“Synergistic Symphony”, OR “ROAD RULES” by Angel Brynner AOLAB31MAY2014

Every Month of 2014 has had a different systematic focus for me, fine-tuning wise.

You guys have watched as I figured my way through clean-eating, pescatarianism, vegetarianism, juicing and all kinds of other things that have led to a lot of gut-level emotional work coming up to be dealt with and righted. I’ve added things and taken things away-it’s been kind of wild over here.

May was all about honoring how integral exploring this world we live in is for me in a tangible way. Travel is a prime food for me whose reserves I’d let get utterly depleted to damn near ruinous levels that I wasn’t even aware of until I’d started counting the costs of all the other foods haplessly entering my ecosystem. & Once I realized how ravenous I truly was I just had to go. Somewhere.

I was on the road four of the five weeks of May, four days each week, coming back to nola just in time to work doubles across 2 of three days, plus classes. I haven’t written blogs touching on much of this trek-a sporadic few spilled out connected to more lighthearted aspects of it all, but the truth is I was doing this wholly for myself. not my audience. not even exactly for my kids, the books, although they surely benefitted because chapters started falling out of me as soon as I hit the road, and there’s nothing like a long road-trip to plow through a good book. It was work. I was pawing through archeological sites and museum collections, but it was also primarily sustenance from the road that could be gained no other way.

The first trek-which was Memphis BBQ ruled after a month of cutting out who knows what, I came back knowing it was pointless to go for broke on the road without bringing along what I’d learned about my body/ecosystem so far this year.In other words I got sick as a dog due to nothing but BBQ & truck stop food for four days & my body demanded I sit the fuck down and eat a salad to get my levels right… for a few days. It’s the first time that kind of event horizon had gone down…being too tired to hit the road once I’d begun gypsying…and I was NOT having it. I had to do right to keep doing what May was about.

I got some green juice in me & picked up some hemp powder, a lil wheat&barley grass green magma shaker  http://www.greenfoods.com/store/p/63-Green-Magma-4-Sticks-Shaker-Cup.aspx , even got back on my satsang wagon in the mornings, opting to make it spliced more along the lines of spruce. hempfiber

That recovery week at home led to me getting smarter for the road, deciding to be vegetarian for the brunt of the second trip AND packing the  wheatgrass powdered green drink to splice with turmeric powder, miso soup and rice to tide me, & matcha powder & chai  to  mix so as to ride me through a Memphis writing retreat until meeting up with my kid sister & her husband in Nashville for donut burgers.

For the third trek-which was a reconnaissance trip back into South Beach, I actually fasted the entire way in. From 11pm Tuesday night until 930pm Wednesday when I arrived back at the beach, I was happily on nothing but Coconut water & basically lemonade, basically in prayer.& just as it often does when one is nudged down such paths, I was thanking God I did by the time I got there.

For the fourth trek-which I just returned from around 8pm last night[ Memphis, Dallas, Ft. Worth[which is actually over an hour away from Dallas],Memphis,back to NOLA]…I was a bit more laid back. I went in on apples, but I enjoyed good food across all three cities in the four days.

This morning’s Sprucey Satsang welcomed the addition of an oldie, but a goodie. I got into Green vibrance on my 1st real health kick in 2006, when I started large-scale drawing again for the first time since high school, really.greenvibrancelabel Just gravitated towards it. It worked. Then. one more “I know it does me good”ie is coming back for the month of June too. Something that saved my life in Japan as God was hunting me hard to save my soul in 2001. Tossing it into a cleaner system should be entertaining to say the least because it purified my blood like a -& the box was all in Japanese so I didn’t even KNOW what had dropped into my lap. I just knew to take it.

yaeyama

 

Welland goodnyc.com’s healthiest year ever has been my sidekick this year.

http://www.wellandgoodnyc.com/goodness/june-add-superfoods-to-every-meal/

June’s general directive is Superfoods every meal. All this together should handle that. We shall see.

 

 

-AB

 

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Portrait of an artist, exploring…space, the final frontier AOLABroad/respite MAY2014

Thanking God for the stars and skies and the grace of all kinds of honored flights.

Two chapters popped out in the midst of much running to and around Miami the other day. God nuzzled me & it was just like whoosh~.

Was it helped by the schlumpy cut-offs and the lurid music tee? Nope. But this IS my first bandeau bikini 🙂 I’m kinda all to infinity and beyond about the whole thing too lol. Who knew?!

-AB

CHAPTER 19 & 20[omg!!]/EXCERPT FROM EXILE, THEGRIEVECHRONICLES#4, by Angel Brynner. [AOLAB WORKINPROGRESS/ROADhome2014]

[some of yall…know what that omg is for 🙂 ]

 

chapter nineteen

The pile of ignited myrrh, sage and agarwood went out just as quickly as it had kicked off its first plume of smoke. The face of the lone figure who tended it deepened into a scowl under the Berber wrap in place against the sun. Out came a rusty telescope that was rammed back towards the sky, but nothing was visible but blackness. The grunt of frustration echoed in the empty space around her as the protective headwrap was violently ripped off. Cornrows that danced almost down to her scrawny waist slashed angrily through the air due to the hunks of desert glass the ends were weighed down with.

She twisted her lips and balefully glared back up into the sky. Sighting them, she slammed the telescope back down to at-rest and expertly pointed the lens at the blazing sun behind her, then angled the beam with laser like precision towards the aromatic woods.

“Come on!” she grunted, a mean yet pretty look of determination scrawled all over her androgynous, ochre streaked features as the sun all but whimpered against her demand.

“Now!” she roared and whipped her head back up towards the sun accusingly, causing her braids to fan out behind her like some strange peacock. As if on cue, the sun caught facets on each of the hunks of adorning glass and slammed rays roughly through them at the same time.

A ring-burst of fire erupted like an aura around the little girl and slammed into the pile. She tumbled back in shock as the pyre went up in flames. Still scowling, she shook off the fall and looked up at the blazing bonfire from her on back, mystified yet proud.

She careened her neck back up towards the sun. “Thanks,” she growled appreciatively to no one seen in particular as a lopsided, angular grin splayed itself across her stained cheeks. She roughly took in the smell that filled the mesa due to the fire and waited.

 

 

 

chapter twenty

Sighting the ravens, the dusty little desert girl with the boy strapped to her back corkscrewed through the air with their arms tightly stuck to their sides as they counted themselves down.

“Three! Two! One! Zero!! Go!!” They hollered upon seeing the boom of flame below and flung their arms out like flying squirrels. Their sinewy bodies caught gusts of air as they plummeted towards the painted wasteland. Their fingers played with the breezes they slid through like pros as the burlap sack the boy was strapped in on her back billowed, creating just enough drag to keep them alive.

The tiny boy threw his left arm enthusiastically over his head and hooted like the thrill-junkie he’d become riding shotgun with his wild-eyed, crazy firstborn sister that was much bigger than him. She screamed at the top of her lungs as they careened a bit off of the course they’d been cutting through the sky due to his physical exuberance. “Stay focused!” She yelled.

“Sorry!!” he yelled back and dutifully corrected his glide just in time for them to catch a final gust up that they could ease down upon without crushing bone after bone upon impact like the last time. At the last conceivable moment they both bent their knees and let the rest of their bodies go limp as they clumped to the ground, a desert bloom of detritus kicked up as they landed.

The cornrowed fire-watcher child shielded her scowling eyes, still comfortably sprawled on her back.

“Sup~” she called out, voice raspy like she had smoked cigars since birth.

“Sup-” The flyers choked out in unison on the smoke she seemed to be relaxing in front of as their lungs adjusted to the thicker air there.

“Why are you on your back?” The middle boy diplomatically asked the third-born out of them as he disentangled from the firstborn.

“yeah-why?” The firstborn of the three asked quizzically.

The third-born guffawed and silently flashed them the ring of fire event inside their minds. “Whoa~!” The three murmured in unison, third-born re-living it with her fraternal twins.

“Is the load near?” The kid clad in leather asked the fire-watcher, who nodded and pointed as they all watched the two black birds sail at an angle overhead a bit towards the horizon, a third raven cutting across it to join them in pursuit.

“There’s a river a ways beyond that outcrop. We gotta move.”

 

CHAPTER 17/EXCERPT FROM EXILE, BOOK FOUR OF THEGRIEVECHRONICLES by Angel Brynner. [AOLAB WORKINPROGRESS/ROAD2MEMPHIS2014]

chapter seventeen

 

“Did you believe in God?” Habib asked Rabble out of nowhere at the counter.

“What?” the teenager asked.

“Did you believe in God?” the old man asked again as his eyes calmly swept the perimeter.

“You mean like before the shit went down with my mom being killed by that asshole she called her man? Did I give up on-” Rabble paused and dropped his head to peer closely into the dregs of his cup.

“I mean it was hard, and i’m never going to be right because of it, but- like- My friends, though? The way they rose up for me had to have been of God- I mean they put their lives on the line for me time and time again- just to make sure I made it through. Nothing but God could’ve-”  his voice trailed off to a whisper.

Rabble didn’t see the middle eastern man’s eyes white out.

“No- I mean in general. Now. But before. Same difference.” Habib asked with an even clip to his voice as he walked back around his counter, pulled out a huge weapon and cased the plate glass windows that protectively encased the two of them like a bubble.

Rabble just kept staring into his cup. “You mean Like Allah, Buddha, Krishna-?” he muttered as he watched the remaining oils dance across the blips of coffee. “I met this Dominican once, he said that where he was from, folks use to be able to tell the future from reading the last drops of coffee in a cup.”

“No, I meant the real one. But they do that in Persian cultures too. Seers, at least.” Habib mumbled, eyes flitting across the silent mayhem on the other side of the windows. “Had a sister get all into that because our line supposedly had that so-called gift. Lost her in it though. She missed the connection for the point-”

“Fam had it?Oh,well that means you got it too-” Rabble Rabble grinned for the first time in forever. “What you see in my future according to this?” he chuckled and tilted up his cup as he finally looked up. His jaw dropped when he saw the beast of a gun.

“Glass. Lots of broken glass.” Habib growled “And running. For the last dregs of your life. Now don’t…move.”

“What did I do to you?” Rabble whispered softly as his face all but caved in from despair, confused, rejected and hurt in one breath.

“No, no~son-” Habib whispered softly. “This isn’t against you, Rabble. It’s FOR you, kid. And for the sake of the son and the sister I lost to all of this. Turn around. Slowly, son.” Habib muttered something in his mother tongue and the veil dropped from Rabble’s eyes.

“What the Hell?!” Rabble hissed.

“Exactly.” Habib growled

CHAPTER 16/EXCERPT FROM EXILE, BOOK FOUR OF THEGRIEVECHRONICLES by Angel Brynner. [AOLAB WORKINPROGRESS/ROAD2MEMPHIS2014]

chapter sixteen

 

Ballast ran down the back stairs as fast as he could without tangling his feet into one another. He moved all 236 pounds on his five foot eight frame like the Refrigerator Perry he used to dream he once was and spun off things that weren’t there, glasses akimbo as he ran passes in his head from hiding spot to spot until he got to the lip of the stairs that slid down into the pit that was the basement of the old building.

 

“Clearly, i did not think this shit through-” he reprimanded himself as every scary thing that could be thought about basements slammed against his closed eyes as he gingerly bent down on his knees and peeked his head down into the dark lower hallway.

 

“What are you doing?” Viancourt whispered from the shadows below, scaring the shit out of him. Cursing, Ballast tripped down the last flight of stairs onto the floor and landed with a bang, Fairman’s gun going off in and ripping through his pants pocket. The bullet bounced off the floor and missed his foot by a centimeter then whizzed past Viancourt’s shoulder, singeing the hair above his ear before it slammed into the wall.

 

“What the hell are you trying to-” Viancourt roared as he dusted angrily at his hair and tufts of it that had been burnt came off under his fingers. Gape-mouthed, he and Ballast slowly turned to stare up at the glowing bullet that lodged in the wall just about the lockers.

“Fairman-?” Viancourt barked, a bit shaken.

“Yeah.” Ballast whispered.
“Where?” Viancourt snapped.

“Third Floor. Maan~All Hell is trying to-” Ballast started.

“You don’t even know the half of it, kid-” Viancourt muttered. Only then did Ballast notice the strange sound that seemed to be pulsing against the foundations of the place.

“What is that noise?” Ballast whispered.

Viancourt silently motioned for Ballast to follow him down the dark hallway. On one side of the hall was Viancourt’s office, a space it was rumored no one had entered and gotten out of without having gangland-style beat-in V marks on their foreheads from his ring to show for it. It was wedged between two of the four furnaces that would’ve heated the always cold building if anything had worked correctly within the school since like forever. Across from the school’s point of no return was the physical education supply room, strung up between the other two dead furnaces. They formed a cold, foundational x in the basement of the school, marking where spiritual and memorial treasures of the highest and lowest kinds had been laid up for eons.

 

Ballast’s breath caught as Viancourt slowed and motioned him over to the storeroom instead of the office and pushed the door open. Oppressive heat pushed against thick glass walls full of fire on the left and right as the two entered the room from the frigid hall.

“Wait-These are on-?All of them?” Ballast asked, confused.

“…Protectively, Yes.” Viancourt muttered.

“But it’s always cold and-” Ballast started and stopped himself.

Viancourt sighed. “Time to all the way up, kid.” he muttered and quietly motioned towards the iron gated windows cut into the bit of wall between the two furnaces. They were the only ones on that side of the lower level that had not been bricked in.

“Oh my god-” Ballast whispered. He reeled as a slight fog cleared from the lenses of his glasses.

Demons snarled and crawled on their bellies through the carnage of destroyed vehicles and doomed bodies. Unearthly howls erupted from the center of broken chests as packs of devils ripped at rigormortised limbs of humans unable to all the way die as they were torn apart. Suddenly, a pocket of demons reared up and slammed into big grates bolted to the brick walls over vents, shaking the foundations of the old building.

“Wait! That’s what that always was?” Ballast shrieked.”I’ve been here since fourth grade!You teachers always said the building was just settling!”

“More like refusing to settle~” Viancourt chuckled, then realized that due to the current situation it was utterly inappropriate to do so by the terrified look on Ballast’s face. “Just-just watch, kid. Watch-”

Emboldened by the sway of the building, The clatch of demons regrouped and ran into the school again. At that exact moment, the flames in the double boilers boomed and sent out sulphuric blasts of fire that clouded around the devils and yanked them up against the iron points that ran up and down the grated strips that protected the vents, slashing them into chunks that got suctioned into the pits of the boiler. Ballast and Viancourt watched the demons shriek and writhe in pits of fire, protected by nothing but the love of god and the glass.

“You said Fairman’s on Third?” Viancourt muttered absently as he wandered off into a storage unit, filling duffel bags as all the spirit left in Ballast grappled with what he saw.

“Yeah,”Ballast mumbled back, completely thunderstuck between the demonic hunks feeding the fire in his face he had not even felt until now and the apocalyptic scene that was jumping off on the other side of the windows and walls of the good ground that was their decrepit, old school building. “Life is but a dream, man…” Ballast whispered.

Viancourt walked past Ballast then paused.” You said a mouthful there, kid.”

He looked around the territory classified as his dominion as a small seventh grader with jaundice-toned skin, reddish frizzy hair and steely,watery eyes peeked around the door frame. A faint v bruise was noticeable just below the slight widow’s peak of her hairline. Viancourt nodded and tossed the kid a steel bat that she immediately began to swing violently through the air.

“Come on, kid. Let’s go.” Viancourt called out to Ballast who was so stunned by the ferocity of the little girl’s rough practice swings that he refused to make a move. Viancourt whistled. She glared over her shoulder, stopped, and angrily bid Ballast pass.

“What the hell is she doing? and Where are we going?” Ballast whispered as he came up to Viancourt and got tossed two duffels.

“She…” Viancourt grinned, “is practicing. In case any thing breaks through…and we… are going to arm the rest of the Youngers LIKE her. They’ve had it rougher.They’re more attuned to the shit that’s trying to break through. And are even crazier than you all to have made it this far as small as they were when it hit-” Viancourt paused.”Kid- stop asking questions- Let’s go.”

Ballast shrugged his shoulders and started to follow, but something made him stop. He looked back at the scrawny, tough little redbone girl who had started back with the bat and saw that for all her obvious rage, at the center of her firey eyes there was a little kid all the same, defiant, but shaky. He watched as with each swing angry tears flung themselves from her eyes and sprays of sweat popped wheelies off of her sinewy little arms from the exertion.

“What?” Viancourt asked, realizing Ballast had stopped.

“You got anything stronger than that bat for her? Telling you- today…she might need it.” Ballast muttered.

“Okay-give her Fairman’s gloc. Her aim’s better than yours anyway.” Viancourt says.

“Hey, kid-” Ballast called out. She scowled but wouldn’t look through her aura of actual sweat and tears away from her imagined target.”What’s her name?” he whispered as he watched her rough mane of rusty hair slam through space with each violent swing.

“Gloria Byllie Jean Arachne. They tried to call her ‘Glow Worm’ once. Mean-assed kids. Coloring, watery eyes, nervously sweaty. The tears made the bullies bold. Her little ass was all over them, though. Ambidexterous. She kinda went Global-seemed to come from everywhere, fought like a pissed off billy goat. Hits like a beast, too.” Viancourt muttered, almost proudly.

“Yo, Arachne!” Ballast called out and got ignored for a second time.

“Globyl” Viancourt barked. The little batter looked up. Viancourt ripped the gun from Ballast’s pants and overhanded to her.

“What the Hell! you dont just throw a-” Ballast starts. “She’s a kid!” He fussed.

“What the hell? This is Cleveland, kid.”Viancourt chuckled.

 

The little girl roughly caught the gloc with her left hand like it was a fastball, meanly handling the steel bat with her right. Teeny, twelve year old Gloria Byllie Jean Arachne turned the weapon over, peering at it. She looked over at Ballast, cocked it, then grinned darkly as she rammed it down the back of her pants and went back to swinging in the rain of her own making without missing a beat, which scared the shit out of Ballast.

Viancourt pulled Ballast out the storeroom and bolted the door from the outside.

“She’ll be fine.Trust me. Let’s go.”

CHAPTER 15/EXCERPT FROM EXILE, BOOK FOUR OF THEGRIEVECHRONICLES by Angel Brynner. [AOLAB WORKINPROGRESS/ROAD2MEMPHIS2014]

chapter fifteen

Jezreel hit the floor hard. The deathly silent first floor made absolutely no sense in light of the chaos up on the third. Rage welled up behind his eyes and spilled over his cheeks as curse after curse grunted out of his mouth. He angrily struck out at a wall of lockers as he went past, unaware of each step lifting him up off the ground bit by bit as he went.

 

“This is supposed to be settled!” He grimaced as he roughly flew across the hallway into the other wall and punched a hole in it. Physical aggression poured out of him the only way it knew how to. He danced like Nureyev thrown into a vicious rugby game and out for blood. He threw himself violently down the hall, cracking windows, forcibly splintering doors and ripping things down.  “We’re Here! This is done! It’s supposed to be-Over-” he hissed and threw himself down onto his knees with such force that the palms of his hands cracked the floor. Air wheezed raggedly in his ears as he leaned on his heels and looked back down the hallway he had just destroyed. It was so silent that it put his teeth on edge.

 

His breath rattled in his chest as his eyes traveled down his ashen arms into cracked, grey hands that helplessly rested in his lap. “What the-I don’t- understand-” he whispered in shock. He peered at a faint splotch of red that slowly made itself visible between his right thumb and index finger and slowly began to grow, pulsing out across his hand.

 

“…Don’t you?” the teacher they called Wade growled softly. The double doors of the studio were flung open and he was seated on the floor in the center of the dance room like a Samurai, his back to the destruction.

“Mr. Wade-” Jezreel started as he scrambled to his feet. He made his way towards his old teacher who disturbingly looked as young as the first day they’d met. Wade’s eyes crackled as he swiveled his torso around and interrupted him.

“I said- Don’t. You. Understand?” Mr. Wade repeated roughly.

Jezreel’s face contorted in confusion. “No! No I don’t!” he yelled as he loomed over his young-looking old teacher.

Wade spun around, took the feet out from under Jezreel and pinned him to the springy floorboards of the dance studio by the neck. His lips hovered a centimeter above Jezreel’s ear.

 

“Life. They smell the life hidden here…on ice. Not just her…you too… US…all of us….when WE…now… ALL of US…Here… are supposed to be… Like them.” Wade growled softly, then yanked Jezreel up off the floor by his neck and roughly flung him into a mirrored wall to the right like a rag doll. He pointed a spindly, accusatory finger at him. “And I saw you dance damn near your entire life. THAT-” Wade motioned roughly down the wake Jezreel had cut, “Is the most passionate your ass has ever moved, dead or alive.”

 

Jezreel shook off being confused by the compliment or insult in the comment. “Wade- we don’t have time for this-”

“We have all the time in the-”

“Dude- I’m serious- Don’t go all Kung Fu on me! I need your-”

“That’s part of the issue- you are Serious-” Wade said dismissively and walked towards the windows like the duck-footed dance master he once was.

“Listen, Magii~” Jezreel said derisively, “I get it, I Know where I am, where or what we are- dead or alive-zombie, yeah-yeah- Look-dude, we are under attack up there-like now!” he finished as he walked up behind Wade.

 

His jaw dropped as Wade waved his hand and the remaining veil fell from Jezreel’s eyes. An all-out war zone was erupting in the streets that surrounded the crumbling, old school. People mauled one another, clawing and ripping at whatever flesh or heat they could get ahold of or smell on one another, hungry for life, for blood, for another taste of what had been completely taken for granted across such a twisted expanse of space and time. They bayed like animals and turned on one another incessantly, tumbling against rusted and rotting abandoned cars that were strewn across the pock-marked boulevard. Wade motioned across the way to the protesters forever going at it in front of the abortion clinic. Jezreel’s eyes grew huge as he saw them run off to dumpsters alongside the lot and do despicable things to each other and the bloodied things found within it,  a handful at a time.

“WE? We are always under siege-“Every moment of this entire after-life, we are under attack. Don’t ever forget that- or all the gifting you brought this far will be useless.” Wade said darkly as Jezreel’s eyes scanned the scene frantically, not understanding why, like something of his was in it .Then he saw him.

“Sonafabitch! That’s Rabble-Rabble!” Jezreel gasped as his sight extended through the crush of disfiguringly contorted bodies to see Rabble and Habib frozen, cups to lips at the diner. The only thing that kept them from the insanity strung up between the two clusters of eternal men were flimsy pieces of glass.

“What the fuck is he doing out There?!” Wade roared, shoving Jezreel aside to see for himself. “Everyone needs to be HERE!” Wade yelled.

“Vitanza wouldn’t let him in! He was strapped too! He brought a-” Jezreel’s yelp got caught in his throat. “Oh my God-” He whispered as one of the demon possessed protestors furthest from the coffee shop lifted up his nose, sniffed the air like the feral beast he’d become, then jealously scanned the perimeter as he tried to decide where the scent was coming from without letting the other devils around him find out.

 

“They’re starting to smell him-“Wade hissed. The two men looked at each other. Without a word passed between the two of them, they bolted back, turned and slammed through the glass, down and out into the madness on the street through the cover of slow-falling shards towards Rabble Rabble.

SKYLAND, a song by Angel Brynner for EXILE, 6MAY2014

…woke up singing in the spirit & style of Stephen Simmonds this morning. Think that song Let it go but more for the boundaries of the sound. simple  finger-snapping should set the cage of the sonar space lol.

That singer Maxwell who used to stalk me up in NYC & Miami somehow got word I was heading to Memphis last week[aka  email accounts still hacked but fuck him, living my life]…and showed up down the road from the archeological site I had to go to for research for the book. I saw him and walked right past him. When God delivers you, there’s nothing you cant walk through. Still had a phenomenal, emotional trek,  a MOTHERLOAD of BBQ, a great time, and the experience of the civil rights museum knocking me on my ass, which led to the first chapter written since Eleuthera’s FREEDOMRUN 2013 writing retreat.

His attempt was a puny footnote to all that…but one that must be addressed in the public record due to other things brewing. I decided to use the negative, stalking energy sent towards my blessed life yet again…for good. Since SOME of us  actually CAN write[books, poems, plays…songs]without drugs, relying on crutches or trying to cause pain to people who’ve left them… I woke up laughing this song out of me, snapping my fingers and wagging my head to the beat, sangin’ yall. I may make a music video for it lol. [reeeeeemiiiix!] Should I be solemn due the shiestiness of the shady attempt? educational expressions of lyrical abilities just feel like a more pragmatic processing of the foulness into something better than what was meant by it.

To set the scene, imagine a guy with the world in the palm of his hand, thinking he’s God himself due to the demons he serves, actually getting it in his head to track a bitch across state lines out to the woods of Tennesee where he knew she’d be on foot & alone…sitting in his gleaming truck and waiting, like he was going to do something bad to her. Then imagine that big-headed guy seeing her “see” him start his truck like he’s going to hit her or something, then twist up her lips and keep strutting back out said woods as he bursts into fucking tears and u-turns said truck. Then…. imagine that asshole on the heels of his outright stalking attempt, grieving, gripping the steering wheel that’s wet with tears and looking up at this big open sky peppered with clouds floating like chunks of land in the project she’s actually working on. all gets quiet…and the holy land he is blindly parked on itself…starts singing this song out to him. On her behalf.

But he still doesn’t get it.

& spends the next few days sending online cyber-attacks her way, indignant that she was like what EVER. so finally, eye to God, a song the likes of which God wont give to him…playfully frolics out of her due to the affectionate massagings of a whole other aspect of this we wont even address here 🙂

 

…In the immortal words of David Allen Grier in character:

“…I wrote a song about it…wanna hear it? Here it go~”

(MELODRAMATIC ECHOING PIANO OPENER TO THE SONG BEHIND 1ST VERSE)

…SO FAR BEYOND THE END

REFUSING TO PRETEND

THAT YOU EVER WERE MY FRIEND

THE GOD THAT RESCUED ME

THAT YOU’RE TOO BLIND TO SEE

HAS ALREADY SET ME FREE

FROM ALL THE LIKES OF YOU

AND ALL YOU TRY TO DO

THERE’S NOTHING YOU CAN PUT ME THRU

AND YOU’RE TOO BLIND TO TRUTH

TO SEE THAT ALL YOU DO

IT KEEPS ON DEALING DEATH TO YOU….

 

[2]

I WANNA MAKE YOU SEE

THAT YOU’RE NOT HURTING ME

OH-YOU NEED TO LET ME BE-

THERE’S NO NEED TO PRETEND

YOU NEED TO LET THIS END

SO THAT YOU CAN FLOW AGAIN-

 

NO MATTER WHAT YOU DO

IT ALL COMES BACK TO YOU-

I’VE ALREADY MADE IT THROUGH

NO MATTER WHAT YOU SEE

YOU ARE NOT AILING ME-

OH YOU NEED TO LET ME BE-

 

[3]

THERE’S NOTHING YOU CAN DO,

THAT YOU CAN PUT ME THROUGH

GOD’S TAKEN ME AWAY FROM YOU

CAUSE YOU COULD NEVER SEE

THE LOVE IN HIM OR ME

THAT’S WHY YOU’RE DROWNING IN THAT SEA

 

NO MATTER WHAT YOU DO

OR WHAT YOU PUT ME THROUGH

THE TRIAL IS COMING BACK TO YOU

GO HEAD & PRESS TO SEE

TABLES HE’S SET FOR ME

BECAUSE YOU WOULDN’T LET ME BE

 

[5]

EVERYBODY KNOWS

THAT NOTHING IN YOU GROWS

BECAUSE OF ALL THE MESS YOU CHOSE

AND EVERYBODY SEES

THAT YOU’RE NOT AILING ME

AND YOU HAD BETTER LET ME BE-

YOU’VE GOTTEN SO HOLLOW,

ALL YOU DO IS FOLLOW

REDUCED YOURSELF TO A SHADOW

YOU KEEP FOLLOWING ME

AS IF I HOLD THE KEY,

AS IF MY LOVE COULD SET YOU FREE.

 

[6]

[ADDENDUM/BLACK ALBUM BLUNT VERSE]

SO CRY OUT IN YOUR TRUCK

I DO NOT GIVE A FUCK

BECAUSE YOU ARE WHO CHOSE YOUR LUCK

FOLLOWING ME IN TREES

LIKE YOU COULD EVER PLEASE

A DROP OF WATER FROM YOUR SEAS

AND FUCK YOUR FRIENDS AND LIES

YOUR FLIMSY ALIBIS

UNDERSCORE WHY GOD CUT THESE TIES

NOTHING THAT’S PURE OR TRUE

WILL EVER STAY WITH YOU

YOUR HEART IS FOUL YOUR “FRIENDS” KNOW TOO

 

copyright Angel Brynner/KPM