Day 14: What's on my iPod?

Um… music!

This one is a bit of a tricky one. I have fairly eclectic tastes in music so it would be difficult to say that my iPod is full of this genre or that. Instead I decided to put it on random play while I was working the other day & this list is the first 50 that came on.

What are you like? -- Indigo Girls

Look back in. -- Moby

Believe -- Bernard Fanning

Watermark -- Enya

Beautiful Goodbye -- Amanda Marshall

They tought I was asleep -- Paul Kelly

Better -- Regina Spektor

Sigur 7 [untitled] -- Sigur Rós

Lord only knows -- Beck

Over & over -- Sarah Blasko

Shosholoza -- Ladysmith Black Mambaso

Cecilia -- Simon & Garfunkle

Hold the line -- Toto

Innocence -- Björk

To my table -- Mama Kin

September Morn -- Neil Diamond

Hely Meli -- Hamid el-Shaeri

I put a spell on you -- Credence Clearwater Revival

Everywhere -- Fleetwood Mac

(Don’t fear) The Reaper -- Blue Öyster Cult

Cut here -- The Cure

Happy Birthday -- Frankenpony

Oh Kamikase -- Something for Kate

Autumn Bone -- Clare Bowditch

A man and a woman -- U2

Mr Jones -- Bee Gees

All alone -- One Giant Leap

Playground -- Sia

Forever -- Ben Harper

Almighty friend -- The Little Stevies

You’ve got a friend -- Carole King

Tango -- John Williams

Will it away -- Tex Perkins

Walk away -- Wendy Matthews

Blueberry Hill -- Fats Domino

I wanna be your lover -- Prince

Same in the end -- Sublime

Wirrpangu -- Geoffrey Gurrumul Yunupingu

Buried alive in blues -- Janis Joplin

Jungle Man -- Lanie Lane

I’ve got a life -- Eurythmics

Creepin’ in -- Nora Jones

Giant steps -- John Coltrane

Walking on the moon -- The Police

Squeeze Box -- The Who

Better days -- Bruce Springsteen

Green, green grass of home -- Johnny Cash

Take good care of my baby -- Bobby Vee

Landing gear -- Ani DiFranco

Spanish Bombs -- The Clash

Now, what does all of that tell you about me? In reality, I’m listening mostly to Lanie Lane, Mama Kin, Zee Avi, Jess McAvoy, Amy McDonald, Xavier Rudd, John Butler, Bernard Fanning, Clairy Browne and the Bangin’ Rackettes, The Custom Kings, Jack Johnson & Gotye.

What’s on ‘high rotation’ on your iPod? Or give us the first 10 songs that come up on random play…

she

Hi everyone,

Hope you're all well. Here's a poem I've been working on for a while. I keep putting it away, bringing it back out, changing things & putting it away again. One day it might be 'finished' whatever that means...

Cheers,

Deb

she

Who is she

depressing and ordinary?

She’s not me,

I’m unique and contrary

I never say die.

Not like her,

defeat in her eyes.

Resignation,

acceptance.

Not me,

I’m still fighting

raging at injustice.

Fierce

teeth bared,

a snarl, not demure smiles.

No batting eyelids,

no sideways glance,

coy looks, romance,

heart aflutter.

Leave me

to my guttural cries.

Realise.

Dark places and shadows

Here's a poem from a while ago. It's one of those ones that when I read it now it makes me think, "Gee, who wrote that? Couldn't be me, makes my skin crawl a bit." I'm not really sure where it came from, one of those dark places we all have I suppose...

On a pleasant note, I have my first 'follower'! (Sounds rather cult-ish doesn't it?) How exciting. Hello, Mara, thanks for joining.   :)

Cheers,

Deb

corner shadows

cowering in the corner

of our winter’s discontent

lime legs spider-crawl

creating elongated silhouettes

flies stick in honey and eyes

nose

mouth

open hunger creeping in the shadows

elusive sleep shivers

a death rattle, maybe

later buried in a pine box

scratching at the corners

fingernails

splinters

tips numb, rubbed raw in a frenzied effort

a dash for freedom

dashed hopes and resignation

crumpled

in the corner

Little pig, little pig...

Here's another of the poems I was working on earlier on the year. I presented it at the reading I was part of and I've since sent it off to a journal... I'm still waiting to hear. I thought I would share it here in the meantime.

Cheers,
Deb
________

Little Pig, Little Pig...

There was a fourth little pig
a ‘black sheep’ the others don’t like to talk about
didn’t buy a bundle of twigs
or even straw
certainly wasn’t into conventional bricks and mortar.

Instead he wove around himself
walls of words
in the fashion of a wordy igloo.
Transparent passages formed windows,
dark thoughts became heavy drapes to cover them
and keep out peering Curiosity.

And far from being blown away by the ravenous Wolf
the little pig lived safely cocooned
in stories,
keeping the world at bay.
All potential intruders began reading
and before they knew it they were searching
to find out how it ends.

Looping calligraphy papered the walls
of his imagination-warm living room
and the fourth little pig reclined
hidden
behind bewitching literature,
writing poems in the air
to keep the Wolf out.