joonavar

bobbytheaazami:

love is sweet

as sweet as they will ever come

There are times when I feel like I have been sitting in the silt and grime for longer than I remember, and my feet are heavy with the weight of the congealed mud webbed between my toes.  This isn’t normal.  Surely it’s not normal.  The sun needs to reach out and tear a whole in the sky like 4 days past, when the light danced along my arm like little ants catching glimpses of fortune and prosperity.

click through link activated.

cage bird caged {Explored} on Flickr.

It seems like this image that I shot and featured on my flickr account has been seriously doing the rounds on Tumblr, according to my stats. Thank you for all your love!

Sweet bird, with you wings so heavy and grey, the wind between your feathers lost their grip and now you are here, before me, scared.  Sweet bird, with your eyes so wide and your chest so plump, please don’t let the night swallow you whole.

I really love this video about the release of the creative power within a newly born Cairo.  Don’t take your talents nor your freedom to express just that for granted.

paperlesswords:

The Noise of Cairo

The art scene in Cairo after the Egyptian revolution.

The pregnant clouds rubbed against the back of the expectant ether, as it hurled droplets of rain towards the ground, long and bedraggled with the heaviness of the world.  Light bellowed into light in a battle to conquer the thunderous throne and claim the reigns of the sky, but night drew heavy and scribbled his name across the tainted canvas, until it was calm, and still.

My heart beat like the final wails of a woman yearning for her lost family.  The stars in the sky fell to the end of time and yet somehow, we can still see them, as they pulse within their own recollections of what was once so real to them.  Beneath the ether, we long to be just that.  Just that

We dipped our fingers into the ice cold water, fishing around to find a bean which hadn’t been opened yet.  With the sleep still lingering in the puffed up creases around our eyes, and the distant memory of a breakfast which was short lived, we would sit within corner of the kitchen which only felt the presence of breath several times a year.  Our fingers felt numb as we pinched the corner coat of the bean and squeezed the inner pulp out into existence.  Each bean, forced to give birth and thrust into a world where it’s only purpose was to fulfil the insatiable desires of others.  Behind us, the water on the stove would be bubbling in manic despair, fervently trying to cook each and every grain of rice.  The air would be filled with the mingling scents of the marinating chicken and the freshly cut dill, permeating through the kitchen and out the windows.  The beans were all we remembered.  They came to us laden in responsibility and an expectation to deliver.  When they came to us, they were blinded and cold, but when they left they were warm and naked in sprout.  Such were the days of our childhood, brimming with recollections from the tiniest seeds.

Let me steal this moment from you, if only for a while, so that I can wear it like a coat and parade around the hall in a glory that only I and these four walls will ever now about.

Let me steal this moment from you, in this flicker of a lifetime, and weather the climb of the his hill, wading in boots that only I can fill.

Let me steal this moment for you, and sneak into you room as the sun rise slips through the blinds, and leave it resting against your pillow for your waking eyes to gaze upon.

Let me steal this moment.

“You’re an artist.”

Compliments don’t come as beautiful as this.

Little bee, little bee, the whispers between your toes are so enchanting. Please don’t fall. Your wings might not work.

…and if you run your hand along the whispers within the wall, my heart can be felt there, loving you…

I think your arms are pretty. 

The way they reach around me and hold me close. 

The way they speak to me in a low whisper, a softly spoken reassurance. 

I think your arms are pretty. 

The way they dance in the morning light as they reach towards the early dawning beams. 

I think your arms are pretty. 

The way the heat from your shoulder stirs and quivers against mine. 

The way I feel your presence encapsulate me with not even a glance. 

I think your arms are pretty.

Like pearls within their shells, we too conceal our doubts within our bodies, but it will be our fears that will free us from our prisons.

Beneath your skeleton there are a hundred fingers pushing you forwards, contorting your presence to a state that not even you knew existed.  Step outside of what you know and shake the hand of what has always been.  Make its acquaintance.  See how it breathes. Feel how it moves. Familiarize yourself with its smile, and remember its smell.  For when you step back to that cage of bones, this is all you will retain from where you came, and to where you go. 

There is this urgency in his voice, a power punched through his words, that she just wants to lay herself beside the soles of his feet and be as dust gravitating through a presence far greater than her own breath could ever muster.  Vines long to be in places they are not.  Roots stretch towards something they cannot reach. Yet we all readily throw ourselves blind into the oblivion far from what we were meant to be.  Quivering beings, quaking in our uncertainty.  We fail to see what is always there. 

It’s so hard to sleep when beneath your skin the pins are fraternising with the needles and awakening back to life.  My outer existence flakes to the touch and quivers against the tips of your fingers whilst beneath a plague of raging bulls course through my veins, driving me forwards and onwards, and into ‘this’.  There, I smell the damp rising from the ground, as the rain cools the fire from the homes of our burdens.  Here, I sink within the steady grinding of the timer, ticking its tock against this battle, yet not forgotten.  My race is not yet run.

every night
I thank Him,
for the gift
of you.

Your presence strums like the electrical static humming through the ground, bursting through the vast night as their walls shake and cave in. Wicked words scribbled upon the steps leading to enlightenment and truth. Reality can’t be faltered.

MATT CORBY - BROTHER

The range of his voice is simply enigmatic.  What a gem to have stumbled across on this day when the sun decided to show it’s face.

Lady Gaga, bigger and better, like you’ve never seen her before.  This is how her music should be appreciated.

And yes, I am marrying him, and oh so proud!

METRONOMY - THE LOOK

Something about this reminds me of a childhood memory…the sound of that organ/keyboard, and the upbeat melody.  Cast me back, and swathe me on the loops of memories, one by one.

WE ARE AUGUSTINES - CHAPEL SONG

yes.  to the melody. and his voice.

YUKSEK - ON A TRAIN

There’s something about french singers, singing in their ever so slight and alluring broken English. 

FINK - PERFECT DARKNESS

one of the most divine and quite honestly one of the most perfect singers out there this side of the century.  His voice plunges into your wounds, twirls through the travesty and you emerge with a little more healing within you.

He has not disappointed me yet, through any of his musical endeavours..and for this, I think you.

FAITH NO MORE - STRIPSEARCH

I’ve never been a lover of Faith No More, but there was a day when I was driving from location A to location B, and this cruised tough the radio.  I had to know what it was.  It was not Incubus, however there was an element which was reminiscent of that video.  For the next 4 mins, I was the lovechild of FNM.

YELLE - SAFARI DISCO CLUB

there are times, when it’s better to not know what is being sung about, but rather to aly back and accept.  The journey begins here.

LITTLE DRAGON - RITUAL UNION

welcome to hypnotsis at 2:40

ALPINE - VILLAGES

There was a time when I hated Australian music, but there is this newer loop of groups appearing, and apparently multiplying, and I love the style so much.  They have this “throw your arms up into the air on a rollercoaster” feel.  Beautiful.

LYKKE LI - I FOLLOW RIVERS

Lykke Li one of the most inspirational singers who has not failed to disappoint me yet.  She has this knack of being able to create music that is ridiculously sexy and emotional.  A very talented individual whom I look forwards to hearing so much more from in the future.

AUSTRA - BEAT AND PULSE

This song is so good, it hurts.  I ache from within through every beat and every pulse of my heart that syncs through the motion perverting through my ears.

AUSTRA - LOSE IT

There is something about this track that I adore.  It could be that it channels an element of opera, classical, electronica…you get a sense of emotions being so fleeting throughout this song…and the layers at the end of the track are divine. 

GIL SCOTT-HERON - WE ALMOST LOST DETROIT

Genius.  Legendary.   Exquisitely soulful voice.

HUNGRY KIDS OF HUNGARY - THE VACATIONER

Take a break, a holiday, a vacation, a time out, from everything that the tips of your fingers brush up against, and let your head soar far and wide to new and exotic places.

LOVESICK TEENAGERS - BEAR IN HEAVEN

I heard this song almost a year ago, and fell in lust immediately.  The idea of lovesick teenagers living forever is somewhat of a wonderful thought, and yet at the same time a horrific one.  To be stuck within the limbo of teenage love for an eternity, lingering between the confusion, tears and insatiable passion is not something one would want to bestow on themselves for a lifetime and more…but, this track is certainly embracing.

JOHNNY CASH - HURT

An old song, but if I had I heard this song years ago, I would not have appreciated it as much as I do today.  One of the most tragic songs ever made, with such a frail yet powerful voice.  Power does not always come through strength, but through wisdom.

TORI AMOS - SMELLS LIKE TEEN SPIRIT (COVER)

Anyone who knows me will know that I am hugely devoted to Nirvana, and the musical revolution they instilled into my childhood.  There is always some debate as to whether their work could be covered by other artists, and if so, whether it is worthy of praise or not.  I would fall into the group that would say “no”, however, there is one cover that I perceive as utterly beautiful in it’s translation. 
Tori Amos is so charismatic in all her performances and infuses such emotion into almost anything she produces, that it would be hard to not like this performance as either an Amos admirer or Nirvana devotee.

DEL THA FUNKEE HOMOSAPIEN - IF YOU MUST

I heard this song cruise onto the radio tonight, after years of not popping his Cd into the player.  Such a fond blast from the past, upbeat, perky and practical.  You’ve got to wash your ass, or else you’ll be funkee…wise, wise words.

BEASTIE BOYS - MAKE SOME NOISE

I’m just a little excited over here that Beastie Boys have a new track out.  I can’t remember how long I have been a bit soft on the beasties, producing track after track of the illest releases around.  If they come back out to Sydney again, I am definitely going to see them again.  There aren’t many hip hop acts as great as these boys.