Omaha

rae indigo — Sun, 15 Jun 2008 12:56:06 GMT

Omaha so i sang a song to the night i was hitchhiking thru omaha i wanted to paint pictures with my words, my rasp instead i howled at a sillouette of the moon it was really a tear drop that escaped my well poised poetry it slipped down, down, into another american town a wet tear on a torn white gown a sillouette of the moon against another blue jean swoon, filled with closet junkies, christian flunkies, truck drivers and hussies flippin their faith at the moon cause jesus aint supposed to be of this world so you can flip him around a lot i notice he ends up as the conversation cap-er on many an indulgent point i guess his tears never became sand, like all of ours he never howled at that gypsy moon. or did he? i like to think he howled as good as the rest of us at least omaha is flat, like a guitar sounds at 3am, after the dew settled after the cold soaked past the sunshine that was soaked into the grass after 200 hundred headlights come round the bend back there and snaked ahead, daring the next sway of the road daring life to take you away nebraska is america tears are america gypsies are america but the moon is haunting the earth and she isn't only america flashing this land back a smile on a mountain rack chasing ripples across a midnight lake its quite a scene to overtake well, i had big big dreams i tried to build a boat to sail them in but everyday i wake up, and i see the wood lying there the shell i built wants to float, to be cast out, it knows what it was built for.... but the water would only come in thru the skeleton sinking swiftly and soundly to the bottom without the flesh to keep the wet out it would be home to the urchins and sea grass you see, like all artists, my dreams need a body a body to be on the earth, of the earth, of the mystic. a birth, so they can at least be able to Die properly, please so i can rest with them, instead of being driven across this continent by these haunting voices, visions, dreams, repercussions ah, to really rest would scare me more than my dreams haunting, i guess. so artist i must onward go. so everyday i wake, and it starts to seem like the same day, replay my jeans a little more worn, my spirit a little more torn my hands covered in ash, makeup, hairdye, pain white rings where my rings rest round little fingers of unrest white life where something was supposed to unfold, untold white noise like dissadence, in the space where melody was supposed to guide harmony maybe it is the way the prairie waves wash me clean clean like the gypsy soul that tramps and rides across nebraska omaha was a passing flame, a stolen kiss before i climbed up high to ride across the prairie into the white noise night of life

The Devil Takes HIs Drag....

rae indigo — Sun, 15 Jun 2008 12:46:54 GMT

The Devil takes His Drag.... Stripped down by the morning sun. Another day has just begun, but I catch it from the nights turn. I see my love on a jilted hill He sits and drinks and sings his fill To the emptied masses. I saw you in the underworld, You were wearing a string of pearls, and diamonds in your hair But alas, the world had stripped me bare And I had only sand and broken fingers, standing there And tangles in my hair. Do you remember that? Do you? I saw you there. An angel at the wishing well You held a bell that sounded hell And a cigarette from heaven. You told me it was rock and roll That all good things rang their toll And I should just start living. I felt a heartbeat in my chest, This subtle yearning in my breast to rise and swell, ride and crest And the waves came crashing down. Who was I to take the devils call? I thought I was the bride to hell. I wished it in the wishing well But you rang your bell…. And the devil took his drag. And now again I'm washed ashore With wrinkled hands and clothes all torn My hair is dirty and my body sags I only want to escape this sack The devil took his drag. A washed up hag. I saw you at the wishing well You held a bell that sounded hell And a cigarette from heaven. You told me it was rock and roll Every single kiss you stole Every scream, every giggle, every innocent wiggle oh how our life tickled... But all good things ring their toll, As all things holy surely know, a cigarette from heaven. The devil takes his drag.

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Omaha

The Devil Takes HIs Drag....