Day: November 9, 2017

Caveat: Hallucinatory

Background Noise / Not My Poetry

I enjoy finding very weird music videos sometimes.

What I'm listening to right now.

Fever The Ghost, "((SOURCE))."

Lyrics – I'm extremely skeptical about the accuracy of these. I found them online. They look like some kind of automated transcription such as is common these days, but it doesn't really scan right. I didn't take the time to try to improve them, though. I guess we could just say they're hallucinatory, which matches the video.

Run run, ditto moon
Pullin' back, shape up to. The know?
High street, pushing steam
Rolling eye, is forced to dream
You go
All I want to know is how to start over again
You want it?
All I need to know is how to gain control
But the shameless soul
Oh, your sitting amongst yourselves
Soon, you lie under ecstasy
Your eye has stolen me
Oh, you sit amongst yourselves
Soon, you lie under ecstasy
Your eye is swichin' with it
Run run, ditto moon
Pullin' back, shape up to
You know?
High street, pushing steam
Rolling eye, is forced to dream
You go
All I want to know is how to start over again
You want it?
All I need to know is how is how you start to control
But the shameless soul
Oh, your sitting beside of me
Soon, you lie under ecstasy
Your eye has switched away
Oh, you sit amongst yourselves
Soon, you lie under ecstasy
But I have source it means,
Every wish you go in, every wish you go in,
I will see you sitting here
Every wish you sold it out, every wish you sold it out
In the silence
In the silence
Oh, your sitting amongst yourselves
Soon, you lie under ecstasies
In our mysteries
Oh, you sit amongst yourselves
Soon, you lie under ecstasies
In our mysteries
I await, no rise
Everywhere you goin', stop the city.
Oh, no
I'll know
Let's sail go go
You, I don't need ascension

[daily log: walking, 6.5km]

Caveat: Random Poem #165

A Daily Poem / Book 1 / My Poetry & Fiction

(Poem #466 on new numbering scheme)

Everyone seated on cushions, around a long table for late night
eating and drinking, a constant slow patter of talk in Korean
that I can't quite understand: the ubiquitous Korean group dinner.
I have decided to write down and publish this ode to the hweh-sik.
What is an ode? You expect me to tell you about bouts of fondness,
share some congenial anecdote. No. I just sit and absorb words.
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