1. |
Bad Blood
05:38
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Had a bad dream last night
the folding cliffs were towering
But there was a comfort there
delusive and devouring
This blood is sickly
It seethes greasily
The pewter light of the sky at night
Transitions and disappears
A shack in spite of the shoreline might
To the bay's engulfment volunteer
a person can stuff their ears
full of diamonds and money
to shelter from their fears
But they won't know the waves from the pier
The folded cliffs of that abyss
Where terrors certainly eclipse
And ripple on
Through many generations
That bear the sleet bodies, stolen
to this sickly kiss I am beholden
I and you in this sickly abyss
Hold to me, I’ll hold to you
Whenever I am able to
I'll hold your love, like a crimson vice
That casts some grace on brazen nights
Hold faded love in melody
And conjure bone-clear memory
Of this unyielding bittersweet coast
Where no wreck, nor beak nor feather’s ghost
Bares a mention
I’d say, “That man is placeable and tethered”
You say “That man is an innate shill”
But the jubilance of song when you holler
beats those shilling dollars
The governance of money
does not reconcile the body,
its bad blood and folly
It is a deathly charm,
A damonclean mess
To be lulled into its arms
Bad blood bad blood
Bad blood to the mire and the mud.
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2. |
Belafonte's Farewell
03:46
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The apothecary tends the bar,
beachside, below the treeline
You lay floating in my arms
in the tepid water, our skin is brined
Your gaze at the cliffs above
where the sweet sea bird returns to dwell
Tepid words I'm bereft of
softly singing Belafonte’s Farewell
Like the wind that chides the garry oak tree at night
Oh babe you know
I’ve got a blissful mind
but sometimes my mind, it is unkind
blissful tides will fade away to the oblivion of memory
Till the future’s the only sensory
My cup was full and heady
Weather brined I was bound unsteady
The bar attendant, my apothecary
Divined a temperament unwary
On his face the shadow of palms swayed
“What is a tear worth?” said I and stumbled among the flora
He said, “it’s worth what you've put into it”
A distant band struck up Guadalajara
Well the wind that chides the garry oak tree
At night
in the tropics sleep is fitful soaking
But you can’t dream the past away
And a garry oak tree
always first in the fall to drop its leaves
So there’s no use in crying about a garry oak memory
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3. |
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Hiro came up from the woodshop
For a cup of wine
I was recording guitar parts
For a song of mine
Titled: Scent of Memory
Nervous, for the coming of his child,
He spoke of woodworking,
His voice delicate and mild
And in between pulls of wine
He laughed at me
Saying “i am obsessed with how the shama thrush sings
Before the coming of night”
Nights are long and ruinous
It can feel like you’re on a empty bus
To the undisclosed loneliness
Oh the rare and rapt beauty
of the robin’s dulcet melody
Harbours a special unease
When it arises with the morning’s glare
And if you should inscribe
Iambic pentameter on my gravesite
make it a couple of lines
about the first part of my life
No empty accolades
Or poetry infantilized
Just the good times
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4. |
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Lost in a miasma of discordant sound
Sad eyed king on palatial ground
Tomorrow is a long time when you're a memory
With these demon vibes the outcome is poor
in summary
Is that a station up in the sky?
or the stigmatism in my left eye?
Was it dark and was I sleeping?
I must have jerked awake and broke our kingdom.
I spilled my glass of water on the floor
The fans in your bedroom
They just push around the stagnant air
Was I sleeping or is it much later and I just dreamt you were there?
Now the skyline of my mind
Looks like some kind
Of smashed circuit board
And to unfuck it
I must settle a serious score
Lost in a miasma
Of plain thoughts and roaring sea
Neptunian torrents of sky echoed all round me
Feeling permanently delirious
Fear I have become terminally serious
Drinking in the rain at the beach again
A can of beer flowed over and suds upon my chin
Sheltering it from the rain
With my sleeve I wiped my skin
Do you still have that copy of Scott 4
I bought for you for your birthday, especially from our friend’s record store?
This constantly cycling through the memory of my worst behaviours
is like the feeling of constantly pissing my drawers when I'm a passenger in a car at night,
I like to stare at the driver in the car to the right And when their concentration breaks
And they are alerted to my gaze
I like to pretend I know them or that there’s someone hiding in their back seat
When you’re a passenger in a car at night.
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5. |
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I said I surely adore you
She said I know, you tell me all the time
then she stepped outside and closed the door
I felt agitation in my mind
standing alone in the hall through the window the sun beamed on the bottle as I swigged
And the thought jumped into my mind real quick
of Thomas in a Rick James wig.
There he is clear as day in my memory
Laying on the grass in the breeze
High on acid, telling me jokes
Under the poplar trees
I remember it was his birthday and
Though I don't recall the jokes specifically
I remember laughing at them with ease
Now I sit at a bar
Enduring a lesser occupation
Feeling the sentiment of a lower echelon
On a daily occasion
That great god damned gilded age is gone
Dr. Peter is gone
Now when I'm done work I just go home to sleep
And do so as a character from one of my friend David's songs
He said that's the dummest thing I've ever heard
Upon hearing I'd slept out in the park
But I was caught last up at our hosts house
Long after the lights dimmed and the house grew dark
I figured it'd be no problem
I'll just take a rest, sleep later in the van
And I lay down on the freezing dew
In the morning Thomas laughing, chiding me
Saying there was always lots of room inside for you
Oh ya I know, I replied
Red faced and swelling with rage
The previous night's revelry having all but faded
Left a gaping pain in my head
That couldn't be cured by joke nor pill
Nor bread
Slightly embarrassed, though my thoughts still clouded red
All I know is I'm not driving, I said
We set out after breakfast
Covered 8 hours of prairie
Pulled up in the late evening at the Apollo
(Not the one your thinking of, the one in Thunder Bay)
The owner Sheila fed us pints of 50'
Her mother fried up something to eat
We didn't even have a show to play
Just a friendly place to stop and celebrate
Matt's 30th birthday
It was most likely another night
before reaching reaching Toronto
Excited to see old friends who lived there
Playing at a place shaped like a boat
Matt and Thomas has this song they always ended with
And it went on and on at the end on the same note
Embolden by a few nights of rest
And probably over imbibed, my spirit afloat
I progressed to climb onto the bass amp
And as that last song played out in 4/4
I threw myself over the cymbals and the whole drum kit was heaped out on the floor
With Matt and I in embrace and dumbly laughing
I did that same thing at the end of every show the rest of that tour
I still remember Thomas in a Rick James wig.
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Wayfinding Edmonton, Alberta
Wayfinding is somewhat enigmatic and induced by the current moment and nature of the world around us. We here for it,
supporting each through each chord change and chorus, and playing songs together.
Wayfinding is a new musical project led by musician/artist Marek Tyler, in collaboration with Ryan Beattie, Matthew Cardinal.
... more
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