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by H. C. Turk

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    Unaccompanied voice alchemy from singing to speech and other expressions that call from beyond
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To arrive at history, Kelada found a different route. With the sun pressing low rays along the landscape, he looked down to the emotional state left by traffic. A broad moat, retaining sand of every color found in the nation, encircled the temple. To enter and depart, the dancers stepped across white and black and brown and tan and gold. The footprints numbered hundreds or more, and who could count in thousands? Without correlating height, weight, and corresponding depth of impression, Kelada found her footprints. In this light, each shape was but a bright bottom with a darker edge revealed by an illumination that people can better accept than understand. Shadows, shapes implied by negated light, do not elude revelation. Though the sun throws its light through space with ferocious heat, observation is an acceptance, not an activity. Kelada knew the fem’s steps from history, illumed by the light of a different life when the girl had been blessed, and cast her curse across his heart.
And now, a PSA from our station, WEND: The End Of The World. Today’s message, brought to you by the Seven Dubious Sins, is a guideline for surviving Darkday: •Dress appropriately: wear something suitable for a funeral—your own. •Don’t give candy to demons when they come to your door. Give them your sweet spirit. •Remember that the devil can only beat you at this game by wielding the power of another person’s soul. To wield another’s soul can be many things, from marriage to murder. This is no time for a quickie, folks. → Knock knock. → Who’s there? → Your greatest desire. → I already have it. I’m healthy and happy and have a loving family. → But remember when…or wouldn’t you love to…? → Well, just a little. → G O T C H A . •Remain safe in your home and the nasties will pass. No person alive is homeless; houses don’t count. Your home is your heart. The devil won't enter unless invited. •Demons cause no pain. They rehash the greatest sorrow in your life, even if it has yet to arrive. •Only one demon is out today: the demon of fail, epic fail. When you come face to face, with the truth of your life in between, look him in the eye and see if he can stare you down.
Through necessity, we slept in the bog one night, on the firmest ground witches could find. The sole dry area, however, was scarcely large enough for our bags, much less our bodies. Therefore, we both accepted total stillness, since any tossing about would have us rolling down a slope to appalling circumstances. And fully static I remained after falling asleep, for my mud coating dried to stiffen me, the sporadic drizzles that night only enough to irk my face from the moistened mud drooling into my eyes, such an annoyance as to attack me unconsciously; for one drop of mud I thought a blinding torrent set me into a common state of nightmarish foolishness wherein I believed that a water snake was eating my eyes as I proved myself the sinner by swimming hellishly away. Then I awakened long enough to comprehend that the true difficulty was no more than stinging rain even as I rolled over to shield my face with my fingers, finding better use for that hand as I lost balance and began tumbling down the slope with no ability to cease, a mere witch’s limbs inadequate for overcoming God’s own gravity, into the muck, through the layer of slime, gagging at once in anticipation of having the stuff on my tongue and therefore spitting it out in advance, which only opened my mouth and allowed a true ingestion, a most effortful and required gagging ensuing as I immediately threw myself upward in a harsh awakening, clambering up the slope to collapse face down, arms spread across God’s mediocre earth for support, mouth in the dirt, but how to tell with all the muck on my tongue from immersion? Though Marybelle did not bother to awaken through this, being so superior a witch as to sense a sister’s thoughts in her sleep, she next rolled over while retaining her balance, nudging my bag with her sinners’ shoes enough for it to roll away and down, lost in the mud, the entire remaining night finding me concerned with the horrors of retrieving it in the morning, having to search the sludge with my face below the surface in order to reach bottom. Therefore, at first light, up I leapt to throw myself into the scum and thereby begin my torment immediately so as to end it as soon as possible, God willing, which He was not, though in a manner I was most successful, easily reaching upward from my position mired in the mud to grasp my case where it had lodged on a stone, remaining dry and muckless. But a failure I was in attempting to crawl out of the sludge with the bag instead of tossing it upward or asking Marybelle to remove it from my grasp, for too great was the weight for me to overcome the slippery bank, sliding backward and down, both myself and the bag well mired again in the mud, this another instance in my doomed life of finding a nightmare come true to torment me, Marybelle by then awake and on her way, surely having reveled in the finest night’s sleep of her lifetime, I bloody well hoped.
The illness of Earth is ignorance, of which Man might cure himself, if ideas were not greater monsters than the demons they explain. Even as everyone is anyone, so all is the only. So all, so all… Even as everyone is anyone… Is anyone… Is anyone…?
Like A Tomb 02:30
“The terrible magic of death.” “How’s that?” “The tiny pictures have the perfect look of people, but never move. To never move is to be dead.” “What’s the difference between a photograph and any other art, like painting or sculpture?” “Paintings and carvings only resemble people and things. Your tiny pictures are so perfect that they try to duplicate the world. This type of mockery is false creation.” “Photographs are perfect memories, not perfect mockery.” “Memories are not perfect. They are much more than what is seen. Blind people have memories.” * He had found a vision in his desk: a tintype of Miss Lace given him as a memento when she was especially depressed. But the marshal felt the need to examine the real person instead of her image; for one was kinetic and completely alive, the other just a still picture. * Belinda in that moment longed for stasis in her life, convinced that her emotions had progressed enough; for what could surpass the epitome of feeling that Frank had secured with his touch? And here was her wish, to hold this sensation, stopped in stride forever, her emotion the mark of a justified life, not like a tomb, but a photograph.
Walked away from a life of danger Choked with love, he could not breathe All he knew was a house of strangers Seeking peace, he had to leave Ran away from a job and family Sought escape through a human crack Wife and children separating Walked away and never looked back He tried to pass by a house of mirrors But saw his castle had become a shack His twisted vision had to come from fear or The last reflection was a maniac Ran away from a life of sorrow Took a train to the final track Left behind a life he had borrowed Walked away and never looked back On the road to another nation Found a door and stepped inside Space extended in all directions Took a look and had to hide He flew a plane and approached damnation He dove on auto across the black Between his duty and his desperation He fell to family by flying back Walked away from a house of strangers Resignation was his attack Learned his love was the only danger On his knees, came crawling back
You sent a message from the moon While running out of air Your time had ended much too soon Ask me if I care When you left to change the world Leaving me behind You proved that even endless love Is just a state of mind Reading letters from the moon I see you in the sky Down to earth and out of touch I never learned learn to fly I got a postcard sent from Mars Big names filled the page Exploring love from star to star Space could be your stage Sadder secrets hide from day Haunting dreams at night In better books, they'd fly away Sparkling like a kite Reading letters from the moon How can I reply? Down to earth and out of touch I never learned learn to fly Calling numbers, damaged math Strangers answer back Lost along electric paths: Bad connections' track I'll write a letter yesterday Sent before your time When living safe was such a waste And you were always mine What I'd give to have you back My remaining time Because you’re breathless, I’ll be there If only in my mind Reading letters from the moon See me in the sky Down to earth and out of touch Running out of time Sadder secrets hide from day Haunting dreams at night In better books, they'd fly away Sparkling like a kite Reading letters from the moon I see you in the sky Down to earth and out of touch I never learned learn to fly
Phantom Farm 01:21
I have to send these dragons back in time They burned my house and drank my wine I'll rent some zombies for the day They work for scrap then hit the grave I have to send these zombies back to hell They stole my unicorns, and smell These racist fiends can't take the heat They hate all men with living meat Vampires stalk my fields at night They drink my blood and start a fight My guard-dog dragons went berzerk Their fangs and flames don't care to work I had to hire an army from the moon Charmed by fairies with this tune The war they'll make is what I fear I got 18 men and 15 beers Ghosts for growing in magic fields Haunted crops can thrive [agan potions boost my yield Phantom farms arrive
Going down, I'm falling free, I wish my life were like TV I'd change my station with a spin From awful news to games I’d win I have to change the world from pushing me Like buttons for remote TV Can't find a job, might lose my home Bad programs I can’t call my own I have to stop the world from twisting me Like knobs from obsolete TV Music channels play my screams Reduce the volume of my dreams Stand up for what you must believe The devil does, he's on TV Incriminating women hating Views could change to urbane news I have to change this crass reality To a wholesome documentary Change a god show where I sin To an auto race where I can win I have to change bad weather on TV To a cooking show that feeds just me Those corpses on my family tree I'd change to horses finally free During station breaks, I could undertake How to watch reruns when I still had fun Can't let misery sponsor me I'm not a series cancelled at its apogee I have to stop the world from smearing me Like feds debating policy Music channels play my dreams Reduce the volume of my screams Set the tube to fantasy Warring stories starring me Prime time failures in my head Smell worse than bodies 8 days dead
Take a step outside the door, place one foot in the grave I'm leaving home to fight a war, just to get away Home is where the heartache lives Now it's vowed to stay, The future is a better time The new world starts today I need guns to have my fun Shooting off with ease One blows smoke and one spits love Win a war with these Different tunes for different wounds Cry means "sob" or "say" Silence can become my croon A new world starts today A girl so bright she sees at night Luminous to me Shocking dark is passion's light Blinding lies deceive I imagine truth is free, but who imagined me? Older answers fail to say: The new world starts today Trying not to breathe when demons come to feed their game Love and hate are what they ate Both came out the same My lost lover, undercover, spied on men who fake The search to learn where people yearn to make instead of take Killing for love is obsolete, a time that should decay Ageless in the afterlife A new world starts today
Run through halls and climb the walls To reach for space with math Transcendent travel seems the goal But no one leaves the path I would fly if you would follow I would crawl to make you tame The first to try, the last to cry Your number is your name I told you once that numerous dunces steal your lies for fame On second thought, the truth was bought to figure out your aim To minimize the endless moves that add to your decay The uppercrust with zero trust buy countless passageways How can ignorance possess you How is innocence regained The first to learn, the last to burn Your number is your name All you do was thought by a precedent Original residents live only extremes All you see was viewed in another light Your travels are all a flight to second rate dreams What infinity divides us that geometry can't frame The first to fit, the last to quit Your number is your name You quantify corruption that's conducive to your scheme Then ask for my approval and expect me not to scream Calculating vectors won't account for all your sums Every head you've left for dead will trip you as you run How can fate both misdirect you And subtract from what you've gained? The first to sin, the last to win Your number is your name Run through halls and climb the walls To reach for space with math Transcendent travel seems the goal But how to leave the path? I would fly if you would follow I would crawl to make you tame The first to try, the last to die Your number is your name
Trapped inside another head by research gone oblique Science is sorry but for one to survive The other angle has to cease Leave your partner forever He'll understand in the end Experimental mania makes maximum mistakes while teaching Science seeks truth, not friends I love you, I hate to I'll leave but I'll take you I'll find a friend for you Trapped inside another soul by scientific deeds The trial to seek says you will gain release If you command and not appease with Words that implicate dying Provoke the ultimate thrill End your exam by giving death a hand and Not avoiding words that seem to kill I love you, I hate you I won't let them make you I do this just to you Calculating life is a fundamental phobia Ignorance reprieves the basic science of release Decimating strife is a fun and mental foe to ya Innocence endures the lasting silence of relief Trapped inside another love from romance misconstrued Giving can be work if your survival overturns The need to quiet words that ruin Words that stop you from trying Words that make you stand still Engender any end for me by terminating treachery: Some words try to kill I love you but hate to It's your fault I rape you I'll give you what you're due Trapped inside another note by music gone astray Can't get out no matter how I shout Because the sound won't go away Words that make you keep trying Words that tolerate play Obliterate your life for me by challenging eternity Words were made to stay I love not to hate you I'm thrilled or I've killed you I do this just for you Words that stop expression by ending breath and thought and will Enter an end and tell your final friend About the words you heard that try to kill I love you, I hate you It's my turn to break you I'll find an end for you
I have to leave your house before the morning If you wake you'll beat me to the start You'd abandon me without a warning Thanks for warming my heart I have to finish work before the morning Love's a chore that drives us till we burn Riding as a passenger is boring You're ignoring my turn When you leave, no time to grieve You might return, but then I'm not sure I have the nerve to Lose you again I'm surprised I can't predict that morning Might see you leave while I sit and pretend Your gambling with my love is not scorning I could bet you I'll forget you again I have to leave my house before the morning You'll be come and gone before I start I could learn a lesson from your whoring It's not warring, it's art Future recollection sends a warning One more heartbreak and I might escape These ruptures reek of rapturous exploring Is it sporting or rape When you leave, no time to grieve You might return, but then I'm not sure I have the nerve to Lose you again I'm surprised I can't predict that morning Might see you leave while I sit and pretend Your gambling with my love is not deploring I could bet you I'll forget you I regret to recollect you again
Dreaming for real of a better deal While stuck in a rut of cash Healthy as a hog and wealthy as a frog With gold rolling down its back Far beyond is a world that's gone from paradise to strife The unenlightened who starve and fight I'm giving them a better life Dreaming for real of the flaws I'll heal Now I'll have to find the time Guilty to be free of catastrophe My gracious girl won't mind Teach the ignorant, gorge the poor, remediate a war My lover laughs that I need to grow It’s time to let the charity flow I grew so hard I seemed to fight her Our heavy love was growing lighter The poorest wars begin within a grand theme I gave so hard I finally starved her Of the love we had before I carved her A notch in the crotch of the world for arrogant dreams I tried so hard but couldn't keep her That soft-eyed gal was simply sweeter than The meat-head bore who ignored her everyday needs Head check I don't try to please you Bed check I know why I freeze you Save the raving world by learning to reach Satiate starvation after decimating war Outthink ignoramuses, enrichen all the poor Neutralizing gravity, reverse inertia's drag Nature's laws we can't refute, we keep inside a bag I grew so fast but couldn't feed her Only when she left I learned to heed her Advice, what a price, for neglecting love within reach I thought so slow I could only teach her The lunatic lie that I didn't need her Save the raving world by learning to reach It seems so strange or even funny That I had only love and money Drain your days to add one drop to the sea Head check I don't try to please you Bed check I know why I freeze you Save the raving world by learning to reach Head test I don't try to freeze you Bed rest I could die to please you Drain your days to add one drop to the sea Save the raving world by learning— Dream for real the deal of learning to reach Dreain you days to add one drop to the— Save the raving world by learning to— Dream for real the deal of learning to— Drain your days to— Dream for real— Head check
Good Night 03:51
Good night


released December 5, 2014


all rights reserved



H. C. Turk

Space pirates steal skinny gals. Ideas are greater monsters than the demons they explain. I'd bare my soul, but don't want to bore.

These Mystiphysical treasures can be found in my work, brainy music to make you think about feeling fantastic. In a sonic world where art is the ultimate animal, music evolution never ends, rising from the depths of the psyche to sing across a new sky.
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