I created a soundtrack for the most brutal scene yet in the ongoing Identify novel collaboration.
I realized this sounds apt for the holidays, so now its purpose is tailored for… that
Hope this soundtrack could depict a bit of weirdness, a bit of surrealism, and a bit of fear in the midst of it all too–I pretty much am looking at it through Lauren’s perspective, how everything is fading in seconds before she believes it is her time.
I have recently composed an intro soundtrack to the Identify podcast project I’ve been working on. For those that do not know, Identify is an ongoing novel collaboration project that delves into a mysterious island that has different uses for people.
My main character, Oktavia, had an arc of redemption but losing her pet dragon, Lincoln, was the original idea for me to have her descent into the pith and despair of madness (we all love a good anti-hero).
Stealthily pacing away from the grassland and forestry was only to no avail. She would be yet another cause of death and havoc, as she marched on. Sideway flames were engulfing her vision, blood started to drip out from her wrists as she trembled—gripping vices like onto a tree limb; she struggled to catch her breath.
sluiced with rain
on the leafing
On each rock and scree
living in the Appalachian breeze.
Boxer, can you see through bloodied vision?
this conflict born from all of Adam’s sons
subterfuge meets necessity in life’s arena
In two moons,
a pseudoknot is in my blood
begging to close
about my last breath
It is currently untitled, but its genre delves into, I suppose, flamenco and a bit of folk country. I recorded each section and layered it together through Soundtrap. The guitar model I use is an acoustic-electric Fender CD-60SCE, the strings I use are steel D’addario, 12-gauge.
in womb, the fingers of tree
an ancestress trunk in sects of strife,
as born and lived through roots
like fossil teeth, pressing to death’s bouquet
in November’s winds
and I drowned to the moon herself
like a mannequin in the troughs
As the blood-flow
of living things,
dear white shells and white bone
fall into the ground,
mama’s bony fingers
whiten the earth
my fingers trace / against the stone
my flowers do die; ephialtes / in the
/ a deathbed /
I am dream-bound
to the weeping mother
of an ocean shore,
my shadow is darker
than the prose tree
of mind and desire
a prospect of inner lunacy
Stare at the ceiling,
I am an afterthought,
in twilight’s tongue
I am adjunct to birth and death.
Undraped, I emerge from womb—a pupa
I barely cried
in the white blossoms,
fresh snow falls
the night paradise
lost into the womb
I want to forget
I want to delete
There is only one week left until my poem collaboration closes. The theme concerns of freedom, how it impacts you, and what it means to you. It is a collaborative effort from the WordPress Community to create a poem all together during these trying times and social isolation.
It will end on April 29th, 2020, not accepting any submissions after April 30th, 2020 at midnight (EST).