Exodus 1-10

Passover

Little Song BY ROWAN RICARDO PHILLIPS

Little Song

BY ROWAN RICARDO PHILLIPS

Both guitars run trebly. One noodles

Over a groove. The other slushes chords.

Then they switch. It’s quite an earnest affair.

They close my eyes. I close their eyes. A horn

Blares its inner air to brass. A girl shakes

Her ass. Some dude does the same. The music’s

Gone moot. Who doesn’t love it when the bass

Doesn’t hide? When you can feel the trumpet peel

Old oil and spit from deep down the empty

Pit of a note or none or few? So don’t

Give up on it yet: the scenario.

You know that it’s just as tired of you

As you are of it. Still, there’s much more to it

Than that. It does not not get you quite wrong.

Source: Poetry (September 2014)

The Little Match Girl BY KNIGHT OF THE WHITE ELEPHANT OF BURMAH WILLIAM MCGONAGALL

The Little Match Girl

BY KNIGHT OF THE WHITE ELEPHANT OF BURMAH WILLIAM MCGONAGALL

It was biting cold, and the falling snow,

Which filled a poor little match girl’s heart with woe,

Who was bareheaded and barefooted, as she went along the street,

Crying, “Who’ll buy my matches? for I want pennies to buy some meat!”

When she left home she had slippers on;

But, alas! poor child, now they were gone.

For she lost both of them while hurrying across the street,

Out of the way of two carriages which were near by her feet.

So the little girl went on, while the snow fell thick and fast;

And the child’s heart felt cold and downcast,

For nobody had bought any matches that day,

Which filled her little mind with grief and dismay.

Alas! she was hungry and shivering with cold;

So in a corner between two houses she made bold

To take shelter from the violent storm.

Poor little waif! wishing to herself she’d never been born.

And she grew colder and colder, and feared to go home

For fear of her father beating her; and she felt woe-begone

Because she could carry home no pennies to buy bread,

And to go home without pennies she was in dread.

The large flakes of snow covered her ringlets of fair hair;

While the passers-by for her had no care,

As they hurried along to their homes at a quick pace,

While the cold wind blew in the match girl’s face.

As night wore on her hands were numb with cold,

And no longer her strength could her uphold,

When an idea into her little head came:

She’d strike a match and warm her hands at the flame.

And she lighted the match, and it burned brightly,

And it helped to fill her heart with glee;

And she thought she was sitting at a stove very grand;

But, alas! she was found dead, with a match in her hand!

Her body was found half-covered with snow,

And as the people gazed thereon their hearts were full of woe;

And many present let fall a burning tear

Because she was found dead on the last night of the year,

In that mighty city of London, wherein is plenty of gold—

But, alas! their charity towards street waifs is rather cold.

But I hope the match girl’s in Heaven, beside her Saviour dear,

A bright reward for all the hardships she suffered here.

40 Mark Strasse The Shins

40 Mark Strasse The Shins

40 Mark Strasse

The Shins

Produced by James Mercer & Greg Kurstin

Is it all so very simple
And horribly complex?
You suffer in a thimble
And there's nothing coming next

Your mom smokes in the kitchen
Her voice a cutting drone
So creeping out, you pass the bar
Your father's second home
That leaves you on your own

Nights I'd often watch you
Float across the grounds
Out the gate to the motorway
What secrets have you found?

You had to know I wanted
Something from you then
Too young to know just what it was
Something more than a friend
Is that you at the end?

Where you play in the street at night
Blown like a broken kite
My girl, you're giving up the fight
Are you gonna let these Americans
Put another dent in your life?

My mother says you're dirty
They're gonna find you dead
But have you got that final chapter
Written in your head?

Cause every single story
Is a story about love
Both the overflowing cup
And the painful lack thereof
You got the heart of a dove

But you play in the street at night
Blown just like a broken kite
My girl, you're giving up the fight
You'll have to lose all them childish notions
If you're gonna let these American boys
Put another dent in your life

You play in the street at night
Blown just like a broken kite
My girl, you're giving up the fight
You'll have to lose all them childish notions
Are you gonna let these Americans
Put another dent in your life?

 

MORE ON GENIUS

Major Tom (I'm Coming Home) by Peter Schilling

Stand alone
The boat is waiting
All programs are working.
"Are you sure?"
Controls are not fake
But a computer
There is evidence.
No reason for the error.
Calculation begins.

You are in love,
A safe party is safe.
Nothing is left to chance,
Everything works.
Try to relax
In the garden
"Send me a drink."
Big jokes from Tom.
Calculation in progress ...

4, 3, 2, 1
The earth is beneath us
To work, to fall.
It's ridiculous weight
Driving, driving home ...

The second part is cut.
We are now in the cycle.
stabilizers
The perfect run.
Start installation
Required data.
What will happen
When did all this come to an end? "
Tom thinks.

Control going into the ground;
There was a problem.
"For the full element of the valley chili."
It is not answering.
Hello, Major Tom.
Do you get?
Includes payment.
We stand side by side. '
No reply.

4, 3, 2, 1
We underground
LEAK fall.
Weightless for both
Calls to call home ...

Through the stratosphere,
last message:
"Tell my wife love."
no more.

Next to the ship
Hit the Earth.
They don't understand
He is still alive.
No one understands
But Major Tom sees.
"Right now it's easy
This is my house,
I'm coming home. "

To get to the ground
It floats, it falls.
Weightless point
Go home ...
The earth is behind us
It floats, it falls.
Weightless point
Come on, come on
Home ...
Home .....