1. |
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beneath the glance of heaven, before the closing bell,
began the new repentance between the host and the hell
between the host and the hell
bespectacled the blind man; bestowed the gifts of bravery
beside the river jordan, belayed the ropes of slavery
belayed the ropes of slavery
behind the scrim of nightfall, below the moon and the stars
bereft of time and its measure
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2. |
Montgomery
04:30
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Wake up there, Montgomery Wise.
Grab your journal, say goodbyes.
The state they told us you’re a free man now
Sign these papers, keep the pen,
it’s time to go back home again
I do believe you made it, take a bow…
The warden asked to wish you well
He’s off today but I could tell
He really cared, even recognized your name
Now Nora packed a sandwich and
A bag of chips, a soda can
She’ll miss your commissary poker game
Mind your manners, don’t be cruel
Montgomery, don’t play the fool.
You and I, we’ve memorized this tune
Mind the law and the golden rule
Montgomery, don’t play the fool.
You and I we both know … we’ll see you soon.
Here’s a $50 bill, keep it safe and use it well
Things cost more back in our neighborhood
A change of clothes, a burner phone
to call your kin, nobody home,
Well that’s ok the walk will do you good
Past the bridge, you’ll see the bay…
A footpath’s there, to walk away;
It’ll lead you back to town
The Dairy Queen: it never hires …
It’s cotton fields or changing tires
find a small motel and hunker down.
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3. |
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i’m spinning plates on sticks, hardly looking back at all
when i get to six the first one begins to fall
i turn my back, i face the crowd, they draw their breath
it makes them uncomfortable
by the time i get to eight, have i spun the last plate?
i go back to the one-two-three,
keep my planet rotating happily
i’m spinning plates on sticks, i know it is a minor role
but hard work ain’t my bag of tricks,
wouldn’t touch it with a ten foot pole
i don’t look back as often as the crowd would like
it makes them uncomfortable
by the time i get to nine, i have just enough time
i go back to the one-two-three
keep my planet rotating happily
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4. |
Chicago
03:23
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yesterday’s a canceled check
a yellow faded paper sunset
tomorrow’s just a promissory note
to borrow from the promises spoken
today’s a 20 pressed inside my palm
to be spent and gone before too long
walking in any other town
no lakeshore drive, no eiderdown
tell me: do you still love this place
appreciating your chicago
shotgun brownstone past the campus quad
you lived alone and contemplated god
insulated waiting for a proof
never wishing to defend the truth
your words and walls identical in style
painted with that cheap sarcastic smile
walking out with a a prayer for you
please give me back your point of view
tell me do you still love this place
appreciating your chicago
(for the love)
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5. |
Aurelia in Blue
02:24
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6. |
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belting out his borrowed song
when all the other birds just’a come and gone
son take a lesson from the mockingbird
(you gotta) keep on singing if you wanna be heard
don’t give up, don’t give up, don’t give up on yourself
now lonesome is as lonesome does
listen to the calling of the morning doves
i feel em, i know em, i get their pain
hands in my pockets walking in the rain
don’t give up, don’t give up, don’t give up on yourself
canary in a coal mine catching her breath
crooked crow laughing at Death
“Hold fast your dreams because if they die,
life’s a broken-wing bird that cannot fly” [Langston Hughes]
i’ve known darkness; i’ve had my fill
a nightowl soaring past my window sill
sparrow: she visits when i need her the most
like a sacred apparition from a holy ghost
belting out his evening song
when all the other birds just’a come and gone
daughters take a lesson from the mockingbird
keep on singing if you wanna be heard
don’t give up, don’t give up, don’t give up on yourself
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7. |
Bleeding Out
03:28
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the kids walk the tracks near the Leadville rails
under Encinal moon when the powerline fails
the Red River curve at the Gainesville Pass
near the barbed wire fence in the Indiangrass
boys will be boys and the girls had ‘em running
he never saw the fenceline, never saw it coming
the scream of the child who ran into the barbs
and the red from his neck as he ran on for yards
Momma’s in the basement, can’t hear him cry
Daddy’s with the bottle, just too drunk to drive
it’s up to you, son, get him into town,
keep the tourniquet tight and the gas pedal down
it’s up to you, son, make it all right
keep the gas pedal down and the tourniquet tight
never tried to manage an automobile
twelve years old, one hand on the wheel
station wagon fired up, flew like a bird
the needle hit ninety and the night sky blurred
past the Red River bend, south of Wichita Lane,
past the silvery dust near the Santa Fe train,
the emergency room flickered neon blue
just carried him in; nothing more you could do
but return to the house and hope trouble would pass
near the Potter’s Creek Road with the wire in the grass
it was up to you, son; (you) got him into town,
kept the tourniquet tight and the gas pedal down
it was up to you; son, turn out the light
kept the gas pedal down and the tourniquet tight
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8. |
Halfway Around the World
03:33
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it’s summertime, I’m walking blind,
Am I more than your punchline?
Back in town, I’m back in town,
Broadsided and broken down
How can you not remember
The way we felt in September
The world breathlessly waiting
How can it all be fading
Hand in hand we ran through the station
Hearts beat til our destination
Blurred night and lights in the taxi
A quiet kiss in the back seat
i followed you halfway around the world
didn’t know i didn’t see
all that was in front of me
I did not know all your dreams
I didn’t know what was blossoming
but i followed you, i followed you
halfway around the world
(Remember me, Halfway around the world)
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9. |
Limerent Trance
02:48
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10. |
Down, Down, Down
06:52
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11. |
Long Arm of the Lord
04:18
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A my father was a tailor, though he longed to be a sailor
so he sewed me a captain’s coat he could not afford
all my sibling’s clothes were duller but this shone with sacred color
like the sleeves belonged on the long arm of the Lord
the long arm of the Lord
A abandoned by my brothers and mistreated by the others
i was stripped and thrown to the bottom of a wishing well
but a stronger force withdrew me from the hole in which they threw me
was i lifted up by the long arm of the Lord
the long arm of the Lord
in the night i’ve often fretted about the ways i’m stubborn-headed,
dreams of running away or the ghosts that i’m running toward
but in the darkness she consoled me, in the morning light she told me
i’d been wrestling the long arm of the Lord
the long arm of the Lord
not a phone booth for confession not a bed for my depression
so i’ll ink it up and tie it with a seventh chord
it’s not a headline for the pages not a story for the ages
i’m just a small tattoo on the long arm of the Lord
the long arm of the Lord
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Paul Soupiset San Antonio, Texas
Paul Soupiset [SOUP • a • ZAY] is a graphic designer, illustrator, painter, poet, editor, typophile, songwriter, liturgist, and armchair theologian. Paul makes his home in San Antonio where he was born in 1969.
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