BLACK UNICORN

With lightning speed
ripping through infinity
I hear your clacking hooves
Your cursed truth
charging ivory horn
chasing your prophecy
Your heaving mist
attacks the air
Your feral mane
tremors in grace
I see your red demon eyes
ignite for the horizon
Black Unicorn.

This was inspired by David Bowie’s ‘Tis a Pity She Was a Whore from his latest album Blackstar. Rest in power Mr. Bowie.

 

Something in the Middle

Something In the Middle CoverMy band uploaded a new song on our myspace page. It’s called Something In the Middle.

I can’t remember the details which lead to  Something In the Middle. Maybe it was a day when one of us was so beaten down, that we just spilled all of our guts out.  Because that’s what we do when we’re together, we spill everything out, everything that is trying to kill us. We sing louder, play harder, speak in tongues. We joke that our band practices are really therapy sessions.

Anyway, Something In the Middle is probably one of our most political songs (other than our very visible presence as women playing rock music) on our line-up.

Oh wait, it’s coming back to me now, how it all began. I was talking about the issues surrounding gay rights, and Hanna (bass player and vocalist), or maybe it was Maggie (lead guitarist and vocalist), made a scathing remark which lead to a beat, to a riff, to a refrain…

The recording is homemade, live at our studio. It’s not as polished as our previous recordings, but I’m digging the rawness.  We used this really handy recorder that fits right in your pocket,  Olympus LS10.

You can listen here: Something In the Middle

Something also reminded me of a poem I wrote a couple of weeks ago.

Yeah!

when tomorrow is just tomorrow

when we know that our phenomenal experience

isn’t as immediate as the phenomena expected

where Yeah exists.

I hope that these impressions stay with you

like the scars dealt to me for being open

as long as you live

I hope you live with just that amount of fear

living, breathing, preparing yourself for an attack

as you sit calmly with someone’s else’s blood on your shit: maybe it’s your own

wishing they were gone

as you sit and wait for Yes

to magically appear?

I’m still going to have Metal beating through me tomorrow

I’m still going to text my lover, I heart yous, and still be under-represented

infected with insanity, perversion, illegality

until I’ve been completely molded into something accustomed

I, continues, growing into a form

a persuasion for pettiness

and oh, I thank you God for my nose, eyes, and ears

because I couldn’t have reckoned without them

I couldn’t have survived this Love.