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Truth is a bullet thought dressed in rags

Posted in delphi, Exo-Politics, lyrics, poetry, Spirituality, Traveling with tags , on July 6, 2009 by skyscraped

with its head between the finger and the trigger.
An opinion does not kill or maim
An idea has no weapon
An apocalypse is a revelation
not Death, destroyer of worlds.

Don’t tell me not to have an opinion
on genocide.
Don’t tell me not to have an opinion
when leaders rob children of their human rights.
Remember, Gaza?
Remember, Guantanamo?
Do you really want to put your faith in Hope?
Or how about in that elusive bullet,
Truth, the mist of a strange gun,
the smoking mirror, the grassy knoll hit man,
the Mossad death squads, the Iran Contras,
the MK Ultra sex slave apprentices,
the Montauk time captives,
the 17 of the 19, the Building Sevens,
and the coincidences
that I don’t believe are coincidences?
Feed my mind the whole grain, not the processed;
Give me info-shamanic organic non-material, non-matter
because it does
not
matter.

Your country does not matter
Your anthem does not matter
Your judgment does not matter.

I feel more connection to a Muslim in the Middle East
than to the ravings of a Sunday School priest class.

Fake nails that don’t scratch the surface
Music sung out your ass.

Shut up.

You have destroyed the Revelation before it’s begun.

But there’s a handful of others who have opinions for guns
and they wield them delicately, carving the air
bulletproof; gunslingers of the last days
Children of the Wasteland, falling away
and against the ebb and flow of the peace train
that’s just a swan song when you chip off the paint.

Truth is a bullet thought, slicing the air;
Challenging the brainpan
to remain intact.

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Fault Lines

Posted in delphi, lyrics, music, poetry, song with tags , , , , , , , on June 19, 2009 by skyscraped

new song, out soon.
Copyright 2009 Cheryl Anderson

Oh, Jimi, why?
Why are there lights
moving my pen
whenever I write
This is the time
Watch the fault lines
They’ll act like our kind
but they’re dead inside

Oh, you know, you know, you know it
Oh, you know, you know

I count 69 spirals inside
216 million points of light
The rose is on fire
in the tower tonight
I’ll give all my love
to carry it right

Carry it, I’ll carry it, sweet chariot
sweet chariot, take me, take me home

Your Mother’s on fire if your darkness is your light
Gonna take a little ride into paradise
got a merman sittin’ shotgun 1983
we got directions from a message given to me
Pay attention, little girl, hold out your hand
said the Devil to the Angel of the Promised Land
Well I’ll never stop lookin’ for the glass in the sand
And I’ll never give my heart to a dying man

You know the fault lines trigger the chorus to descend
You know the fault lines trigger the chorus to descend
You know the fault lines trigger the chorus to descend

The fault lines trigger the chorus to descend
And the words become real if we sing ‘em
You can channel anything, why don’t you then?
All the real ones did, what happened to them?

Call up the sky
ask for a light
‘Scuse me while I
take this ride
back to the beach
where the stars first met me
where the sky is clean
See ya round, Jimi

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If you ever really wanted to know

Posted in poetry with tags , , , , , on June 10, 2009 by skyscraped

I am not the portrait drawn of me.
the voiceless mouth, the flawless skin;
the shades of red in my lips are not so noticeable
unless I’ve been in the throws of some mad conversation.

I am not the apple-picker.
I do not force you to eat forbidden fruit;
my sins are my own.

And my legs; mine to walk halfway
between worlds like the clockwork of planets
following invisible threads.
My hands, mine to break the air
with gunshot notes
from the hammered voice of an old piano.

I am, however, every teacher
who has brought me closer
to the Invisible College.

I am every line of every book
that changed my molten core.

I am a gift of another’s self-sacrifice and time;
I am the pain of their sleepless nights,
their worried hearts, their noble concern.

I am the byproduct of their compassion, and their madness.

Compassion to care more for the world
than for their own comfort, or security;
madness to believe the world
might offer something in return.

For the world
looks at madness
like a tumor to be removed.

I am not the bringer of light to dark places,
but the broken clay jar
with its mildewed scrolls
placed hesitantly inside of me.

In compassion,
I honor their names.
In madness,
I offer my own.

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Witch’s Apprentice

Posted in delphi, music, poetry, song with tags , , , , , , on June 7, 2009 by skyscraped

I dreamed I was a witch’s apprentice
but she didn’t know my true name
I learned all her spells too quickly for a novice
And it sent her into such a rage

So I ran to you but you were with another
piece of pretty meat on your bed
I cried out but you wouldn’t listen
cause the hair between your fingers it was red, red, red
yeah the hair between your fingers, it was red

I ran to a bar that should’ve been condemned
by the Dream Police ten years ago
A bird headed lady sat next to a Jackal
and they whispered in tones so low:

“Go to the fire, girl, and raise your fist in the air
It’s not too late to know you are alive
Don’t trust the water, and don’t drink the wine
The prettiest things are made of lies, lies, lies
yeah the prettiest things are made of lies.”

So I hopped a train heading out East of Eden
West into the Land of Nod
An old vagabond with the skull of a Thunderbird
emerged from the shadowed boxcar

He looked like hell but said to call him Shakespeare
he knew every line of every play
He spoke in sonnets to the Dark Lady
Who taught him how to hop the dream train
He said:

“Go to the fire, girl, and raise your fist in the air
It’s not too late to know you are alive
Don’t trust the water, and don’t drink the wine
The prettiest things are made of lies, lies, lies
yeah the prettiest things are made of lies.”

I landed in a field of corn people
who’d just woken up from Creation
They couldn’t see but they could still remember
A time when they were not separate

Then the field opened up and the dream came down
We saw a city inside a fiery lake
And the angels of the earth and the fire spirits
All screamed in fits of jealousy

AND I RAN to the fire
And raised my fist in the air
Cause it’s not too late, I know that I’m alive
I won’t drink your water
Or trust your wine
and the pretty things you tell me
they are lies, lies, lies
All the prettiest things are made of lies.

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Fall Down and Breathe

Posted in delphi, lyrics, music, poetry, song, Spirituality, Traveling with tags , , , , , , , on May 28, 2009 by skyscraped

You say, “Go and talk to the sky
It never questions you in the slightest,
but down hear all you’ll find
are the people you’ve disappointed.”
So I went up to the roof
where there wasn’t a moon
or any other light to guide me
Just a black expanse so starving,
and it told me:

Fall down and breathe
Fall down and see what you are meant to see
Fall down the ground is a ceiling you have never touched before
Fall down and breathe

It takes a lot of nerve to stop lying to yourself
while the lies people the world and the truth stays locked on a shelf
In some dusty hall underground, I’d rather rot in hell
than miss another piece of knowledge or
forget those distant bells

And every time I am away I find a peace inside, I know it’s just a ride
This tiny life I call mine
I know my part is just a cog in the Great Wheel of Time
I know that somewhere there is someone
who gets these lines

Fall down and breathe
Fall down and see what you are meant to see
Fall down, the ground is a ceiling you never touched before
Fall down and breathe

So I climbed into bed, alone again with the moment
No god but God around me, the mystery of nothing
And the notes just out of reach played a cosmic sonnet
I’ve heard this song since I was born, but I have never sung it

Fall down and breathe
Fall down and see what you are meant to see
fall down, the ground is a ceiling you never touched before
Fall down and breathe

Fall down and breathe

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for the Tribe

Posted in delphi, lyrics, poetry, song, Spirituality with tags , , , , on May 28, 2009 by skyscraped

I’ve seen the sky over the Saint Lawrence open up
and change into the one from my dreams
I’ve seen Heaven open in a lover’s heart that I have never touched
and never had to bleed
I know that this road I’m on is the only one that will really let me see
and I’ll allow it to take me completely
I’ll allow it to take me completely

Yeah, Shangri La’s in a backyard garden
a desert woman taught that to me
And Mecca isn’t in the sand
it is under the waves hidden by the Red Sea
I will always have a loving heart
for the sojourner who tears the world a part
I will always have a space inside
for the seeker who searches and who
never finds

For the love of Truth she moves,
she hides behind enemy lines
waiting for her turn to spread the light
She gathers in the darkest nights and the saddest hearts
and makes them beautiful for all the world to find
I have met so much Tribe in my one lifetime
that I can’t shut my eyes
when I see those familiar signs

Yeah, Shangri La’s in a backyard garden
a desert woman taught that to me
And Mecca isn’t in the sand
it is under the waves hidden by the Red Sea
I will always have a loving heart
for the sojourner who tears the world a part
I will always have a space inside
for the seeker who searches and who
never finds

I’ve seen the coastline fade into sky
as we got high on top of Arthur’s Seat
And I’ve seen a lot of this world but I still forget
the way the Veil swirls when
a brother, sister, lover, I meet
It works in a backwards way, and I don’t really care
it’s not in the face, but in the blood that pumps
through our veins.

Yeah, Shangri La’s in a backyard garden
a desert woman taught that to me
And Mecca isn’t in the sand
it is under the waves hidden by the Red Sea
I will always have a loving heart
for the sojourner who tears the world a part
I will always have a space inside
for the seeker who searches and who
never finds

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Tune In

Posted in delphi, lyrics, poetry, song with tags , , , , , , , on May 15, 2009 by skyscraped

New song, out Fall 2009
Copyright 2009 Cheryl Anderson

I could write a song about love being lost
beneath the paranoid illusions of my thoughts
give me a pen, tell me how much time I got
to be the next number One girl

I could give a fuck about your top hit charts
you raped the revolution, sold it back as spare parts
I’m gonna hit you hard with everything that I got
and if you don’t wanna hear then turn it off

Turn in
your national pin
Tune out
your television
Drop out
of your indoctrination
This is the time of the Revelation
Tune in
your intuition
Turn on
your Divine Intervention
Drop out
of a dying system
and follow your soul to the Revolution

I could tell ya what I know about their plans
hatched all the way back trying to recreate Eden
united in peace with no individual freedom
but the Truth is harder to believe than fiction

So I’ll spin you a tale from my imagination:
13 families rule it all and we feed ‘em
arcane rituals on the battlefield to satiate ‘em
and one day they decided we should go and pray to ‘em

and Religion was born from a man turned God
off-earth bred to make us fear what they are
encoded in the scriptures on the pyramid walls
encased in the stones of the Masonic halls

I read
The Book of the Dead
I’ve seen
Their symbols in my dreams
I feel
This is more than what it seems
and if we don’t pay attention
they’ll rewrite

History
is a spoken-word piece
the Truth
didn’t make it in the story
Underneath
your King James version
Reality is much more insane and amazing

So if I seem aloof to your Inquisition
it’s because this Veil is getting thin
I opened a journal I wrote when I was a kid
and the words that flowed out, I knew it then

So listen up
to your pineal gland
Not your cock or your preacher or your dumbass friends
If you’re interested in Enlightenment then come in
cause your heart is the only thing you should put faith in

If you’ve been caught laughing through this pain
and if you see what could become of this place
then stand the fuck up and show your face
Don’t matter your class, creed or your race

Turn in
your national pin
Tune out
your television
Drop out
of your indoctrination
This is the time of the Revelation
Tune in
your intuition
Turn on
your Divine Intervention
Drop out
of a dying system
and follow your soul to the Revolution

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Long Countdown

Posted in delphi, lyrics, music, poetry with tags , , , , , on May 15, 2009 by skyscraped

New song, out sometime in Fall 2009
copyright 2009 Cheryl Anderson

Well we carve our hearts into the concrete stars
and the railroad tracks beyond the penitentiary bars
of the city we talk about leaving far
behind like our bad habits blowin’ on a clothes line
I used to fall in love with everyone
but I only trust those who don’t ever run
away from the truth and away from my mind
If I’m moving fast you better be by my side
when the gloaming lights of the sun enter night
when Mercury descends and the books can’t write
this world from the wrongs and all of my songs
start screaming from the calendars, this is the Long…

Countdown honey…
Count down honey
The Long Countdown honey, better move on…

You point to a light moving up in the sky
They can’t tell me that this is all in my mind
There’s too much laughter from the man behind
the mask so you better start swingin’ from a strong vine
Or they’ll lower you to a source of food
fuel for the Beast under which their world moves
so if you write your fiction, tell the Truth
cause those who say they know it are lying to you

And the dogs of war are crying for more
Don’t let them get close to the door
you don’t have to fight, just don’t ignore
all the signs all around, crashing through the storm

Countdown honey…
Count down honey
The Long Countdown honey, better move on…

So what if you’ve got a violent side?
All of us got it in us to be the bad guy
Just kiss me again and hold me tight
and all that has been done wrong will come round right…

Countdown honey…
Count down honey
The Long Countdown honey, better move on…

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The Name

Posted in poetry with tags , , , , , on April 5, 2009 by skyscraped

And every month I bleed out a piece of me
five days revelation of the seed of me
Bow my head to the moon and sing Glory B
flat the song of the black hole song in me
We are trees planted, skins of wood and souls that stretch
from below the world into the next
Electricity in our leaves, we bend magnetic, prophetic
talismans predicting the lowering and return of the sun
with every sapling spring bloom;

I see it in you–

the gold green shoots rising out of your fingertips
your lips spread like open flower beds
thirsty for the rain to come.

We are the forests that grow on the Sun.
We stood tall in Cydonia when Mars was a blue planet
our multitude harkening the angels down in spaceships
like the tablets of the Beatitude; but it is in altitude
where base metal becomes gold, you must carry it proudly
in your heart and let it go;
It is the sudden spring snow gilding saplings to their souls,
the crow’s cry as she reads the new Testament during Ramadan
to druidic chants making peace with Kali, fasting holy for the feast.

Every month I bleed, five days of revelation
The abortion of a selfish imposed retaliation:

The truest Truths we hold, we know them close,
but set them aflame just to see if they’ll still grow.

But the seed knows the difference between photosynthesis and pyromania;
it craves the warmth and even up in flames
it remains, till the charring fat around it melts away
leaving only the Name,
leaving only the Name.

2 Comments »

What’s REALLY going on in Gaza

Posted in News, poetry with tags , , , , , , on January 5, 2009 by skyscraped

Raw Story has picked up a shocking video shot in Gaza on Saturday during the Israeli invasion.

Be warned, this is NOT an easy video to watch. But be grateful that at least the real story is getting out. Never again. Remember that line? Never again. Remember. That. Line.

Don’t know what to say
anymore
the sun is slinking low
and I’m wild with rage and knowledge
that’s burning through the floor
of this old crippled house,
this wheel and mouse,
this cycle coming slow,
I hang my head for the bloody shed
where the body hangs
swing low

Sweet chariot, come home
Swing low
Sweet honey-cup, clean the wounds of war
Swing low
Sweet golden rope
that we may climb once more
Swing low
Sweet revolting heart
beat the drums and soar

Up above
the carnage ends
in silent stardust paigns
and holy chariots
they spin
in peace the song of names
of every child
and every man
who ever stood the flame
and every woman who lost her sigh
to screams and Satan’s chains

Swing low

Sweet chariot, come home
Swing low
Sweet honey-cup, clean the wounds of war
Swing low
Sweet golden rope
that we may climb once more
Swing low
Sweet revolting heart
beat the drums and soar

1 Comment »

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