1. |
Collecting Bones
08:14
|
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|
poem / lyrics by Eli Wallis
Collecting Bones
-----------------------
I start to miss home
while yer smoking on the phone
yes, it's raining here as well
I start to miss home
I've been having this dream about collecting bones
up to Lake Banook, along the road
my roomate says that it's clear
I don't know, what I'm doing here
I don't know, what I'm doing here
I start to miss home
while yer smoking on the phone
yes, it's raining here as well
I've been having this dream about collecting bones
up to Lake Banook, along the road
my roomate says that it's clear
I don't know, what I'm doing here
I don't know, what I'm doing here
I always liked you as a brunette
when was the last time? I forget
radiation burns on the top of your cheeks
this is some rain, hell, i'd call it sleet
did you think there'd be a dragon?
did you think you'd swing your sword?
did you think about the ones you left?
about the ones still yet to come?
there's more to life than just the fight
Lord knows what you thought you'd do
and the Lord keeps his thoughts to himself
just like you're keeping your, too
I'll give you one of mine for free
I know that you don't need me.
I can only give you what I have
and I only want what you can give
I've been having this dream about collecting bones
up to Lake Banook, along the road
my roomate says that it's clear
I don't know, what I'm doing here
I'll give you one of mine for free
I know that you don't need me.
I can only give you what I have
and I only want what you can give
I've been having this dream about collecting bones
up to Lake Banook, along the road
my roomate says that it's clear
I don't know, what I'm doing here
I start to miss home
where yer smoking on the phone
yes, it's raining here as well
I've been having this dream about collecting bones
up to Lake Banook, along the road,
along the road
|
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2. |
You're Waiting
08:16
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|
poems / lyrics by Eli Wallis
You're Waiting
___________
you're waiting for the stars to go cold
the Fraser to run dry
for these trees to turn to coal
our only sun to die
cause then it'll be just you and I
floating through a void of silk and sighs
having fitful dreams of this awful life
from our sad cocoon in the night
sure go ahead and vote for trump
fuck the future, sign that loan
there's nowhere to go but up
I'm sure one day you'll feel at home
there's no where to go but up
there's no where to go but up.
you're waiting for the stars to go cold
and the Fraser to run dry
for these trees to turn to coal
our only sun to die
cause then it'll be just you and I
floating through a void of silk and sighs
having fitful dreams of this life
from our cocoon in the night
sure go ahead
sign that loan
there's nowhere to go but up
I'm sure one day you'll feel at home
you're waiting for the stars to go cold
and the Fraser to run dry
for these trees to turn to coal
and our only sun to die
cause then it'll be just you and I
It'll be just you and I
floating through a void
floating through a void of silk and sighs
having fitful dreams of this life
from our cocoon in the night
sure go ahead
sign that loan
there's nowhere to go but up
there's nowhere to go but up
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3. |
Thunderstorm
09:00
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|
poem / lyrics by Eli Wallis
Thunderstorm
-------------------
I'm just a thunderstorm, on Lake Huron
trying to write about you
but how can I write about you?
you say you're quitting again
and I think I might too
ants crawling along your floor
and your neighbour's crying
I'm just a thunderstorm, on lake huron
trying to write about you
but how can I write about you?
you say you're quitting again
and I think I might too
ants crawling along your floor
and your neighbour's crying
you used to tell me I'm home, I don't know what's changed
lightning flash on the lake, and you roll away
yeah, no, I'm okay, I just got smoke in my eye
just got smoke in my eye
is it a star, or just a satellite?
blinking a bit and then a yawn
then the cymbals wash, and the train overblow
and you're telling me something, with your eyes aglow
she's cutting your hair, once again
and bruce is at your feet
he barks with his whole body, and nips at your knees
he barks with his whole body, and nips at your knees
he barks with his whole body, and nips at your knees
I'm getting high again, yeah I'm trying to write again
but no matter what I do, the songs are still about you
"well, if you're the bear, I guess that I'm the steam
rising from last night's fire, doused with kokanee"
"that don't make a lick of sense, why do you talk like this?"
"I think it's stunted growth, or insecurity"
I'm getting drunk again, yeah I'm trying to paint again
You say you never see me in your dreams
You say you never see me in your new dreams
Remember the last time? I walked right through that lake
I came out dripping wet, flash of steel and bone
and then you yelled at me, wouldn't even drive me home
Well, that's not my knife
That's not my knife
That's not my knife, that's not my knife
Remember the last time, you asked how could I eat
all of that meat, coming out of a cage?
I said they know nothing else
to them their cramps are home
I'm just a thunderstorm, on Lake Huron
trying to write about you
but how can I write about you?
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4. |
Inside The Song
06:45
|
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5. |
Circle Each Other
08:45
|
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|
poem / lyrics by Eli Wallis
Circle Each Other
------------------------
sun blindingly beautiful
behind the grey-white dollop
of cloud
as a brisk wind blows golden ears still bone-dry
blue above the rolling fogtides
chilling the valley below
pale and jobless moon
hanging around in the afternoon
more or less three quarters full
pale and jobless moon
hanging around in the afternoon
more or less three quarters full
crow and seagull circle each other
each other,
in a muddy field
hunting for the same few crumbs
distant shelling
rippling tinglings
through far pocketbooks
too tired to think of war
pale green elephant
ear buds
broken through
remains of grass
to bare
fuzzy white flowers
the egg bounced off his shoulder without breaking
the sun today is a dab of white paint
on a sky otherwise uniform grey
here and there
stained a slightly darker shade
directions or cloud formations
small debts and false promises
names and faces of old classmates
there was a dervish in the street today
a tornado rendered fragile and small
it knocked a tropicana bottle from a blue bin
and danced it across the street
the egg bounced off his shoulder without breaking x3
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6. |
Jumpstart
06:00
|
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|
poem / lyrics by Eli Wallis
Jumpstart
-------------
but you and I, where are we heading?
but you and I, where are we heading?
our love ought to be the '93 Camry outside Walmart
getting a jumpstart
from an 150 lb. with a neck tattoo
wishing for a breeze
but it's blowing warm, quite very warm
but you and I, where are we heading?
our love ought not to be
the young guy sitting outside Walmart
in jeans and a hoodie sweating,
sores across his hands and face
drawing on the cement with soapstone,
just circles and triangles
wishing for a breeze, but it's blowing warm
quite very warm
you didn't want to do this to me,
you said and I know, I know
it's just circles and triangles, I know, I know, I know
but you and I, where are we heading?
our love ought to be the '93 Camry outside Walmart
getting a jumpstart
from an 150 lb. with a neck tattoo
wishing for a breeze
but it's blowing warm, quite very warm
but you and I, where are we heading?
our love ought not to be
the young guy sitting outside Walmart
in jeans and a hoodie sweating,
sores across his hands and face
drawing on the cement with soapstone,
just circles and triangles
wishing for a breeze, but it's blowing warm
quite very warm
you didn't want to do this to me,
you said and I knowI know I know
it's just circles and triangles, I know, I know, I know
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7. |
Circle
06:52
|
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poem / lyrics by Eli Wallis
Circle
------------------------
sun blindingly beautiful
behind the grey-white dollop
of cloud
as a brisk wind blows
golden ears still bone-dry
blue above the rolling fogtides
chilling the valley below
pale and jobless moon
hanging around in the afternoon
more or less three quarters full
crow and seagull circle each other
each other,
in a muddy field
hunting for the same few crumbs
distant shelling
rippling
tinglings
through far pocketbooks
too tired to think of war
pale green
elephant ear buds
broken through
remains of grass
to bare
fuzzy white flowers
mes thinks bebop because
you are the best thing ever
to reveal itself to mes x3
distant wailing of a train
steam rising from a bathroom
window in november rain
face lit only by streetlights
checkengine washerfluid
lowfuel light indicators
sad song of hands nails & teeth
blues to fire diron bronze
dirges for facesbooks & tweets
facesbooks & tweets
facesbooks & tweets
sad song of hands nails & teeth
|
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8. |
That's Not My Knife
06:43
|
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|
poem / lyrics by Eli Wallis
That's Not My Knife
--------------------------
You say you never see me in your dreams
Remember the last time?
I walked right through that lake
I came out dripping wet, flash of steel and bone
and then you yelled at me, Manny, Manny, Manny
wouldn't even drive me home
Well, that's not my knife
That's not my knife
That's not my knife, that's not my knife
Remember the last time, you asked how could I eat
all of that meat, coming out of a cage?
I said they know nothing else
to them their cramps are home
You say you never see me in your dreams
You say you never see me in your dreams
You say you never see me in your dreams
Remember Remember
Remember the last time?
I walked right through that lake
I came out dripping wet, flash of steel and bone
and then you yelled at me, wouldn't even drive me home
Well, that's not my knife
That's not my knife
Remember Remember
Remember the last time?
you asked how could I eat
all of that meat, coming out of a cage?
I said they know nothing else
to them their cramps are home
You say you never see me in your dreams
You say you never see me in your new dreams
Remember the last time?
I walked right through that lake
I came out dripping wet, flash of steel and bone
and then you yelled at me, wouldn't even drive me home
Well, that's not my knife
That's not my knife
Remember Remember Remember
Remember the last time, you asked how could I eat
all of that meat, coming out of a cage?
I said they know nothing else
to them their cramps are home
|
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9. |
Sweet Shrill
08:02
|
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|
poem / lyrics by Asad Dhaumya
Sweet Shrill
------------------------
hat, mask, keys, cellphone
all he had on his person
cell, hat, phone, keys, wallet, mask
did saint peter's katana
ever find its way back home
or did the servent stain it
with careless spurting blood
here his heinous witness ear
hearing things he should not hear
only great men hang upside down
dracula for one
or lying in a coffin
lid left slightly ajar
a jour a dar
a jar door
mussolini too, of course
both of those
in rome
peter with his axe
with noble steven on drums
one evening in rome
four days before the end
of yet another good morning
scent drenched in red wine
napalm drowning in mask keys hat phones
cell wallets
stuffed with queens prime minsters
and loons
lonely
viola desmond
with a crumpled bent faded ticket
godspeed to you !
black empress
saint peter does not screech
for hate of his own reeds
nor does he care for
tangles of roots
one evening in december
he will not bring a sword
with which to cleave their knots
simply screeching
through a saxophone
sweet shrill somethings
send jimmies shivering
stiff suits ringing
like a thief in the night
the infant
like a thief in the night
the infant stole himself away,
crawling headlong into a terrifying darkness,
with no coforts of the milky black of the womb.
four days before the end
of yet another good morning
scent drenched in red wine
napalm drowning in mask keys hat phones
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10. |
Without Breaking
05:36
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|
poem / lyrics by Eli Wallis
Without Breaking
-----------------------
the egg bounced off his shoulder without breaking
the sun today is a dab of white paint
on a sky otherwise uniform grey
the egg bounced off his shoulder without breaking
here and there
directions or cloud formations
stained a slightly darker shade
small debts and false promises
names and faces of old classmates
there was a dervish in the street today
a tornado rendered fragile and small
it knocked a tropicana bottle from a blue bin
and danced it across the street
the egg bounced off his shoulder without breaking
the sun shawn today is a dab of white paint
on a sky otherwise uniform grey
here and there
stained a slightly darker shade
directions or cloud formations
small debts and false promises
names and faces
of old classmates
there was a dervish in the street today
a tornado rendered fragile and small
it knocked a tropicana bottle from a blue bin
and danced it across the street
a tornado rendered fragile and small
it knocked a tropicana bottle from a blue bin
and danced it across the street
the egg bounced off his shoulder without breaking
a tornado rendered fragile and small
it knocked a tropicana bottle from a blue bin
and danced it across the street
the egg bounced off his shoulder without breaking
a tornado rendered fragile and small
it knocked a tropicana bottle from a blue bin
and danced it across the street
the egg bounced off his shoulder without breaking
the sun today is a dab of white paint
on a sky otherwise uniform grey
here and there
stained a slightly darker shade
|
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11. |
||||
|
poem / lyrics by Asad Dhaumya
Thief In The Knight
--------------------------
like a thief in the night
the infant stole himself away,
crawling headlong into a terrifying darkness,
with no coforts of the milky black of the womb.
he has 13 minutes left
before he would forget
the language of the angels,
as well as his role, in the upcoming mutiny.
our heavenly father,
drunk on creation,
has Saint Jude wearing the finest of cloths,
while his children remain naked and hungry.
in 11 minutes he will forget his role,
having chosen to relay Gabriel's message
instead of knowing the serenity of a stillbirth.
9 minutes, despair burrows inside him,
there is not enough time.
he whose name is a feeling and
not yet a word stills himself.
like a thief in the night
like a thief in the night
the infant stole himself away,
crawling headlong into a terrifying darkness,
with no coforts of the milky black of the womb.
he has 13 minutes left
he has 13 minutes left
he has 13 minutes left
before he would forget
the language of the angels,
as well as his role, in the upcoming mutiny.
poem / lyris by Eli Wallis
--------------------------------
Did you think there'd be a dragon?
Did you think you'd swing your sword?
Did you think about the ones you left?
About the ones still yet to come?
There's more to life than just the fight
Lord knows what you thought you'd do
And the Lord keeps his thoughts to himself
Just like you're keeping yours, too
I'll give you one of mine for free
I know that you don't need me
I can only give you what I have
and I only want what you can give
Did you think there'd be a dragon?
Did you think there'd be a dragon?
Did you think there'd be a dragon?
Did you think you'd swing your sword?
Did you think about the ones you left?
About the ones still yet to come?
There's more to life than just the fight
Lord knows what you thought you'd do
And the Lord keeps his thoughts to himself
Just like you're keeping yours, too
I'll give you one of mine for free
I know that you don't need me
I can only give you what I have
and I only want what you can give
there is more to life than just the fight
|
||||
In Fuse Vancouver, British Columbia
08/22/2022
Vancouver Art Gallery
750 Hornby Street Vancouver BC.
In Fuse music performance for Evelyn
Roth installation
10/15/2021
Vancouver Outsider Arts Festival
The Roundhouse Community Arts and Recreation Centre Theatre
In Fuse group music and dance performance.
07/21/2016
"Talking Trees"
Kits Community Hall, 2305 West 7th Ave. Vancouver.
In Fuse music performance and Dance.
... more
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