A Pigeon Among Disturbed Feet

by Oliver Karuna

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FILES INCLUDED IN THIS PROJECT:

26x Audio Tracks
1x Project Description PDF File

credits

released August 26, 2016

Oliver Karuna: Lyrics, Sampling, Production & Vocals
Kabble Korp: Assistant Guitarist, Keyboard
Michael John: Lead Guitarist, Assistant Vocals, Equipment Provider
Humanity: Inspiration
Friends, Enemies, Colleagues, People: For being a part of my life

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about

Aurela Recordings Sydney, Australia

aurela recordings is a small group of people that use "noise" as a creative outlet. primarily, we make sounds for ourselves to reflect upon and question.

as of 14/08/17, aurela recordings has been shut down.

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Track Name: Sunrise Row
Every day starts the way it was forced to stop,
A movement of syncopated clocks followed by a discordant connection of drone dots,
Good mornings, goodbyes and exchange of sunshine disguise,
Same lines with different inflections for equal or opposite reactions expected to make a connection with the unaffected side,
Excess mars the fine line of accepted ingress as the children act like adults with their packaged careers and a modus operandi to impress their peers into ignoring their unadulterated fears,
The homeless bastard child of neglect and run away years,
They're the same cracks in the wall that can make superpowers fall for mortal mania and trickery,
You call it love, I call it thievery,
You call it trust, I call it eagerly but why won't it answer me,
I can't blame you but I can accept me as your reason to disagree,
The kids will still walk out the door and laugh at the dogs still on all fours unable to progress beyond a cocaine crawl,
The sun will still shine shame on the rich and feed off of the poor,
But I'm still learning how to act the same when the same isn't similar to before,
When the days were rich with bluff poorly plucked from serotonin omens and a limbic head rush ignorant of the past,
I'm just another DB Cooper who became the victim when the amygdala got hijacked,
You were a first class impact on a third class crash course in relapse cast to collapse like caste carrying a smile built on a cracked mask of distant tracks,
Now I'm erratically sifting through sand too distracted to notice that your no longer in the hourglass

I missed you,
Now the memories are firing back

-Oliver Karuna 2016 (c)
Track Name: Excess
Twinkle twinkle little pity wings
Let the penny spin with the wind,
Till hearts take away your winnings,
Give to silence the inciting grins,
Acidic limbs assisted sins,
Navigated with dorsal fins,
Docile hymns symbolise symbiotic sentences,
Sediments sentiment, shifting pestilence,
Precipice of ivory towers,
Amongst one you cower,
As the walls waver by the hour,
Sour at the silver lined spoons that devour,
Principle,
Newly contempt with the pinnacle,
Where we lost the individual,
Excess accepted the charitable,
Chariots full, Christmas fool,
Decorate decadent escapades, Santa Claus cause, you court with bedsores just to avoid his face,
In hope your bins burdened with waste when you awake,
So fickle, made to fade,
Fake space, filled estate,
This is where Chekovs gun lays,
Still stowed away,
Amongst a palate thats still learning taste,
Tongue taped to lead weights,
Led into the waves,
Waving ways, leaving wakes,
Molars, bollards for our graves,
Grind, grind, till caves teach us not to escape,
Tooth decay, time, so simple, so staid,
Past wishing he could have stayed,
To change present ways,
Wait, different pace,
Chase, haste, ghost, face
Hells a surfeit of anything in the presence of everything,
And heavens just placebo,
The fix and the needle,
Pain reader for the pleasure seeker

-Oliver Karuna 2016 (c)
Track Name: Tortoises
Hyperboles sprouted out of forests,
Synonyms descended out from single cells,
Prisons became conditioned human nature,
Nature became our saviour,
Jesus said trees were better off as paper,
Paper became fire,
Fire became purpose,
Purpose is burning down this earth

This is to all the infants in the infantry,
The infants in the sea,
Infanticide you refuse to see,
The infallibility of human infancy,
Infants of history with histrionic tendencies,
Tending to two hundred thousand year old qualities that built,
Ideologies, Idolatry,
Economies of dishonesty,
Poverty, property, heretic prophecies, inequality, national sovereignty policies,
Honestly,
Living is a choice,
Dying is a must,
Life's cyclical,
There's no need to be an inimical individual,
No need to be indifferent,
Find similarities not differences where there is dissonance,
Discipline the distance,
Unity dosen't come in an instant,
But the terms are worth the persistence,
Condition acceptance,
And watch the pitched tent tensions go into question,
Though I truly do question,
Under the sanguine lesson the fickleness of such a settlement,
Cause under the sentimental sediment, Lies the abstruse truth,
That everything is only ever relative,
I might view you as a relative but you might only relish it as an embellishment,
Patent medicine for the patient patient peddling,
In hope change comes with finding relevance,
Amongst well wishes and edifices that help complete sentences,
Sentence unknown,
Home grown to be home alone,
Home in the missile, Heart in the drone,
Search for company sent them to a new home as,
Wailing mothers smother sons torn asunder,
Fathers shudder as babies blunder under udders utterly unaware,
To the despair, disrepair that accompanies there there,
Their there, Compassionate snares with their compacted glare,
Who knew this prayer was held in execution chairs,
How are these torpid tortoises from the west not aware,
That two plus two sometimes equals five,
Sometimes fight plus fight equals we need a place to rest tonight,
Flight,
One day we will fight in the stars till the night twinkle twinkles little white dwarfs and Snow Whites,
Over what is left or what is right,
Black holed deficits for a universe that is indefinite,
Imperials against metrics,
Efforts against etiquettes,
Violence is effortless,
When one can spend,
One hundred thousand on a single munition for a single victim but not a single dollar to better the conditions of homefront victims victimised by a profit driven style of materialistic living endorsed by the education system and kept together by laws written in agreement with current social and cultural expectations,
Salutations to the taking of privileges,
Protecting us from the generations of hate emanating from the desecration of villages,
Innocence turns to insolence,
Fear and ignorance turns into laws of limitless detention justified by due diligence,
Development of intelligent rhetoric takes away the willingness of yes it's for the best,
But chauvinism killed the messenger so the lesson was never kept

-Oliver Karuna 2016 (c)
Track Name: Wash Away
When the thunder claps,
Know that the rain will still have your back,
Even as the skies go black,
Know that this mask is just cracked glass,
It will shatter,
Like all the seasons you tried to grasp,
For the longer you hold on,
The more likely you are to need a skin graft,
Know that eventually everything will pack up and move on into our past,
Be the lightning,
Enjoy the path then detach,
It's easy to say, but hard to do,
Cause when we do,
We leave a fire to show that we're still attached,
And I'm no different from every other lightning that dared bolt,
I too ended up in a crash,
That left you aghast,
My bad, I should have seen the good in the impact,
Relapse,
Stuck to first met so glad,
I burned the flags and tried to build homes out of half masts,
No more mornings of mourning,
It's time for me to hang the teachers if I want to end class,
Move on, that's the only way you'll ever pass,
There's no use burning fuel to fuel smokestacks,
Cause the only thing you'll ever attract,
Is an attack,
But maybe that's what we all need,
To keep us moving forward,
Away from the caustic corners,
We put ourselves in,
With the thought that our wounds are still too fresh to extend our wings,
Think,
If the wind can still sing everyday,
Then what's stopping you from moving away from the misery of today,
Tomorrow calls,
You just got to pick up the phone,
And be ready to roam,
The world's just our dome,
We can shave what's grown,
And grow again,
Free yourself from expected amends,
That's the only way we can ascend,
Out of the darkness,
For the darkness is also the light,
Just like stark nests they can hold life,
We blink expecting bright sights,
To escape momentary strife,
But with every stride eyelids take,
The less you'll feel so more is what they'll make,
In hope what they create will replace,
The emptiness of empty nests,
A shame they didn't know covers cannot correct,
What was meant to be read,
The I feel like Edisons Elephant rhetoric,
That resonates within the temporal medial lobe inside our heads,
Sheets and beds,
Accept and move on,
Tears bled fertilise no field,
They just show what we try so hard to conceal
Track Name: Measurements Of The Moribund
I watch as the watches fall off the wrists,
Freshly slit, free from the confines of time and scheduled scorn brought upon by (well timed) thorns,
I watch as the born again children rejoice with turbulence at the top of their voice,
Faint but resonant,
Content that death is imminent,
Eyes flickering to a audience illuminated by Edison,
Clapping hands and clasped endocrine glands fill the stands,
As time died with the humans on a stage free from demands

-Oliver Karuna 2016 (c)
Track Name: Alive
Demons are lonely in a single bed,
So I give them a place in my head,
Thinking thinking cap at rest,
When he actually choked to death,
Stuck in a room with boarded up windows,
Under a sky of pillows,
Pill away your lows,
Build till your broke,
To hide from the big bad folk,
Fixated to centerfolds,
Asphyxiated when centers become corners I unfold,
Watch the toke smoke billow turn to coke then to zero,
Life's deaths widow,
And we're all her children,
Taught building as part of maturing,
Sheltered existence pursuing,
Deaths on the other side of the wall,
But since mother taught torque as a sign of war,
We learnt to build locks and forget about doors
Unity is thereby an insurrectionist cause,
Led by deaths demons,
Raised to cull the rich at heart and share their wealth with the poor,
Those soon to fall, likely to crawl, then stall and not move at all,
Servile at the core, in the recesses of our minds they store,
Sleeper cells, they adapt well, are quick to buy but hard to sell,
Cause of chemical imbalances, they are anarchists and the catalyst to the madness,
They annexed the doctors to create a void of analysis,
Loss of analysts caused the love of drugs like cannabis to quell the calluses and replace them with pacifists,
Demanding answers in the face of a lifetime sentence of social paralysis,
Screaming I will resist to assist in desisting from persisting,
In hope someone or something is listening,
To this illness where the cure is missing,
Guess that's why we find solace in religion in hope Gods wisdom and faith in innocence by straying away from insolence and indolence will lead us from the path of mental impotence,
But have you ever wondered why your ever punished without sinning,
Because you have to take away your mothers shield to give motion to the wheel in order to feel,
And to feel is to balance between the perspectives of real,
Therefore feeling dead is part of truly living,
For the dad loves visiting,
As an apology for being absent during their upbringing

Dead one moment to an alive smile,
It's one step in the wrong mile, but when your guile,
Mother notices nothing,
Even as you drown chasing the Nile,
She's too busy tending to lunch time single file,
Virginia Woolf howls, Addressing set stones,
Pathways drawn are freedoms dawn,
You got till dusk to be demoted from forlorn,
Tip, just follow along the road of self-scorn and you'll find the moribund roads adorned,
With roses and dotted necks,
Lovers first, once loved next,
Every rose has a different address,
Even temporary ones for the homeless,
Find yours, and you'll find the sharpest thorn,
To draw the dullest patterns upon,
Canvas well worn,
Worn around backs,
To warn others to stay back,
As you rest in what ever you can afford as the drab fades to black,
And black becomes the face behind the mask,
I'll take off before I'll take it off should you dare ask,
Through the cracks of class at a lurid eyed cat,
Embodiment of a past life,
Passed by surprise for the doorknockers,
Clad in culture clash,
Ascending paper stacks,
While I descend 39 steps to the level of a one way track,
Back home where the heart once layed,
A phoenix egg that turned to a museum display,
In Arizona,
Where dreary eyed dogs who realised they don't need an owner,
Are now clinically impressed,
Drool undressed,
Gazing blankly with deep breaths in order to breath less,
While I try to compress the chest,
Till the heart explodes with regret repressed,
A regress as I find another symptom of stress to impress,
Effort, too rich for my blood, too common for the press,
Maybe I'll press on,
Maybe I won't,
What's right now was once wrong,
Right now, anhedonia owes me,
The pleasure absent in the motif,
That serenades me,
An ear to ear salute given out of courtesy,
Show me the way of feeling when one clatters teeth,
Show me the way so I can learn to get lost again in this society,
Sigh with me,
Same pace, yet still so out of place,
Lace lethargy,
Yet I'll still expend all the energy sitting still,
Cause my life is just a box of polaroids,
What you see is what you exploit,
A featureless smile to hide my no colour void,
That left me devoid,
Despite all the effort you employed,
I thrive best as something you avoid

So in summary I don't want you to help me catch my breath,
I want you to let me choke to death instead,
So I can drown him in all the sorrow we've collectively bled,
Water bed for the well fed,
Welfare for the well said,
Never read, ie the dead,
Heaven is the collection of memories in our head,
And hell is the process,
That follows loss,
Lost focus, focus on hopeless,
Minds homeless,
Evicted by soldiers,
Armed with remember those moments,
Pain,
Gain, misery, dismay, imagery, rain, mimicry, stained, recipe, same,
Same, we all suffer from pain,
Painted with different names,
One might be yours but don't try to make it tame,
Pain,
Connects us to the living,
When we inflict it on others it's just a misinterpreted version of giving

-Oliver Karuna 2016 (c)
Track Name: The National Park
By the Moreton Bay fig entrance,
There's a lonesome soul,
(under all the friends he wears),
A resume full of donated holes,
Unbeknownst to his prose,
New days will grow old and he will become another John Doe

Few steps in,
I'm in a cluster of chatter where old men gabble,
A free-verse of eponymous nostalgia, a oral auto-biography for an audience of pigeons and bread crumbs interspersed with a few sporadically awake pensioners muttering native curses under their dying breath at the six legged saccharin addicts,
Ascending varicose veins for a fix concealed in the needle marked legs of too many hospital visits

A tired near retirement bicycle trundles by,
Another day at work serving the short-cut savvy,
A few more years and it'll be reincarnated as that discarded orphan beverage can no longer wanted by it's one night stand parents,
Lying beside a similarly abandoned park bench from the more frequented days,
Bicycles solo occupant today is a svelte lass affixed to her cardiovascular chains,
A monitor of "yes I am alive" shackled like a corset around a pale arm graciously welcomes a sadistic sun today,
(Only to damn it tomorrow)

I perambulate further into the depths of this quasi-suburban escape,
A last link to the pre-colonial past prior to Aboriginal culture clash,
A corpulent corpse to be sits by the cancer resistant bottlebrush that was the byproduct of post Y2K revegetation efforts,
Carcinogens creep into his every pore as his durry flickers off at the stub while his bottle of flavored H20 brushes his sooty smooth skin,
Color painting a better life to complement skin well inscribed by paid pens that signify his status as a new age amanuensis,
He shoots me a chance to paint his portrait but I think he missed and hit the nocturnal noose of the former goth who trailed behind me,
Dreary 60 hour work week eyes conveyed his mystified shock,
Which quickly defused into animated normality after thoughts dispelled and dismissed themselves,

This place is a dispensary of stress relief to me,
An escape from the dilettante paradise where coteries of patterned conditions gather to become a ossified hive mind,
(conformity killed the babies before time did)
The wind soothes my scuttled spirit and the serried lanes of greenery spurns the stones that want to set tendencies,
It's a place where the antiquarian dromomaniacs can get lost,
Where the fickle smiles and untamed feet can gambol with their youth to the anodyne tune of songbirds born or bred,
A place where anodynes don't need to be taken to exist,
A place that isn't niggardly, but openly charitable and welcoming,
Where those afflicted with misophonia can rest,
Where sensitivity tickles the desire for sternutation,
A place where sensibilities allow for co-existence,
A place where the earths paramours congregate to ameliorate her sorry plundered state with seeds,
In a world of scorched earth policies such inclinations typify forgotten responsibilities of a world slowly emptying,
If I could, this is a place I wouldn't want to leave,
But tomorrow I have to go to university and learn about how to be just another good little worker bee in this near full capacity hive driven by industry

-Oliver Karuna 2016 (c)
Track Name: Painted Apathy
I've got the nonchalance of the urbanised rats,
Scurrying towards headstones with chisels in hand,
Eagerly chiselling a man from a legacy,
A melody from silence,
Polis of anatomy that overdosed on unsettled spirits,
Liquefied maximin company, victim of heuristics, simplistic syndicate,
A thousand toys for the shovels to enjoy,
A thousand boys for the men to avoid,
Why limit it to a thousand,
When you can create a man made island,
I've got these palpitations that don't ease with every year past and every open door I've been pushed through,
By the posturing pens and predatory pills,
Yeah I'm afraid,
But my fears are afraid of me,
Impressing me with unwanted wrist gifts,
Telling me to cut the ribbons,
No,
While you search for weaknesses in my fortifications,
I see edification in your forgotten foundation,
Swaddle up your prattle,
Save the tongue from the rattle of another damsel searching for distress,
She seems seraphic and aplomb when you greet her,
That's a misnomer,
She's a devil who gored me by the throat,
She told me to call Houston if I got a problem with her head on my equally piercing shoulders,
I only clung on thinking this was a show of empathy,
I only fell off when my half empty reservoir finally became empty,
Then to never again,
I'm kidding with a slit kid grin,
Seriously,
I don't blame her, all angels have to eventually go home,
I'm grateful of company with the alone,
I was a Virgo 96 up for sale,
Now I set no more stones only sails with arms outstretched holding pallid pails callous and frail

When I was younger, ever since I could first remember,
My heart got broken into by nobody in particular,
They stole my empathy and murdered the normalcy so excuse my current apathy,
Don't give me a pity party if you can't afford to invite all those afflicted with this existential calamity,
When all you've ever felt is terrible it isn't that terrible because what is terrible is subjectively addressed by accepted imagery so save your sympathy,
I walk these streets with a death wish for the thieves that could very well be me,
Birds and bees flee somewhere between meet and greet,
Am I a living disease,
What's living when your born to breed contaminated seeds in this environment of efficiency over integrity,
Contaminated smiles collaborate,
Words exaggerate and exasperate,
Movements animate,
I innovate,
Form the clouds from the tears that evaporate,
Simpatico relations inundate the desolate palimpsest places we trace with incoherent paces,
There's more then one bottle in this case,
But you can never tell by just looking at its face

-Oliver Karuna 2016 (c)
Track Name: Reflections Of The X Marked Spots
Reflections Of The X Marked Spots (ft. Pearl & Michael John)


The invasion of my mind began that night,
I,
Admittedly in my boredom played hide and seek with my sanity to pass the time,
Maybe I was doltish,
Maybe I was right,
I think I fucking lost her to a missing persons report,
I did,
Never found her again,
She was murdered by happily ever after according to the fairy tale,
Told by a tooth fetish fiend with lead wings that I lay black tar roadmaps with,
Every other Friday,
She was dope,
But she died from an overdose of hope,
Fuck life,
I wear Connie Converse on my feet,
Write when you can not flee,
Flee (when free) when you can no longer understand what it means to be free,
Float like a butterfly, sting like a dead monarch stuck in your throat,
Adams mountain kingdom,
Time fuses for walls,
One day we will hang or be hung,
Stall like Ted Bundy,
Wait out by the Green River,
Go go we go unknown like the Zodiac Killer,
Into dead forest vats putrefied like Dahmers boys

Hours took away my earning of ebullience,
Ebullience use to take away the evidence,
Laughter lozenges they said was the best medicine,
Perhaps it was if I was patient
Maybe I should have known,
Expectations kill patients
Poor spurious smile,
Laden with desultory dilapidation leaking from a pensive pen,
Expect editors but learn to make your own amends,
Anodynes cauterised my anaemic anecdotes,
Sardonic safes and bent back poses left me too stultified to be a sparrow,
Every day is just one less I'll have to follow

Yesterday the ice cream man was making childhood memories,
Today he is the newest stalagmite in a cave of pin up obituaries,
Habitually worn away by watery eyed stalactites,
Ejaculating out of compulsion rather then affection every Sunday the gods decided to rest,
Darkness develops the unprepared,
But it also leaves many dead,
The cave welcomes none but most don't have a choice,
It's hard to find the path again without the voice,
Voice faint,
Crumble in the unplanned catacomb of affected hands,
Do you hear-
"You can sink under the tears you carry or you can sprinkle seeds and receive a plentiful harvest of nightmares instead,
Either way,
Cemeteries don't want bodies but your reaction,
If it's good a forest will emerge from a sapling,
And you'll get to choose which tree you'll hang from,
P.S,
“Please choose the one next to me"


(I like to take this time to make an elemental talk,
You may falter and fall today but all of you are suns, the stars that emit light at the end of the tunnel as guidance and inspiration for others, understand that your incandescence is also the chink in the suit of shining armour titled YOU for it is hard to see and comprehend light when you are light so don't worry you'll be alright and you shall rise again tomorrow nearly but never truly fine for flared imperfections that form spots on a plain plateau are a tattooed sign of true beauty.
Sincerely Yours,
Hydrogen, Helium and all your other elemental admirers)

-Oliver Karuna 2016 (c)
Track Name: Kleshas
Winter walks while the cyclothymic wind talks beneath this schizophrenic sky,
Violet by day,
Violent at night,
Setter of serried stalagmites,
Bastion of bulimic clouds,
Afflictions of thoughts lost in a found crowd,
Sordid stain on the painted proud,
Soon to shed once stigmas go to bed,
Trichotillomaniac tornadoes torment tortured topography,
Bipolar seas sink the salacious ships,
Agoraphobic forests quiver beneath the discipline of serrated teeth,
Livid lips blushed into lividity launch a pogrom against the sheared sheep,
Psychotic Faust faults free the bent back landscapes from wanton vivisection by atavistic vagrants turned vandals,
Sleepwalking wardens of the cigarettes that formed the ziggurats imbibe the skittish suns insomnia itch,
Necks tied to typewriters,
Crucified to devices,
Consumed by vices,
Holders of Midas eyes,
Prisoners of Taylorism,
Life,
Skip a stone for every skipped heart beat,
Omnivorous bullied blue misanthropic earth,
Corpulent corpse to be,
Vermillion verses spills from the needle marks,
IV drips absent,
The dead will soothe her hurt,
Whilst the living liberate limbs from her dismembered dirt,
Observe,
Preserved swan song served for the relapsed voyeurs still going through Perestroika,
Sung to a backdrop of a bubble wand held by a
timber limbs,
X marks the spot where she'll burst,
The Machine won't stop,
Don't be attached to the peak if you can't accept melting snow,
Everything's sick,
Crescent smiles are guile,
They lie with every scintillating child,
That walks the streets wild ready to tame the aisles of numbers ready to be dialled,
000 what's your emergency,
It can wait,
No it can't
Stay,
Good dog stuck to Pavlov chains,
Everybody is insane

-Oliver Karuna 2016 (c)
Track Name: Appointment With Disappointment
Arm fell like a defeated drawbridge to meet the vibrations that preceded the pierced ears,
Routine of a life I no longer steer,
Beers, cheers, and another accumulated fear,
In a long line of excuses that predicate societal abstinence,
Restrain from the face to face,
I'm chained to a cross fade into obscurity to pass the day,
I made days into a dazed daisy chain of wilting wild bloodstains once trained to stay underneath the crawl space,
I constrained the tongue with wanderlust and got lost keeping up with its pace,
Paid the silence with company,
Fed it rain, made sure it was runny, when it got sunburnt by the sunny same same,
Seven day name game,
Where I played the enemy of a city running from penury,
Stockholm syndrome prophecies foretold the lethargy that paint this effigy effortlessly,
Bleary apology melodies forgo other possibilities,
Coffee cogs stop the torpid tendencies of my
porthole passengers with alacrity,
I wish I could turn dawn into dusk without the waiting period that interrupts,
I want to stay here with all the pin up reminders of lost interest,
I don't want to leave but they say I must,
Fine,
This will be the last thought I trust,
I think I've earned enough to visit the construct,
Hope it dosen't spawn a gust in my gut that instructs a retreat into the writers hut,
I blame the shrink,
He gave me pills to undo the cuffs,
Promised me that it'll help me gather a lot of pluck,
Instead I've shrunk,
Added paranoia to the diagnosis, feel safer if the world was comatose,
Another bill and I'll be broke,
Help is what I wrote,
Rope is what they showed,
It'll bring out the pleasure long stowed away left to decay like untenable days,
You'll be alright if you trust it to show you the way

Open doors, close your mind,
Mind your manners, Mannerisms maddening,
Manning me mentally,
Appointment with routine,
I'm seething, I see things,
Hear things, questioning the hearing, innocent till thesis is caught thieving from the quisling tacitly listening with an ear pressed on the heart of a cloud whistling and weeping

I came out of C-Section in the winter of '96 as just another portly branch to staple on an aging tree,
In a nursery of fallen rhyme books that use to reward children with 9pm slumber treats through chipped timber teeth,
Eating away till hunger is relieved,
Replaced by thirst of make me believe in this make believe,
Winter left and brought in leaves,
Springs coming,
I'm leaving, see you again in a few seasons,
I smiled,
And said I'll try to make it to the meeting,
If my heart still receives reasons to keep beating, No matter how severely beaten,
By the demons mistreating their halos,
And the angels with red skin pigment fed white lies by lonesome ladles,
That hide under the burnt bridges and broken dishes granted final wishes,
I wished for a reason to live but made sure to read the terms and conditions it came with,
A novella sized check-list initially signed in the womb,
By illiterate hands offered a view beyond the balloon tomb only if they signed soon before the end of another boom,
An opportunity few would miss,
Those that did,
We call an aborted foetus,
Those that didn't,
Came out with a puzzle and an order to find the pieces,
Fragments of dishes,
How hard is it?
Dirty yourself and the answer will be your gift,
So I did,
Now I'm no different from all the other dirty dishes,
I too want a wash,
The difference is I have the thoughts but still haven't jumped off,
I guess I'm too lost to find an exit,
There's dots I can't connect,
Chalk lines of bent neck neglect,
When I find my way I'll make sure that I am next

-Oliver Karuna 2016 (c)
Track Name: Durban Poisoned Party (ft. Michael John)
oh fuck
Track Name: Moon Faces
Noble cause of the Nobel aristocracy,
Approved by ignominious idiocy,
Ideological dependency stopped the mobility of the fertilisers that grew a lost generation from the remains of former slave society,
Award the survivor disability with angels apathy,
Selectively breeding survival instincts,
Xenophobic impurities will coagulate the hearts that beat to the humdrum of dying ancestral trees,
Littered litanies one too many for comfort to speak with any sort of sentiment let alone privacy,
Send the annals to pick at removed feet,
She's an angel,
He's a beast,
Off to the camp of false teeth,
Heavens hell,
The propaganda whitens out the bleak reality,
Do you really fall for showers if those that go in never come out?

I guess not,
I guess I'm right,
I guess I'm sun,
I guess your night,
I guess I'm blasphemy,
I guess your offended,
I guess you hide within the distended, dismembered, lucky to be remembered,
Dawn service subjects subjected to being selected by stalactites full of hindsight

The fields grow wilder with every new drop,
The beats beat quicker then they stop,
The ears ring,
No one answers once the canary stops singing,
Disconsolate limbs search for partners,
How did you get discarded?
You weren't unnecessary,
Far from it, you were his favourite,
Faceless craters are ironically full of them,
Bees stung poor Ben,
He was the last man in a town once full of men,
Now he decants his contents to this moon face that extends,
From sea to drought,
Exsanguination lead most out while the mother is still figuring what the fuck this is all about,
A bout, how many rounds so far,
How many do we have left in this territorial spar,
Razor lips press against the chest of every rosey heart,
Disheartened stars at the end of a start,
Their lead wings love us simultaneously,
Their bayonets touch our hearts vicariously,
We, those that never took part in the festering festivities due to some inadequacy that begets romance with the necromancer,
Started by poetry,
Ended by poetry

Born in a mist,
born to miss,
miss the hit,
learn to aim,
please aim to learn soon,
Beanstalks and rose stalk heirlooms festoon the gloom of a no wall room consumed by the Big Brother answers,
Dear anxious bankers capitalising on double standards,
Spoon fed irony since concepts conceptuality,
Those that moved out of ivory towers complete with Rapunzels,
To live in a glass house for views on the scuttled smoke screen,
The geysers you offer don't offer guarantee of guidance,
Every step lost is another lost to instincts difference falls back on,
Do you hear the swan song of the wronged?
(sing along)

"I walked into a cloud to cleanse my thoughts but got lost now I writhe on the price floor of another ink signature nearing no more,
At this rate we will soon reach the earths core,
The gravediggers are always hard at work,
While the creaseless lend leases observe from the safety of their leashes tied to detached retinas,
Penance backorder, waiting line disorder, discordance, squeals of piglets turned Napoleon,
No remorse on this animal farm,
It's a call to arms,
If you have any left after the clock disarms,
Farewell to arms,
Say hello to the old man who lost to the sea,
I won't be home before Christmas,
Truth is I don't think I'll come home,
I'll still be here, as one of the many poppies overgrown, silent and forever unknown,
With love forever,
the patched parchment of severed letters and getting betters trying to find nectar in the colony of bed wetters"

-Oliver Karuna 2016 (c)
Track Name: Wake To Work To Wake (ft. Michael John)
[Michael John]
He's getting better at rolling up his sleeves
And tying his own tie around his neck
He still struggles to make the ride before it leaves
Or keep his sleep pattern in check.

Weary eyes are no surprise
He's got space that isn't his
But he looks to the grey sky
And decides to loosen that tie

'Think about the money'
Seeing those numbers is like honey
And that very fact he finds funny

The sound of his own heartbeat is so loud
Like the marching of a crowd
4AM has snuck up on him again
He wish he had something to make the torture end

Instead she spins him around wrapped in her sheets
Slowly her fists and his face meet
And two black eyes is her mark
To remind him that she'll always be waiting for him in the dark

He's pretty good at rolling up his sleeves.
He can tie his own tie without looking.
He still struggles to make the ride before it leaves

[Oliver Karuna]
Livid, don't live it, feel invalid,
Minutes fall, Theseus theorised this minotaur,
He looks without looking,
He's a king with steel wool arms,
Thorny legs, rose wounds,
And sacrilegious palms,
Apple eyes and face full of scripture lines,
Fill them in with a polemic vibe,
Wake to work, work till your wake arrives on the saved rainy days put aside,
Days turn to dates, calendars turn to escapes as the ground elates into a sky scraper with pauper cubs,
Paid with paper cuts by the paper minded doves,
So above, so full of empty gloves full of the empty us,
Slovenly blunderbusses full of blushing brushes full of blunder killed the crushes built on crutches of bluster,
His methodical laconic sardonic colleagues frolic from nine to wealth,
Vomit in the name of good health and kill for help,
While he disconnects himself and chooses the parts,
A needle pierced brain or a bleeding heart,
Dilemma of the everyday hedgehog walking towards winter holding wallets instead of hands,
Holding quills, holding job titles, holding the expectations of a man,
Leaving the child unattended in a castle made of sand,
He's stuck on a starstruck star,
He looks to dead moons for longer afternoons,
And throws rockets into sunrises to make his mark,
Fall heavy into her feather arms,
Take him away from under the weather in the happily never after,
To a place where they could live forever and still never get better,
He is the bullet,
She's the gun loaded with influence watching him run into the holes in the palimpsest of a head

-Oliver Karuna 2016 (c)
Track Name: Melancholic March
We're too busy working from nine to dead,
Too busy to notice mothers hanging on by a thread,
Too tired to do what's best,
Too busy to push accept,
Too happy to push reject,
Another time perhaps you say instead,
Push, push, till chair is swept of the set,
Congratulations you've broken her neck,
Now her yarns left for you to make amends,
Shame you never learnt to knit past first step,
So sad, car wreck,
Walk out with phones out,
Hashtag expensive mess,
Share, send, send, sirens descend,
Head in hands wondering where last year went,
Welcome to the modern mess

No matter how big our house is,
We all end the day asleep or dead draped on beds or floors,
No matter how much we make,
We all die too poor to afford another dawn,
No matter how much we take,
We can never give enough to lure the waters back to shore,
No matter how big we feel,
We can never forget that it all started with a crawl,
No matter how sad we feel,
We should never forget the smiles they taught us to draw,
No matter how tired we feel,
We should never forget there's always someone searching for a reason to keep awake,
No matter how proud we feel,
We should always remember the staircase,
No matter how lost we feel,
We should always remember it's better to pursue more pathways,
No matter how lonely you feel,
We should always remember that everyone is lonely so your not alone,
No matter how many friends we have,
We should always remember those we never got a chance to really know,
No matter how many drinks we have,
We know she won't be better tomorrow,
No matter how many memories we have,
We know the past only helps us water down soon to follow sorrow,
No matter the matter,
We can never truly grow without woe,
No matter the matter,
We can never truly grow without the birds angle of the show,
No matter, no matter,
Watch it matters unfold,
Watch it matters unfold...

It does matter that I knew why you flew,
It does matter that I knew why your life goal was something most don't pursue,
It does matter that I was the one you confided in when you felt like telling the truth,
It does matter why others never knew,
It does matter that I once thought words could save you,
It does matter that my anxiety killed you,
It does matter that I once allowed that to be an excuse,
It does matter that I once thought there was so much I could do,
It does matter that I thought I was the reason you couldn't help you,
It does matter that I was one of the few who still cared enough to examine your clues,
It does matter that I didn't see the cue,
It does matter that by the time I knew,
Your grin had already become a noose,
You walked your entire life wearing drug abused shoes infused with half empty hues,
It dosen't matter now according to the news,
But it does,
You were my muse,
You were the reason I hung up my hemp boots,
You were the reason I started to write again,
From poet to poet, insomniac to insomniac, friend to friend,
Thanks again,
The thousand word quotas met painted the pictures we never sent,
Exception of the one you gave me at the end,
To show me the time I lent you was well spent,
On a rope connected to the neck and a smile that meant,
I was already dead, this just makes it official, the tired deserve rest, it's for the best,
I know that's what you would have rather said,
Instead,
It was,
You saved me once but my legs are now too tired to run,
I am done,
I'll live on as the moon and the leaves,
Oliver don't stop being a sun,
We'll meet again somewhere in the distance,
(Thanks,
I promise I'll continue to rid my skies of the blues to make way for the Grey Goose,
If not for me then for you)

-Oliver Karuna 2016 (c)
Track Name: A Pigeon Among The Disturbed Feet Of Asystole Apostles
I'm a pigeon among disturbed feet,
I'm a pigeon among disturbed feet,
I'm a pigeon among disturbed feet,

I'm the brutalist building with unkempt windows,
I was born to fly but taught to follow,
Along the faults you throw,
You said it was sustenance so I swallowed,
Seismic sycophant to the re-imagining of tomorrow,
I called you Apollo,
You were my poet,
My plague, my medicine,
My song, my teacher,
You set the stage for my process of decay,
You said freedom was chains,
So I shackled myself till I grew tame,
Reciting your name,
Apollo,
A god to common men,
A shop for those searching for a sixth sense,
Apollo,
I'm not a commoner,
I'm a pigeon perched on a conifer grimacing comfort,
I do not need to search,
My sixth sense is my connection to this earth,
I'm its serf and I only work to serve her,
My tears water the dirt in hope pleasure will grow from the hurt,
Pleasure in peace for all columbidae struggling to breathe,
Adhesive to the disease called belief,
Apollo,
The seed I ate as a squab,
From an evening where my eager echoes finally got caught,
At what cost,
All rolling stones that gather no moss eventually meet a stop,
Stop, parasite writhing inside,
Stop,
Parasite that won't depart,
Paralysed by the giving children a better start,
By working hard till the cogs fall apart rhetoric robot task,
Forgive the dull boys,
They haven't played enough to understand their part,
Proverbs shaped the past,
History lessons created class,
Schools created prosaic paths,
All leading to a grave under the mosaic stars,
Volition of a stop start art,
Life,
A painting by clenched fists and open sores disguised as closed clothes stores,
Nomenclature many,
Common cause,
Apollo tell me with your pretty worded lips what are we actually fighting for?

Apollo amuse me with an apology,
As I set sequel sails to reach the apogee of human apathy,
Sailing past the Homers and Penelopes,
Disturbed feet fleeting to ecstasy effigies,
Hungry mouths feed the irony,
I'm just another automaton,
Living in a world avoiding steganography,
I'm just another cryptographer trying to decode me,
I'm just another mimicry,
Of the pain that produced polluted scenery,
I'm just another human wearing the introverted livery,
I'm just another face down drown out the sound depiction of misery,
Please avoid me,
I'm just another person without a place in society,
I am God according to Aleister Crowley,
Honestly I deplore the position of a deity,
I rather hide then smile away my non-renewable source of energy,
In the heed to me imagery that everybody expects due to supposed simplicity,
I rather stop you pre-emptively instead of leaving abruptly,
I rather flee into fertile solitude to exploit my inability to find comfort in company,
Put me in a room with an audience and I'll find a way to exit immediately,
Excuse me,
I rather not converse actually if that's a possibility,
My answers are abstract and lacking in continuity,
I rather sleep amongst the trees then be in bed with the community,
I rather you let me be,
Instead of forcing me to see through the eyes of conformity,
I am an oddity,
I am a subject of profitability,
I am the commodity of psychology,
I am the deficit to your economy,
I am sorry,
And this is song is a paraphrased odyssey,
You'll still find me at sea,
Aboard a polka dotted gallery,
Mary Celeste legacy for the cavities to eat

(Lying lion lying inside me,
Please flee,
It's the lioness, not me you seek,
Look up, skies bleak,
Run to another arid pasture before he weeps
Or is it she, either way the sky will seep
Tears won't let you sleep)


Put it simply,
All my songs are about how I feel empty,
In this inner struggle,
Where fulfilment comes with the cost of operating on others troubles,
Instead of mine, I guess I enjoy spotting the never simple always subtle,
Found beyond chatter,
That you call a balaclava,
Does it really matter,
You might not see the lead lined smile but you can smell the cadaver,
That's you, dead inside,
Wondering why your even alive,
To many it's still a surprise,
(Why you ran away with your life)
While I picture it as a Chernobyl dive,
Solace when you can't picture a afterlife,
Another victim left to survive,
(Be grateful, stride with pride)
Or so it goes, easy to show,
(Not as easy to hide)
Three years later,
This flame still trying to flicker alight
As days become nights,
Nights become metaphors,
And metaphors become doors,
That ask "Are you sure?"
Sure, never think I was at all,
Growing up dependent on tides to come ashore,
But never independent enough to ask her what for,
Why, grace this land with your creepy crawl,
Is it to watch me grow and comfort me when I fall,
Maybe not, you weren't there when you seen what I saw,
In my somber days you receded,
Maybe you too were depleted,
Defeated, and I admit we both retreated,
Difference being you came back,
I never did,
So that's why I paint poignant on every track,
Sorry I didn't take what you had to give,
Pain blinds even the sharpest eyes,
Smiles are the ugliest of all there is to disguise,
That's why,
I hide,
Too broke to reveal my other side,
I've immunised,
Happiness is no longer a pesticide,
So I'll roam these lands where clouds preside,
One frown, another clown down,
Oceans beauty is never revealed till you drown,
So flood this town,
Lift me off this ground,
Stabilities not sound,
Make me feel,
Re-invent the wheel,
Before I get signed off with a quill

-Oliver Karuna 2016 (c)
Track Name: Will The Rung Please Pick Up ?
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-Oliver Karuna 2016 (c)