Grapheme

by Christoper Noyes

Grapheme cover art
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released 18 October 2011

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Track Name: Children of the Pyramid Builders
"Children of the Pyramid Builders"

You better start with that first breath;
don't wait for the shot, 'cause odds are
you're already behind.
So help me heave another brick on my back;
we've got monoliths to leave,
and names to etch in stone.

It makes you wonder though, what good it all is,
when I'll be sleeping underneath it all when it's completed.

Hold on,
you mallard down,
you fickle runner,
you act as though you have fire at your heals.

Our liturgical words half heard and wholly misunderstood
were burned wood and dried vines of a ledger
and we were young, oh much too young
to speak on such things.
But up and up, oh I push, though I traded my
chains for a rock,
a rock for a skill,
a skill for a look and a thought,
and silver and gold in the form of applause.

So call out, for you alone know my name,
not that ugly thing I wear, nor the tags I boast.
Oh call out, for it does resound on all the cheaply used
upon these harlot ears.
Please call out, make brides of every unclean,
rusty little rings, with carnations in our hair.
So call out, oh what you've made in secret:
A dress of every pearl, that bridges every distance.
Track Name: Grapheme
"Grapheme"

I am wearing all this history:
every letter tied to an army of lead kites.
Every kite tied to a nation of signs.
Every sign pulling a definition.

Words are sails only working with the wind of meaning.

On mountain peaks, the plates beneath;
when they move, we move,
though all we see are the tree tops, or the white snow.
Explain the earthquake to the redwood or the foxhole…?
You could lose your mind.

Come gather creatures, all you crawling things.
Tonight we make fire, tonight we shout up with the embers!
Come gather mud and leafs! We'll wake this forest tonight
with the sound of our hoofs!

No one will make us forget.
No one will ever tame us.
From wild we came,
And wild we'll go.
Track Name: ia
"ia"
I muster up to say,
"Salt shake, earthquake, which way?"
like a blanket spun with the muscle in my mouth.
With bellyaches you state,
"My gate, no fate, I wont wait!"
more like a cake set at the table
in the spot for the green beans and mashed potatoes.

The hammer and the gleam of fire hot-enough-to-smelt
made us shutter terribly with every stroke that fell.
The shouts we wove and wore as coats;
up from our throats, came bitter notes:
We held more close to our ideas then we did our friends,
and those we said we loved
only meant as much as the office or position held
in relation to ourselves,
a compass bearing survival.


Now you're armor in the corner.
This whole place makes me wonder.
You can't help but defend against bows who lay long unbent.
And that burden we now share, welded ardently;
teared but ever tangled;
tied though
separately.

Love, not me but a suit.
Love, not me but a name.
Love, not me but the wild we'd tame.
Making doors out of branches,
dressing up nice in the woods like we own the place.
Love, not me, no it's a dream that puts your head back
north searching for that star. To whom you wish,
"Send a pair of eyes, single visioned, script reading.

Come lay down mortar. Come breaking bread.
There's oil for the lanterns, and hope for the dead.
Track Name: Bob, Alice, and Heisenberg
"Bob, Alice, and Heisenberg"

Tower of Hanoi;
Recursion: a Folding Cup,
and what "touch" do these slowed-lights allow?
For we do know which way they roll: the orbits, held in triangle hands of cause.

So do You then know, which way my tongue rolls?
Goldberg-free will: illusion of choice.

(But I can see, and observation seems pointless if I'm watching myself.
So why am I aware I can see,
and what lonely will interacts with itself?)

Where they are, how fast they go,
such slight of hand. To never know
is room for collaboration: to sneak it in-between the syllables.
To play croquet with hedgehogs and flamingos:
you hit the ball, but it decides which way to roll.


Is that Your gift?
is that what You hide your eyes from?
The room for improvisation:
to dance with a partner:
uncertainty.


We will refrain from words until the context is collected and again grants, like a stage can to an opera,
the understanding of what's really being said.

We wake, we will, with silence to fill.
Embraced by a void,
we stand out in the contrast.
We are detached and thus given
the autonomy of choice.
(union can only exist between two or more distinct, separate things.)
Track Name: You chose Terra-Cotta over Tungsten
"You chose Terra-Cotta over Tungsten"


"Come stomp your feet,
show you teeth,
puff your chest,
you know you wanna."
Orange Tree, yelling, "Apple-seed come break your back,
You'd better crack! Come, where's your lime? Where's your lemon?
Come bear some thing for them to see!"
(yelling so loud and long winded, you never had time
for bearing much fruit on your own.)
And you strut so comfortably so.
And I'm shaking…
Well I'm tired of shaking.
I am a liar,
all broken armed from painting bone hues all my life.
Yes, I am a liar, and hiding doesn't make me any cleaner.

Choking for the image sake I can barely operate.
Cast the pavlov-anklets and loose the self-preserving-me.
Let me be weak.

Stomp your feet,
show your teeth,
puff your chest,
you know you wanna
Stomp your feet, ("Come you weak,)
show your teeth, (come be free,)
puff your chest, (come to me,)
you know you wanna. (you're all I want.")
"Come be weak,
come be free,
come to me,
you're all I want."