The Staggering Marionette

If my poems had lips they would hide in your pout like secret honey
A whispered cache of melody dripping away in a sea of awkward noise

Like The Insides Of A Piano

I am the knotted insides of a piano
I sound how my guts are strung up
Once eloquent like the way antelope run
Or how wind sculpts fresh snow into drifts

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

Summer Air

Clinquant melodies of scattering leaves and seed Soughing plaintively between sunburned hollows Like perfumed tiny tourists from a passing charabanc Their lilacs’ scent of sweet sillage lingers for a puff Leaving painted imaginary doodles of agitated air behind Foregathering in the wakes of napes, and marooned nooks Of plumped and ripened orange bursting splurt lilyContinue reading “Summer Air”

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.

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

When The Music’s Over: The Death of Live Music

Shit got real on March 12th when I found out that Governor Brown of Oregon issued a ban on all events over 250 people on the evening of March 11th due to the coronavirus. I was supposed to go to Tool along with my partner and his two kids later the very next evening. Their subsequent cancellation felt like a punch in the stomach.

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.

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…