tidying up

[[ This pervy fellow is obsessed with razing civilization. ]]

this place would look better

burned to the ground

I love the sound of 

a crackling fire

this place would look better

blown to the sky

Can't tell you why I 

love bricks in the air

all this place needs is

a fuse and a match

pssst goes the secret fire 

stand back and watch

maybe a time bomb

some sticks and a clock

wait for the sound while I'm 

stroking my cock

this place would look better

strewn in the street

under my feet the 

hard crunching of glass

this place would look better

all washed away

into the bay when 

I blow up the dam

oh, damn

oh, damn

all this place needs is

a fuse and a match

pssst goes the secret fire 

stand back and watch

maybe a time bomb

some sticks and a clock

wait for the sound while I'm 

stroking my cock

accusing moon

[[ this one's done - minimalist portrait of Greta Thunberg  ]] 

listen to her

it's almost midnight

under an accusing moon

there is no ask

there is no tell

we push through 

we push right through your hell

am I alarming?

our house is on fire 

am I alarmed?

I am the fire alarm

listen to her

it's almost midnight

under an accusing moon

= = = = =

done

= = = = =

[[ 

almost midnight = like the doomsday clock

toll / tolled / untold

bell 

tell  [[ a/the tell ]]

noun

noun: tell; plural noun: tells

1. (especially in poker) an unconscious action that is thought to betray an attempted deception.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tell_(poker)

A tell in poker is a change in a player's behavior or demeanor that is claimed by some to give clues to that player's assessment of their hand. A player gains an advantage if they observe and understand the meaning of another player's tell, particularly if the tell is unconscious and reliable. Sometimes a player may fake a tell, hoping to induce their opponents to make poor judgments in response to the false tell. More often, people try to avoid giving out a tell, by maintaining a poker face regardless of how strong or weak their hand is.

[[ in terms of her straight face? there will be no tell? 

there is no asking

there is no tell

we push through without you

]] 

]]

[[ 

Greta Thunberg 

https://heavy.com/news/2018/12/greta-thunberg/

https://www.theguardian.com/environment/2019/jan/25/our-house-is-on-fire-greta-thunberg16-urges-leaders-to-act-on-climate

”So we have not come here to beg the world leaders to care for our future. They have ignored us in the past and they will ignore us again. We have come here to let them know that change is coming whether they like it or not.”

"Our house is on fire. I am here to say, our house is on fire."

capture her

• face - wide, round, pale, unsmiling, an accusing moon
• single-mindedness - she could be singing and dancing like her little sister, but she drops everything in her schoolgirl life to fix the world
• bravery - faces up to world leaders without blinking (literally?)

We are not begging -- We do not beg

We are done asking -- We do not ask

We are done

We are pushing through

Look at this pearl

Greta = short version of Margarethe = "pearl" - her wide round pale face?

tell (plural tells)

1. A reflexive, often habitual behavior, especially one occurring in a context that often features attempts at deception by persons under psychological stress (such as a poker game or police interrogation), that reveals information that the person exhibiting the behavior is attempting to withhold.

2. (archaic) That which is told; a tale or account. quotations ▼

3. (Internet) A private message to an individual in a chat room; a whisper.

]]

related 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Malala_Yousafzai

Malala Yousafzai (Urdu: ملالہ یوسفزئی‎; Pashto: ملاله یوسفزۍ‎ [məˈlaːlə jusəf ˈzəj];[2] born 12 July 1997),[2][3] also known mononymously as Malala, is a Pakistani activist for female education and the youngest Nobel Prize laureate.[4] She is known for human rights advocacy, especially the education of women and children in her native Swat Valley in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, northwest Pakistan, where the local Taliban had at times banned girls from attending school. Her advocacy has grown into an international movement, and according to former Pakistani Prime Minister Shahid Khaqan Abbasi, she has become "the most prominent citizen" of the country.[5]

[snip]

On 9 October 2012, while on a bus in the Swat District, after taking an exam, Yousafzai and two other girls were shot by a Taliban gunman in an assassination attempt in retaliation for her activism; the gunman fled the scene. Yousafzai was hit in the head with a bullet and remained unconscious and in critical condition at the Rawalpindi Institute of Cardiology, but her condition later improved enough for her to be transferred to the Queen Elizabeth Hospital in Birmingham, UK.[7] The attempt on her life sparked an international outpouring of support for Yousafzai. Deutsche Welle reported in January 2013 that Yousafzai may have become "the most famous teenager in the world".[8] Weeks after the attempted murder, a group of fifty leading Muslim clerics in Pakistan issued a fatwā against those who tried to kill her.[9] The Taliban was internationally denounced by governments, human rights organizations and feminist groups. Taliban officials responded to condemnation by further denouncing Yousafzai, indicating plans for a possible second assassination attempt, which was justified as a religious obligation. Their statements resulted in further international condemnation.[citation needed]

Following her recovery, Yousafzai became a prominent activist for the right to education. Based in Birmingham, she founded the Malala Fund, a non-profit organisation,[10] and in 2013 co-authored I Am Malala, an international best seller.[11] In 2012, she was the recipient of Pakistan's first National Youth Peace Prize and the 2013 Sakharov Prize.[12] In 2014, she was the co-recipient of the 2014 Nobel Peace Prize, along with Kailash Satyarthi of India. Aged 17 at the time, she was the youngest-ever Nobel Prize laureate.[13][14][15] In 2015, Yousafzai was a subject of the Oscar-shortlisted documentary He Named Me Malala. The 2013, 2014 and 2015 issues of Time magazine featured her as one of the most influential people globally. In 2017, she was awarded honorary Canadian citizenship and became the youngest person to address the House of Commons of Canada.[16] Yousafzai attended Edgbaston High School from 2013 to 2017,[17] and is currently studying for a bachelor's degree in Philosophy, Politics and Economics at Lady Margaret Hall, Oxford.[18]

dispossessed

[[ An ambiguous song about an ambiguous persona imagining a home he (could be she) used to know. Someone else is in the home now. A feeling of dispossession, real or imagined, some sort of revenge planned or fantasized. Fire and smoke imagery, maybe imagining the old chimney smoking, maybe imagining arson, maybe just a crazy phone call, maybe all in his head. The old phone is there for strangeness and to evoke an old time, dialing the number like a secret combination on a safe, with the phone's "cradle" doing double duty for imagery. Senses (taste and smell, fingers, warming, creaking) to introduce an uneasy nearness. And is he thinking of someone else (an invader? just a new owner) in his old home -- or is that "someone" just the persona sneaking back and creepily intruding in (calling on) his old home? It's coming from inside the house! Or not. ]]

smoke will be coiling

over our old home

sparks will be floating

floating on air

someone feels like he belongs now

in our old home

someone tastes the fruit still growing

in our garden

someone smells the flowers planted

by our mother

smoke will be coiling

over our old home

sparks will be floating

floating on air

someone opens creaking cupboards

in our kitchen

someone warms his chilly fingers

round our fire

someone feels like he belongs now

in our old home

now I am calling

dialing the rotary

my combination

into the past

lift the receiver

out of the cradle

lift the receiver

out of the past

fire will be burning

up through the blue air

sparks will be floating

floating on air

intentional love song 4: this demon love

imagine a demon 

controlling your heart

closing the valves 

and pulling them apart

the demon in your heart 

opens a door 

to see who shows

the demon in your heart 

opens a door 

to see who goes

this demon love 

that lives in your heart

beats out the rhythm

where all loves start

beats out the fire

that made your love burn

starts a new fire

because you never learn

climb the dark stairs

what's this bubbling 

up in my blood?

what's steaming

under the hood?

mother in the garden

fire in the kitchen 

mother in the garden

fire again

put down the pony 

frogs in the basement

neighbors on the party line

frogs in the well

lights in the drive

blue, red, and turning 

mother in the garden

something is burning

under the car at night

holding a torch for father

smell of spilled gasoline

orange of cigarette

smoke up the chimney

the game on teevee

twisting the aerial

pictures of snow

caught in the thunder

running in the rain 

wet camera jolting 

and jolting and jolting 

stories to 

sleep on

the dark and 

the bells

Nancy, Sikes,

Silver, Kim,

shipwrecked and 

kidnapped

and

climb the dark stairs

tempest and midsummer

salt and vinegar

the Russians in winter

alone in the woods

under the car at night

holding a torch for father

smell of spilled gasoline

orange of cigarette

mother in the garden

fire in the kitchen 

mother in the garden

fire again

stories to sleep on

climb the dark stairs

Lincoln Highway Blues

[[ It started with a quote in an article about the Beatles: "At the time I happened to be driving across the country on Interstate 80; in each city where I stopped for gas or food—Laramie, Ogallala, Moline, South Bend—the melodies wafted in from some far-off transistor radio or portable hi-fi. It was the most amazing thing I’ve ever heard." And there are fires now. And Ulysses and Leda peek in. And I took a Google maps trip down that part of the Lincoln Highway (30, not 80). And other stuff. But it's not about the Beatles or any of that other stuff. It is summer + radio + car + open spaces + America in the vaguest sense ]]


we heard you

coming through the radio

we heard you

humming down the wire

we heard your voice.

between the mountains 

when the mountains 

were on fire

we heard you

rolling through the barrio

we heard you

moaning through the wall 

we caught you 

going down ... 

the river 

where the river 

starts to fall

your voice was everywhere all summer 

they had to tie me to the mast  

and when the fever had passed 

I slept into autumn

I slipped into nothing 

I dreamt I was gotten

by something with wings

we heard you all the way 

from Laramie to Cheyenne

we heard you all the way

from Cheyenne to Ogallala 

I believe I fell asleep in Ogallala

and had an awakening in Davenport

we heard  you 

going down ... 

the river 

where the river 

starts to fall

we heard you all the way 

we heard you all the way 

summer is the season of fire

[[ summer wildfires ]]

someone set this mountain on fire

while we were sleeping 

coming back by daylight, you feel

the flame still creeping

this is where our home used to be

now all that's standing

is you and me

you see it on the horizon

you think there's plenty of time

and then the devil comes 

walking [[ two syllables to sound like a siren ]]

up your[[ two syllables to sound like a siren ]] 

street one [[ two syllables to sound like a siren ]]

house at a time

someone burned this valley down

while we were dreaming

you hear the roofs fall in on themselves

and horses screaming

this is where our home used to be

now the smoke's rolling

down to the sea

I think I heard somebody 

praying in the smoke 

to Santa Ana.

burning wire

what the hell?

smoke pours out

of the empty lot

like a burning tire

what the hell?

a shopping cart

and a hill of dirt

and a smoking fire

what the hell?

a vacant man

on vacant land

burning stolen wire

he's looking through me

I am the noise in his ear

I am a nothing to fear

he's burning wire

[[ across the street ]] 

ring of stones

at the... 

end of the 

actual 

day

when the... 

moon pushes 

through the 

sky

we fold 

our bones

round a ring 

of stones

and talk 

across 

a fire

we talk 

across 

a fire

we wonder how - we will get through the snow

we wonder how - we will carry this load

we wonder how - we will build a new home

we wonder how - we will follow this road

oh, go on

we go on

we can do 

nothing else 

but go on

oh, go on

we go on

and we sing

while we walk

a walking song 

till the... 

end of the 

actual 

day

when the... 

moon pushes 

through the 

sky

we fold 

our bones

round a ring 

of stones

and talk 

across 

a fire

remember how - we would lie in the grass

remember how - we would play by the shore

remember how - we would watch the day pass

remember how - we wanted nothing more


[[ nomads, refugees, wanderers  ]]

a house afire

[[ Mystery in death. This is a song about death coming upon someone and how the rest of us can only gather around and watch it happen. Another version would be (will be?) gathering round to say goodbye at the docks when a ship sails. It depends on how one goes, on how disabling and silencing it is. ]]


She got on with death

like a house afire.

She felt the spark inside,

like a new connection,

It was warming, kindling, 

then it caught and poured

from chamber to chamber

until it was done.

She was silent 

looking out through her windows

at the night

She was silent 

looking back at us circled

looking in

Until it was done, 

all we could do 

was stand at a distance,

stand and admire.

She and death got on

like a house afire.

Whisky, whores, and gold (fuck this town)

[[ is it a Broadway song or a country song or a folk song? ]] 

Why should a man 

dig potatoes 

all day 

in these fields,

when there's gold 

to be dug 

from the ground? 

Why should a man 

hitch his wagon 

to the neighbor's 

pale girl,

when he could swing

a new dancer 

each night?

Why should a man 

grind out his life

in these 

four square walls,

when he could ride 

a straight line

till he's gone?

Why should a man

spend his days

signing checks

in this town,

when he could go

give a mountain

his name?

[[ first the noble-sounding stuff... ]] 

Ride 

with the morning behind you

Ride 

with the night in your eyes

Die 

with the stars rolling over your bones, but

Live

under infinite skies

[[ ...but then cut to the truth ]]

Course there's gold and whores and whisky,

Whores and whisky and gold.
Wouldn't want a girl to miss me

Wouldn't be a man to be told

All I want is whores and whisky

Give me whisky and whores
And gold.

I'm going out west, 

Cause fuck this town.

I will strike a match

I will burn it down

Fuck the thirteen colonies

Right from Maine on down

Fuck every city 
to the Mississippi

But, most of all, 
fuck this town.

I can't say I'm not going to miss you

I can't say I won't look around

But I can't stay another damned minute

Or I swear I will burn this place down