analogtransmission

Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ Category

I haven’t lost a thing

In Uncategorized on April 5, 2012 at 11:03 pm

Original Composition by Justin Banks

Drowning in lights at a black tea house
You speak of lost love over stiff sips
I cradle my back upon the peeling cushions
Fire off advice cribbed from daytime talking heads
and internet columns
“Reach out to her if it’s meant to be.”
What rubbish
We’re new pieces on the terrestrial chess board
And I haven’t lost a thing

You speak of the countless failures you suffered
to find Lake Tanganyika
The burning car you left on the freeway
The patch of marijuana in the less tolerant lands of Oregon
Evictions, rejections, and missed trains
The sleeping man in Bangladesh you discovered was slain
I wilt at your short-sighted complaints
A day of dynamism is better than a lifetime of stagnation
Any God would agree, even Logic nod’s slowly

Meanwhile the books pile into the heavens
The thin layer of dust lies upon the sunlight
as I create reasons to rise
The state borders encircle me
My mind is leasing new lands for tenements of worry
I build my body in case my personality detaches itself
Finds a new home, and brings the war to the physical realm

Don’t worry, dear friend
You could lose everything
Even the skin upon your back
You would smirk as blood drips down the trapezius
Find purpose in showing me the way
For existence gets heavy
I haven’t lost a thing.

 

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Tentacle Extension

In Uncategorized on March 21, 2012 at 11:32 pm

Original Composition by Justin Banks

It began with wine
Red followed by white
Now that longing is mine
She extends her wiry form beyond my sight

I shiver in wood stools
The ‘tender meets my eyes
Foliage fills my pool
Ignorance consumes me when she cries

Those without beds console me
Lips dripping as we trade in plight
The Government can’t hold me
Her tentacles pull me through the night

Grotesque revelry of a social dance
The body reveals I know not what to do
Her movement bestows a fleeting chance
Tentacle extension pulls me through

Her denigration echos through hallways
Nine tails upon my back
Her tentacles extend beyond the blue
Laying on your mattress
I speak on what she lacks
Her tentacles have pulled me straight to you.

 

Not Missed (Skeleton Song)

In Uncategorized on February 29, 2012 at 9:27 am

Original Composition by Justin Banks

When the camera hovered above the Olympic audience
Your face shone through, like embers in the rain
Captured for a second’s embrace
Those countless millions knew you were here

Where are you now?
Those oranges, picked by Brazilian hands as mercury rose
Withered and depleted as the skin on your frame
Eyes as sunken as civilizations that know not of the Lord’s name
Caramel colored moths flicker and weave through your hair

As the London rains play percussion upon window panes
Where are your sunny friends now?

Termites gorge on the innards of a housing project
Cockroaches ponder the drawbacks of immortality
The television documents the passing of time
The passing of torches
The illegal pass (Barcelona, of course)
The smooth rotation of a record has come to a halt (Bowie, of course)

The rent piled up like bones on the shores of Genocide
The credit coyotes howled and popped their teeth
The mailbox bubbled and burst like the pantries of neurotic emperors
And yet, those years, they passed

The lock was severed, the air writhed and dispersed
with the haste of freed beasts
There she lay in the stale regality of a cadaver’s grace
Skin coiled against the calcium undercurrent
Plasticized eyes carving grooves into the heavens

The movers shivered in the presence of dimmed existence
As he looked into the eyes of this Indian queen
His atheism contorts and he wonders…
Where is she now?

Keep the Signal Clear

In Uncategorized on November 8, 2011 at 6:30 am

Original Composition by Justin Banks

Stuck inside a studio on a Berlin afternoon
Just a bit more poison, this will surely be my tomb
Suddenly I see my Uncle, with his wolf straddling behind
“Strength and pain is fleeting, boy, so keep the signal clear.”

Fuchsia foam pours out my gut as I scream within the wind
God bestowed my soul and now that soul he will rescind
Grandmother spreads across the ceiling, the Blues are marching through her ears
“He never whispers, so honey, keep that signal clear.”

Drag my limbs through Dallas, bourbon trickling down the veins
The tavern paint job begs for peeling, ceiling tiles pray for the rain
My love, my daughter strains chords softly, as if dreaming I’m near
“Intentions won’t raise me, papa, so keep your signal clear.”

Bernays’ Disease

In Uncategorized on October 14, 2011 at 5:59 am

Cigars and aged wine circulate the office
How do we tap inside?
The human wants and human needs
Rarely coincide

The animal lurks in all of us
It wants to be adored
The passion of adulation bubbles and fumes
It cannot be ignored

Fresh products for the citizenry
Sooth their docile minds
Steer the herd, while convincing them
Their wool is one of a kind

You wish the heart of the dame
That sings across the hall?
Lease this vehicle, drive her wild
Are the pressures of this modern world
beginning to lift you down?
Try our new illness, severe or mild

Create the illusion of satisfaction
Questionnaires, surveys, and polls
The dance of capitalism only works
with some semblance of control

Dividends and balance sheets
This is the world we know
We don’t profit on human minds
but the beast that lies below.

13 Ways to Regenerate Your Dreams

In Uncategorized on October 14, 2011 at 5:54 am

Original Composition by Justin Banks

When the hands with which you mold and craft
Become blackened lungs in mining shafts
Cheap whiskey and bags of tea
Are all your evenings seem seem to be

You wish to be a scholar’s myth
Upon blue soil you lie adrift
A reporter’s statement made perverse
“Oh time, it shames the Universe”

Your spirit is a town besieged
The mind a colonel’s ache to leave
Wives place notes that flail downstream
That read “what shines not may still yet gleam”

The cinema is a mad man’s altar
Reality is held, then bends and falters
There you sit, with mouth agape
Charges of fury run from spine to nape

In fluorescent bronze, typewriter keys click
The soul lurks in it’s cage, it rages and spits
As you rest, clear complexities grasp you
You think of a God, and the questions she asks you

Tarkovsky 77

In Uncategorized on July 29, 2011 at 4:49 am

Original Composition by Justin Banks

What lies beyond the edge of an image?
The land of sound’s insignificance
The isles of sensation
A zone of unlimited transparency

And what lies within?
The distilled essence of existence
The skittish fawn of nostalgia
The unyielding deposition of time

Galloping Ghost

In Uncategorized on July 12, 2011 at 5:10 am

Original Composition by Justin Banks

A dense fog marinates the mountaintops
Visions of sands finer than nerves detect
Project without hesitation
Passions that scream logic’s name in the night
Sooth the southern journey
For down goes the road
Where desire and perseverance conspire
And spirits balk at the thought of tethered bodies

Thoughts are merely echoes of existence
Solidity is but a union of molecules
Sound is a disturbance in the calm of solidity
The energy that lies in the white hot core of humanity
Is equal to the force of universal conception
It rests within the living, it’s draped over the contours of the Dead

The light that exudes the the bridge of Growth
Becomes the night that shrouds the gorgeous cavern of Decay

Mi tresteza es una ola

In Uncategorized on July 12, 2011 at 5:01 am

Original Composition by Justin Banks

My apathy is a firefly amongst the tapestry of war
My frustration is the summer light upon Pontianak balconies
My serenity is the ridge, chiseled by God’s rage
Or is it yet the moist blue that billows before dawn
My anger is the pig of the Chilean trash heap, gnawing at corroded vegetation
My elation is the Death of the Sun, a red hue coming forth beyond thought
My pride is the vibrant rapids, magnetized by the unknown forces of the depths
My wonder is a Panther at the edge of the Pongo, dreaming of natural flight
My love is the width between glaciers, where light floats and air implodes
My birth is the harmony of the slave hull gospel
A fusion of weathered spirits not meant to last.

Tides of March

In Uncategorized on April 15, 2011 at 5:25 am

Original Composition by Justin Banks

We laid upon the rocks, tilted orange by the collapsing night
“Neptune will soon replace the moon,” she exclaimed,
“Do you believe it is too soon?”

The ghost of communication crouched within the branches of the palms
Snickered at our folly
As we stretch for strands of love
We trotted along a narrow path
Foliage split beneath our feet
Our fractured sentences whisked in the sonic waves
Like a feather in the violent dusk

She placed her basket on the sitting stone with sensual abandon
We spoke of the cinematic treasures of European states
This surge of anxiety powers me at frightening rates
Her eyes measure my distance, so much further in fact
Is love the remark infatuation retracts?

The coils of winter fell apart
As our kinship sprang forth from a nether void
The daughter of paranoia whispers from the steps of my soul
“This affair will be washed away by the tides of march, and it’s soothing air.
Enjoy it while she cares.”