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St. Thomas’s tomb is in Mylapore, India,
God bless the Indian sun.
Peter was crucified head to the dirt
of a circus in ancient Rome.
One James was slain by a sword
and the other James
clubbed to death on his back;
Bartholomew, skinned or flayed alive
and St. Jude went down to an axe.
And they all died dreaming of Paradise,
eyes rolled back in their heads.
And the Lord said:
“Don’t it feel good to be home again?
Ain’t it just right
looking down on the clouds?
No, nothing on earth’s how I wanted it.
One thing goes wrong
and it all comes tumbling out
of your hands.”
St. Philip was martyred in old Hierapolis,
Simon was sawed through the bone,
Andrew was nailed to an X
and St. Matthew
beheaded, ignited, or stoned.
Judas Iscariot, buried in shame,
cast his new coins at his feet,
and he gathered some rope
tied one end to his throat
and he hung himself up in a tree.
But John, good Saint John
he kept carrying on
waiting miserably for the day
when his mission would end
and his soul would ascend
to the Lord in a glorious ray
and he’d put on his airs
and he’d march up the stairs
and he’d turn to the Lord and he’d say:
“I've spent my whole life
dreaming of paradise,
eyes screwed up at the sky,
half-blind, starving for martyrdom
while you sat biding your time,
singing,
‘Don’t it feel good to be home again?
Ain’t it just right
looking down on the clouds?
No, nothing on earth’s how I wanted it.
One thing went wrong
and it all came tumbling out
of my hands.’”
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2. |
Let Go
03:52
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All this started following a mold
and the more I let things go
the easier they flowed
into getting old.
Now I see the pattern taking hold
and the repetition’s got me
doing what I’m told--
how do I say no?
(You got in my way
and I let you stay,
peeling away my face
in the light of day,
the sun going gray
in a bone white cave.
Water started hollowing my soul,
dripping through the floor above the hold—
and the ship starts to roll
on a wave, and it won’t let go)
Let go.
You’re gone a couple days but you’ll be home
and we’ll both go back to building
islands on our phones,
hiding from the cold,
trying to make it grow,
bluffing way too long
by now to fold.
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Todd Portnowitz New York, New York
From 2004 - 2009 Todd Evan Portnowitz performed as singer/songwriter in the Florida band Clock Hands Strangle, recording two LPs, Redshift/Blueshift (2007 Team Grizzly) and Distaccati (2009 Chocolate Lab). He now performs and records as a solo artist out of New York, NY ... more
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