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Battle Flowers

by David Brown

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1.
On Paper 03:47
You've got a seasoned little heart, and you say it's in pain. It makes me wonder what you're doing in your day to day. Do you answer your mother's phone calls? Do you understand your own short falls? Is your pulse erratic, is there something on the line? On paper you don't get a say But on paper you're fine. I've got a Little Egyptian accent, true. I talk slowly but it's fast enough for you. I drop a syllable here and there. I could be eloquent, but I'd rather swear. It's conversational, I use it when it's right. On paper it seems so affected But on paper it's fine. A dog is yowling through the day and through the night. The birds are landing to my left and to my right. I say a silent little spell just to keep them where they are. They hop and flutter little distances around my neighbor's car. They clean their brilliant crimson plumage on the telephone line. On paper their images are shaky, but on paper they're fine.
2.
Dolores was jumping in the aisles, shouting skyward But the beams of the new sanctuary Were covered with a pale, pale plaster and a roof Perhaps her incantations made it through Dolores kicked off her new shoes But her pew-mates tucked them neatly underneath In the shadow of the seat closest to the stage The sermon, it dissolved and transformed into revival But we new the now free-form Would keep our spirits warm And that our houses could wait And so too could the homemade banquet food with forks and plates We weren't approaching, but coaxing down the gates They would descend. We could be late.
3.
The Earth is turning, and it's likely you know. Spin 'round your room -- a perspective show. You cup your ears as the train whistle blows Hedging a bet: rotation reverses flow. We were children of the universe on a chemical binge But now we're Pharaohs of adult lower-class And we can feel the lines on the map If we bother to trace them with our pens. Every generation's overrated at best. We're playing lousy hands and close to the chest. Telling half truths and we're making up the rest. A glassy-eyed fuck, like a signal path test. And no, we may not care, but we cannot forget. We're medicated, maybe, but our memories don't reset.
4.
Song For Kev 03:36
The rusted red roof of the shed is alive It's crawling with shadows A dance in the light Between both our houses a shotgun of grass is bending and twirling, alight? All day. Silently standing in nobody's way. The swing faces east and it moves in the wind I'd write you a letter but I just can't begin My soul, if I have one, is joyous and full Though my pockets are empty And I know this world can be cruel All day. Silently standing in nobody's way. Locked arms on the beach, just south of L.A. In front of the frigid March waters that day Roadside attractions of desert roads rear-viewed and fading away All day. Silently standing in nobody's way.
5.
Tomato flowers growing on tomato branches Turn their heads and rub their eyes in disbelief It's so nice when you come around The neighborhood sleeps silently But the neighborhood will stomp their feet In the morning for a meet and greet in your honor They'll arise So many systems to decide The shape of language and time Yes, we can channel our heroes They'll never live up to the blueprints Created in our minds It's so nice when you come around
6.
All of your enemies are wearing chrysanthemum Friendships are born and mutate with scorn And hyacinth reigns from above And garlands of silk line the walls While fasteners haphazardly fall And light reflects gently, though sometimes so harsh From an aging, gyrating mirror ball And every step lands all at once and all sounds fill the hall Deliveries will come to your door while you're down the street Your eyes on the sidewalk A chemical taste in your mouth while you're moving your feet Grapefruit rind red ribbons wrapped Around a cream colored box Nestled outside the black and grey door Of a new home protected by latch, key, and lock And a keeper of keys with his heart ill-at-ease Lies dreaming on the floor He could stay there for days, and maybe that's what he'll do Eyes twitching madly, but soul underwhelmed Afternoons waiting for you Old silo silhouettes line future streets on the farm There used to be hills Now it's flat here for miles What's the use? / What's the harm? Erased all the lines on the map Now my paper's just blank An aerial view depicts energies too Armies march, regroup, and flank And warm earth of sun-dried, old battlefields hold up the tanks The action's not what it once was So they could stay there for days The zealots are cops now, and the slogans all work In a land where just certain crime pays

credits

released February 12, 2017

All songs written, performed, and recorded by David Brown in late 2016 at The Pale Bird's Eye, Bloomington, IN.

Mastered by David Allen.

Photo by Jennifer Christie.

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David Brown Bloomington, Indiana

Helicopters fly overhead. Cars rush by the window. Talkin' Neo-Nothing Blues. Escalators and hammering. A media grape-stomping.

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