Poetry by Moddi

Floriography by Moddi is a beautiful album. I love it, from the name Floriography (communication through the use of flowers) to Moddi’s intense voice and everything in between. There isn’t a single track I don’t like but if I had to pick one, I would pick Poetry. It is a great poem and one of the greatest song lyrics of the beginning of this century:

I’ll bury my downcast hours in transparent ink,
tie myself to the mast and wait here for the ship to sink
Though I know I’ve set sail on a wishing well
the daylight is dimming out slowly with every breath I take,
gasps of air become roaring rivers keeping me awake
It gives me no time to think things through.
I know words always come before you do,
but I can’t find no poetry left in these lines
I’ve been trying too hard, too long, too many times

Is this what a biochemist would call happiness?
Is it part of some unmade promise I thought I could forget?
Is it time that I let some air come through?
For now strangling love is all I can do.
Yeah, I know you have mountains of poems in mind,
all explaining how all wounds will heal given time
But these days are no longer my time to spill,
and I know that by waiting, I’ll make them stand still

I kept it as close as I could through those winter nights,
but the ropes only tightened ’round me as I tried to fight
There’s no worth throwing stone in a wishing well
Now I’m out of black ink and true tales to tell
and I know it’s all poetry, know they’re just lies,
but I still scavenge on what I find in between those lines
I’ll pretend there was happiness, fake to have felt pain
just to feel there’s a reason to read it again …


Geeking out Re: Stacks, Bon Iver

Re: Stacks
When asked about the purpose of “Re” in the song title, Justin Vernon replied:
It’s ‘Regarding.’ People use it in letters and emails. It’s about pointing towards an idea, to amplify that this song is about the stacks. I mean, every song title does that in a way, but I just really wanted to point it out: this song isn’t the stacks, it’s about the stacks.
This my excavation and today is Qumran

Qumran is an archeological site in the West Bank, and is the closest settlement to where the Dead Sea scrolls were found. Justin is saying that this is his

Justin stated in an interview in 2008:
It’s referring to the excavations where they found the Dead Sea Scrolls. When they found them it changed the whole course of Christianity, whether people wanted to know it or not. A lot of people chose to ignore it, a lot of people decided to run with it, and for many people it destroyed their faith, so I think I was just looking at it as a metaphor for whatever happens after that is new shit.

Everything that happens is from now on
This is pouring rain
This is paralyzed

Everything that happened after he realized the truth of faith referenced to “Qumran” is not what he imagined it to be. He feels let down and like he will never be able to get out of the bad mind frame he is in.

I keep throwing it down two hundred at a time
The stacks being discussed are poker chips, and are being used as an analogy to emotion and love. Here, Justin is discussing how he keeps throwing more and more of his love “down” into whatever he is into. The somber tone shows that it just isn’t working.

It's hard to find it when you knew it
When your money's gone
And you're drunk as hell

These lines seem to be pointing toward a hopelessness associated with the ground breaking discoveries at Vernon’s aforementioned “Qumran”. He states that it’s hard to find it (love, happiness, etc.) when you’ve already “known” it (or at least thought you did). Because if what you had wasn’t already it, then what even was it? His plight isn’t helped by the fact that his resources are gone, and he’s fairly inebriated…

On your back with your racks
And the stacks as your load
In the back and the racks and the stacks are your load
In the back with your racks
And you're unstacking your load

Stacks = Your chips for any form of gambling. In this sense, it represents your lifeblood and energy you have to commit.
Rack = This is the part that I don't think the thread has very clearly dealt (no pun intended) with to this point. When you go to a casino and have a lot of money to put into your night, you often receive a "rack" of chips to make it easier to carry them around. I would interpret the notion of a "rack" in Justin's song to mean that absolutely everything's been invested into this game (both with love and his previous bands).

So when I look at the chorus, if your "rack" ends up being your "stack" it implies that you've lost absolutely everything except the carrying vessel. It's in that sense that Justin felt stripped of everything he had to offer except his physical body. That's his "load" or burden.

I've twisting to the sun I needed to replace
Changing the lightbulb for the internal universe he has created for himself. His “sun” stands for the surface mental happiness he has tried created but has no substance and has blown.
The fountain in the front yard is rusted out
Love is not flowing anymore abundantly like a fountain. His world is not mansion-like where fountains are usually found. Imagery is used to create a cold winter like atmosphere.
All my love was down in a frozen ground
Love is dead like frozen water in the ground.

There's a black crow sitting across from me;
His wiry legs are crossed
And he's dangling my keys he even fakes a toss

The black crow is depression; the depression Justin is going through at this time. The keys are the gateway to a better and happier life- but the crow holds onto them and does not throw them back. He fakes a toss- granting a glimmer of hope that things will get better- but doesn’t follow through.
Whatever could it be that has brought me to this loss?
How did he get here? Where did he go so wrong that he cannot get out of this hole?

On your back with your racks
And the stacks as your load
In the back and the racks and the stacks of your load
In the back with your racks
And you're unstacking your load

This is not the sound of a new man
Or crispy realization
It's the sound of the unlocking and the lift away

He's not experiencing (nor can any of us) experience a full catharsis. We are never free to completely leave the past behind and start anew. We'll always carry some of that baggage and there's always the chance of relapse.
Your love will be
Safe with me

Will it?


Livro de horas – Miguel Torga

Aqui, diante de mim,
eu, pecador, me confesso
de ser assim como sou.
Me confesso o bom e o mau
que vão ao leme da nau
nesta deriva em que vou.

Me confesso
das virtudes teologais,
que são três,e dos pecados mortais,
que são sete,
quando a terra não repete
que são mais.

Me confesso
o dono das minhas horas.
O das facadas cegas e raivosas
e o das ternuras lúcidas e mansas.
E de ser de qualquer modo andanças
do mesmo todo.

Me confesso de ser charco
e luar de charco, à mistura.
De ser a corda do arco
que atira setas acima
e abaixo da minha altura.

Me confesso de ser tudo
que possa nascer em mim.
De ter raízes no chão
desta minha condição.
Me confesso de Abel e de Caim.

Me confesso de ser homem.
De ser um anjo caído
do tal céu que Deus governa;
de ser um monstro saído
do buraco mais fundo da caverna.

Me confesso de ser eu.
Eu, tal e qual como vim
para dizer que sou eu
aqui, diante de mim!


Yoko Ono – Will I

Touch, love, you
Touch, love, you

Will I miss the sky?
Will I miss the clouds?
Will I miss the ocean?
Will I miss the bay?

Will I miss the sunrise?
Will I miss the moon?
Will I miss the mountains?
Will I miss the trees?

Will I miss the city lights?
Will I miss the snow?
Will I miss the laughter?
Will I miss the jokes?

Will I miss touch?
Will I miss love?
Will I miss you?
Will I? Will I?

Will I? Will I?
Will I? Will I?
Will I?
Will I?

Quotes Void

Boxes filled with nothing

empty boxes

This picture is the one that best represent me now.
Loads of stuff that amount to nothing.