ll lose her distain

I stand on a log
Rolling, I on a jog
Holding something small in one hand
Something heavy in the other my head pouring like sand
She rides on my shoulders my lover lost
In the dreams, this was the cost
A fireball
Surged through me from the fall
Heaven sent to aid my rule
The self inside this mule

I made my love, the one I lost
Formed from our different parts
Now she is he and she
I hope she’ll become the three

In extremes we found
That love is profound
She left me light
Which emptied blight
Left me with knowledge that in that flash
Vivid and bright left a pile of ash
With two extremes
We find the beauty in between

I made my love, from a lifetime of loneliness
Formed from profanity and holiness
Now she’s horrid beauty
I hope she’s found a residence in human’s cruelty

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

Tuesday Night Post #22

Vessels of Atrophy,

For once I am late.  On top of that this one I much enjoyed and just grew and grew.  I know it could be expanded but this Tuesday post exists not to be perfect but to create.    I much enjoy the "Stories of the Two" posts.  I hope you do too.


p.s. still in search of a trusty editer

*     *     *     *     * 

The Exchange
(Stories of the Two)
In their world to eat is to drink from the river
That flows from one to the other
Two magnets in an ocean afloat
On waters of growth and desire
Separated by strong currents
Violently drawn together by inner forces
Chaotic storms of light and shadow
Every encounter they find new corners in their minds
Old memories to guide this chance occurrence
Glimpses of One that existed once before
 Separated long ago
Their thoughts find a home in one another
Never straying too far
Two stars so close no thought can escape
Flairs ripping the skies
Falling with time to replicate

This is the exchange
Like heat flows to cool
His darkness empties into her
Pushing light directed to a void that is him

A strange feeling to her this want to hate
To mistrust
To crave destruction and revenge
A bitterness that sweeps the surface of her form
A form new and hungry for the unfamiliar
That bitterness that frees the earthly law of atrophy
To want to hoard in fear of time and its brevity
Positioning the self in hopes of ending on top
To respond with reaction
To see with her body

For him it is strange to see that in natural law
A release of evil can create brilliance
Clearing the clouds that fog the eye
Giving love without the fear of being destroyed
He sees the end as a cycle of this love
Not destruction
He finds strangeness in acting
Not as a reaction but as a direction
To care not because it affects him but because
It is what makes the cycle continue

To visualize this exchange one mustn’t see how
They engage

The way he looks from her eyes to her lips
To see the words leaving her mouth
Only to get lost in the loveliness of it
No this is not where it is
Or the way she catches this act
Which draws her closer
One mustn’t think its there
When they walk the streets
As she wraps her arms around one of his
Trying to absorb what she can from it
Contrary to what we know this is not it
Not even when he stops to gaze
At that brilliance he wants to understand
As she presses one hand on his chest
To see if it can penetrate his form
As he swiftly positions himself
To take from the fountain
That is her welcoming mouth

Delving deeper
It could be easy to say the exchange
Comes when they lay bare and intimate
As they rest from the day
Him slowly
Tracing every curve of her figure
A delicate finger
Over her back
Down her spine
Round her hips
In between the thighs
To her newly soiled feet
Up to her breast
A tender moment is spent here
An occasion for her to retrace the steps
To formulate the figure outside
Basking in the sensation
One of the few sensations that is purely pleasure
In this vessel type

A raw minded kind
Would place their bets on the exchange
That follows
A literal exchange
A visceral sight that we rely on to find a middle
Between the two
There is no separation
Here either
It is not the action of her holding him close
Past this moment
Contemplation the next motion 
Looking deep past the windows for a sign of consent
Holding him as she slides him inside
Turning inside out he finds
He is captured and released
The moments when they find
It difficult to locate their end or want to
This is not the exchange that is profound

A glimpse of it is there
The relinquishing of the self
In pleasure they leave marks in other circumstances
Would reflect devastation
The exchange of their body’s
The leaving of something of one another
Inside of each other
Moving as one
Motion that switches 
The leader soon
Becomes the follower
Symbols of it yes
A complexity of the dance
Gently brushed upon by these words
Exploring this exchange
Is the Story of the Two