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Organic But Not Mental

by Morthem Vlade Art

/
1.
THE NIGHT BEFORE A drop is running between my shoulder blades, the smell of old nicotine is drifting through the air. The same room, the same decor, only the notion of time has changed. A month seems two years then a month seems two days. I can't wait. There's the moment when everything goes right, things are simple idleness sets in. Then comes the price to pay for these carefree days. A crack has introduced this thought deep inside. I can't wait. No more euphoria but no wisdom either. Another era is coming, in between habit and the crack that turns over. The last cigarette before bed, spirals are licking the wallpaper: "what for?", yesterday is already tomorrow. Emmanuell.D / SACEM Publishing
2.
Silent Cries 01:58
3.
SPLENDOR IN THE GRASS I don't know how long this pain will stay, this tumor-like ball. I thought we had eternity before us, no need to hurry. Was it disillusion that killed the dream or did it go away on its own? Is it a lack of will or a screw fallen from the propeller that turns my brain? We brushed against a dream, it was a good thing for the time we believed in and hung on to it. Now we must live without it swallow and digest it. Is it Time that breaks ideas when we must act and stop thinking. Now we have to live without, forget the guilt, not continuously wonder at what moment we lost our footing. We brushed against a dream, it was a good thing for the time we believed in and hung on to it. Now we must live without it swallow and digest it. Emmanuell.D / SACEM Publishing
4.
Corps 03:21
5.
DANGER CRAWLS ON MOSAÎC I sink into a tiny place of the infinitely great. A hole under water filled with criminal embryos nested in the heart of rust. My universe of rejections. It swallows me up with a gaping mouth and sucks out the sap for the starving down below. Yours would be warm or cold, underground, aerial. Mine is liquid, scentless, oppressive. The more I say “no”, the more he says “come”. A beating of feet and arms, fear comes on all sides. Stockpiled inhibitions taunt me under the humus, danger crawls on mosaic. A hole under water, a pond. My universe of rejections. Emmanuell.D / SACEM Publishing
6.
ORGANIC BUT NOT MENTAL My body keeps me warm, a coat made of grass and leaves. I've dreamt about injured flesh, a void beneath the skin. My body doubled over and I threw up the dream, my guts were soft and thought was painful. A bruised feeling has since frozen in my shoulder. I've dreamt about water, mire where we drown while looking at the spongy green sticking to the stone. No more walking around the pond without a hand to grab me. I've dreamt of opened mouth - silent cries. My body has felt the absence, all my vessels have burst. The bones believe that the head does not follow, I lie down to warm them up. Emmanuell.D / SACEM Publishing
7.
Fragrance 06:58
FRAGRANCE A smell sufficed, one second, in this room; the smell of a time gone by. I breathed in until I heard a tear, breathing in but not out, I needed to keep everything. Then everything evaporated. I searched all over everywhere the smell could have come from. I simply wanted to remember but everything had slipped away for good. I stayed there, lifeless and empty, my lungs daubed with plaster, I needed to keep everything. And I thought that, maybe, the smell or something more real would come back soon, suddenly appearing out of nowhere. This waiting this need to believe were finally just as pleasant as the hoped-for finality. Emmanuell.D / SACEM Publishing
8.
Cream 04:37
CREAM I've trod in some white liquor, the kind that can be perfumed to cure a sick man. It was scattered here and there on my clothes and my skin. I felt it mutating the structure of my bones; I was down on all four. Food and drink were within my reach. When I tried to stand up, a sweet honey-like cream was shown to me. When I cut myself, my red blood cells seemed to be mixed with milk. No more curiosity, speeches from above were chewed for me. All around me I breathed in vaguely a smell of soil and disinfectant but I was no longer afraid of disease; my organism was sterilized, I was feeling so good. Emmanuell.D / SACEM Publishing
9.
NARCISSUS METAMORPHOSIS Narcissus splits in two, remains paralysed with fear. A flower has grown to the summit of his head. The fountain is a lake where rests his soul that the tormented heavens cross over the tumult. The reflection of his body melts into the water forming in his hand a barely hatched egg from which the Narcissus flower,petals of foam, gushing towards the clouds wich dissolve into the blue. His shadow swoons on the red waves like a ghost crossing the dog of which he's the master and the animal drinks the blood of his victim weakened by the yellow ochre of the closing day. And the marble statue,on the draught-board seems to detest the very plinth of its eternity which joins the liquid where death drowns to shine the beauty of its fingers. A path escapes from the grey mountain letting Echo,Liriope and Cephise be reborn but the young man alone with his head on his knees bathing in the light, his being becomes blurred. And Narcissus in love with his own face plunging into the colourful picture of storm revives the myth, painted by a burning spirit, of immortal love fading into madness. Emmanuell.D / SACEM Publishing
10.
Videoflesh 00:49
11.
Spirits 03:41
SPIRITS Under the smiling moon, spirit of night awakes while the silky multitude deploys. Like sweet caresses, hands made of haze submerge the ramparts of evening. Nocturnal visitors blend in with shadows and breath the perfume of silence. Spirits and Dogs Innards and hearts scattered on the floor sanctify the lair of the wise. Faints lights from nowhere reassure the lost souls exhausted by wandering. The skinny branches lash the air with fury, face of the enemy was slashed. Emmanuell.D / SACEM Publishing
12.
DREAMS ARE GONE Dreams are gone when love is gone Voices from the past and soft sleep Dreams are gone when love is dead, love is dead when a child has grown into a man. Emmanuell.D / SACEM Publishing
13.
One Second 05:07

credits

released May 26, 2000

Produced, composed, arranged and performed by Gregg Anthe.
Words by Emmanuell.D

Publishing administrated by SACEM, France.
ⓒ + ⓟ Antonn Records, 2000. All rights reserved.

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Morthem Vlade Art Paris, France

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