Levi The Poet - Motion Made Visible Memories Arrested In Space lyrics
[Levi The Poet - Motion Made Visible Memories Arrested In Space lyrics]
I can still remember the moment when, like a
Scalpel so sharp I didn't notice it
My reflection
Mentioned black specs in the window
Panes and said he
Loved what I'd done with the place and
Paint splatter
(or like a settlement crack when the
Pre-cast masonry shrinks and expands, but it
Feels like the foundation shifting
And when the concrete
Contracts like that the slab simply sinks
Into the sand on which it stands)
No wonder he's stumbling over
The cornerstone with
Figurative eyes full of floaters and flashes
And fibers projecting Jackson
Pollock paintings dripping
And alcoholic and brushing abstracts into
Life
Well anyway, the incisions in his vision
Cobwebbed out like
Varicose veins and when he finally
Realized that my walls were white
Afraid was the only word that he
Found to articulate the way
The blood spread, bruising beneath his faith
Like a child scribbling something
New into the pages
Of her coloring book, it kept refusing
To stay inside of the lines
And he kept wondering if love
Really shows up to cast it out
Keep forgiving
I've seen it in the nudity
That the spirit seeks beneath
The post-it notes as fig leaves
That I stick to myself like pithy
Adhesive truisms could be my covering
There is something sacred about
Standing naked and blurred by
The condensation in
The mirror – that glass darkly
That fog – the
Way that knowledge came with a cost that
Taught me that certainty is not peace
And trust is more than belief
And surrender is more than a verbal
Assent to the idea of surrendering
In confidence
My mother said that she wonders if there are
Some things that just will not be
Reconciled on this side of death
And I used to have
Her pegged as an escapist but what else is
There to do but give up when clenched fists
And vengeance still don't produced what they
Intended?
Can you be tender enough with
Yourself to flesh it out
And to let the mess be what it is? We
Pummeled the constructs to dust and
Stared at it like, "Well
Where do we go from here?" that
Earth looks a lot like what
We're made of self-flagellation
Is what it is regardless of whether you
Call it penitent or progressive
Sanctification is the
Word as retributive as we made him?
She heard my plea for mercy before I knew how
To speak it one morning, in her living room
I tried the sunlight shone in
Through windows that lifted
The colors of roses she had dried and
Hanging upside down in a row against
The white on the wall
Blood red like both a foreshadowing and
A sacrament
I said, "I'm paralyzed everything that has
Been so right
For so long now just seems so wrong, and
I don't know how to start over
And I don't know how to wish
For anything beyond the approval of
Men who, somehow
Had me convinced that buying their
Indulgences was the equivalent of
Hearing the voice of God
How do I learn to hear him if they're gone?"
Scalpel so sharp I didn't notice it
My reflection
Mentioned black specs in the window
Panes and said he
Loved what I'd done with the place and
Paint splatter
(or like a settlement crack when the
Pre-cast masonry shrinks and expands, but it
Feels like the foundation shifting
And when the concrete
Contracts like that the slab simply sinks
Into the sand on which it stands)
No wonder he's stumbling over
The cornerstone with
Figurative eyes full of floaters and flashes
And fibers projecting Jackson
Pollock paintings dripping
And alcoholic and brushing abstracts into
Life
Well anyway, the incisions in his vision
Cobwebbed out like
Varicose veins and when he finally
Realized that my walls were white
Afraid was the only word that he
Found to articulate the way
The blood spread, bruising beneath his faith
Like a child scribbling something
New into the pages
Of her coloring book, it kept refusing
To stay inside of the lines
And he kept wondering if love
Really shows up to cast it out
Keep forgiving
I've seen it in the nudity
That the spirit seeks beneath
The post-it notes as fig leaves
That I stick to myself like pithy
Adhesive truisms could be my covering
There is something sacred about
Standing naked and blurred by
The condensation in
The mirror – that glass darkly
That fog – the
Way that knowledge came with a cost that
Taught me that certainty is not peace
And trust is more than belief
And surrender is more than a verbal
Assent to the idea of surrendering
In confidence
My mother said that she wonders if there are
Some things that just will not be
Reconciled on this side of death
And I used to have
Her pegged as an escapist but what else is
There to do but give up when clenched fists
And vengeance still don't produced what they
Intended?
Can you be tender enough with
Yourself to flesh it out
And to let the mess be what it is? We
Pummeled the constructs to dust and
Stared at it like, "Well
Where do we go from here?" that
Earth looks a lot like what
We're made of self-flagellation
Is what it is regardless of whether you
Call it penitent or progressive
Sanctification is the
Word as retributive as we made him?
She heard my plea for mercy before I knew how
To speak it one morning, in her living room
I tried the sunlight shone in
Through windows that lifted
The colors of roses she had dried and
Hanging upside down in a row against
The white on the wall
Blood red like both a foreshadowing and
A sacrament
I said, "I'm paralyzed everything that has
Been so right
For so long now just seems so wrong, and
I don't know how to start over
And I don't know how to wish
For anything beyond the approval of
Men who, somehow
Had me convinced that buying their
Indulgences was the equivalent of
Hearing the voice of God
How do I learn to hear him if they're gone?"