Song O’ The Willamette

Seek ye sounds and hear the collective bugle calls!
O’ osprey n’ lumbering locomotive bawls
Hear its honking trombone plunger muted feature
Garbled warble like the voice of Charlie Brown’s teacher

The Drought of ’22

The body of missing teen found plastered over headlines
Barely mentioned, the lake and its 500 year low waterline

A society that buries itself in fantasy buying virtual land
Will eventually realize that our bodies cannot drink sand

Re: Redrum

A carnival of meats
Creaky carousels of subjugation
of the tortured and sentient
Wide eyed and scared
Naked and bleeding
Braised and bruised
Animal corpses splayed
On dinner plates

It’s Not All Doom And Gloom

Cops push out addicts
Living under bridges
Then talk them down
From jumping off them
Suicide rates are jumping
But it’s not all bad news
At least the stock market
Reached another high

Election Day

Every four years there’s this sporting event
Preceded by campaign promises and vows of roses
We choose our bread, circuses and the president
We mark our ballots while holding our noses

The Insane

I saw Jesus singing today
His salvation shivering
In the cold and the chill
His tent propped across
A rusty, red shopping cart
I feel his fixed, coiled eyes
Like a hypnotizing cobra
Daring me to look his way

Runaway Trains

There’s this divide
Thirty seconds wide
Trillions of commercials long
Most everyone I have ever met
Want to save the planet
While filling up with gas
Or vote to save the environment
But refuse to leave their cars

Some Kind Of Blue

The Prince of Darkness
Was beaten by the police today
His khaki suit and tie baring, crimson splat
From his head struck by a cop at Birdland
His blood gushed over like oil from a tanker
Tragic ballads of yesterdays and moon frowns
I still hear Morpheus skipping rocks across dreams
If I were a bell I’d toll for gone gone gone oceans

Reclamation

I once loved the city and its gleaming promise
Of slicked back, urbane haute cultured praxis
Circus sideshows, embonpoint and spectacle
Where cinereous clad clouds hover like buzzards

Happy Depressive Sounds: Cara’s Music Corner

o I’ve been having a difficult time lately with my depression or as I like to call it, my weltschmerz. The word weltschmerz is a German word that translates literally to world weariness. This describes the feeling that I get when the weight of the world bears down on me. Luckily, I have music to help get me past that feeling. In today’s episode of Cara’s Music Corner, I am going to talk about music that sounds as equally depressed as I am at times.

Mountain Mettle

Mountain don’t give a fuck
Way up there we must appear
Like nests of rustling ants and ticks
Scurrying about everywhere
Making jobs, lies and politics

The Abolition of the Automobile

So one of the most remarkable and hardest decisions that I have made recently was to sell my car. Obviously, for a lot of Americans the decision to sell their car would be unconscionable. It was a difficult one for me. I loved my car. However, there comes a time when the very act of ownership becomes a reinforced complicity in a failed and rapacious big oil paradigm that is predicated on the domination and exploitation of this place we call Earth.