Imprints, Music 🎶

Imprints: Dolores O’Riordan

I love what her music always resonated in my soul. As a teenager, many nights when I couldn’t articulate my despair, my depression…
I would replay her songs over and over. Artist like her made me feel less alienated to these contorted emotions.
I know she suffered with bipolar depression as I do and many others. And it is heartbreaking. I (we) do not know how she died. But we know a bit on how she lived. And it was through making beautiful songs with her soaring Irish voice, that cuts through to clarity in a day gone bad.
These are only a few of my favorite songs.

RIP Dolores O’Riordan 💔

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Collaborative poems, Earthly voids & Spiritual quest

Solar Cradle Soul

 Collaboration with Havoc and Consequence

Our burning photospheres
Once sprung forth to their highest peaks
The Sequoioideae of space, marvelling at our lofty heights
Yet a ruin grows in our binary bark
Threatening such chaos and calamity
Inevitably to be pulled into a great nebulous stir
Overcome by the tug of war
Of fighting zodiacs and the duplicity of time
The catastrophic collapse swell into the blossomed nova waves
An ethereal outreach on god’s fingertips

As our space sediments
Brought by stellar winds
Found their way to this cooling valley
Where we rose to life
Spread about on vast lush pastures of complacency
Fertile like the Nile’s riverbed
That stream of thought
Wavering on the edge of existence
Counting the memories as they floated by like clouds
And we began to bottle up and measure time
But our greatest fiction yet was to
Forget our stardust aril souls

But now we feel the metals in our blood
The fetter of cosmonaut coins that rattle in our brain
And that endless acceleration of gravity
The only feeling we allow ourselves
Our whirling fire
The core essence to recall
Orbiting a repose and the quietening of quantum regret
Our sunspots
Imprints as a marriage had once been
A snapshot
Capturing our ultraviolet ascent

Now we wait to be lifted up
Coddled once more in that stellar nursery
Suckling the teat of Shiva
Covered in the interstellar yoke of change

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Death, Lunar Poems

Blue Bees will not sting

Unless…
Roses in the park,
Shimmer as a string of red pearls slipping down her throat

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In a steel room he held her midst of mercy
Autumn’s arrival at last, the violet petals collapse
He’ll pass through cosmic tunnels
And wear her voice as he nears the moon

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What of it now?
The failure of nerve
We all stand a chance
To be a queen in his eyes
When the suntory claimed the roses as blue

Poem by: NaRa

Art: Blue Bee Image Pinterest, Mark Rothko & Freydoon Rassouli

 

 

 

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Imprints

“Evening Song” by Gottfried Keller

Eyes my dear little windows,
Give me a little longer the fairest glows of vision
Be kind, let the images in,
For someday you shall grow dim!

No sooner shall the light have ceased
And the tired lids close than the soul shall have peace;
She will fumbling take off her walking shoes
And lay her down in the coffin’s gloom.

Still, she will see two glimmering sparks,
Like two little stars in the inner dark,
‘ Till they, too, waver and finally die,
As though by the wing of a butterfly

And still will I roam in the evening fields,
With only the sinking star for a friend;
Drink in, oh eyes, all your lashes can hold
Of the golden abundance of the world!

For Hermann Rorchach, a light dimmed out to soon.

Art Gustva Klimt

 

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