If I Was The Planet Mars

If I was the planet Mars
I’d break free from the Sun’s hold
And escape into the dark cold
Forge a path into the vast black
and never, ever, ever come back

Turn Out The Lights

Somewhere the party never stopped
Somewhere the 7th floor of the Sheraton
in Madison, Wisconsin is still shaking its head
Gathering its tables and chairs up from outside

Somewhere there are still packed music venues
With sweaty teenagers hanging on every note
By just word of mouth and zero promotion
Somewhere the ice cream man ain’t talkin bout love

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

Magoa

Her face weathers with patina
A spavined statue left vulnerable
To past atrocities, disappointment
And the relentless passage of time
Like the portrait of Dorian Grey
Whose worn canvas painted smile
Became a reflection of men’s sins
Turned farther and farther down

Word Salad

Dressing up for a date beginning, middle and final examinations, midterms, midwifery, DNA tests I flunked the last one I took, yep still a big Y on the, Marc! Set! Grow! a pair of aces beats my queens, and kings and guillotines sluiced deer entrails are offal but make bloody omens beware the ides ofContinue reading “Word Salad”

Cara’s Music Corner (Part II)

My boyfriend said listening to Bell Witch is like going to the bathroom. You probably don’t want to spend too much time in there. It’s best just to get in, enjoy the release and then get the hell out. I think he mostly referred to the low sounding vocals and growls. But on an existential level, the same could be said for mourning and grief. I only hope the next time I have to visit that paradoxical space it will be just as tortured, beautiful and epiphanic as listening to a Bell Witch song.

Undefined

Watching the sun set every dusk
in my office between six inches
of drywall, stucco and glass
Rays wander through like roots
effortlessly pressing my soul
against the clear window
Life is breath to breath
and in this very moment
I only want to warm myself
with the last gasp of today

A Eulogy for Neil Peart: We Have Assumed Control

I feel like Cygnus has died. I feel like the balance is no longer there. Rock is truly dead. The priests of the Temple of Syrinx wrested away a huge part of my past. There won’t be another time when distortion and the electric guitar is first discovered, Just like the way of the saxophone, and the dodo and thus the time of the electric guitar has now passed…