Tag Archives: bjork

“Venus as a Boy” by Bjork

his wicked sense of humour
suggests exciting sex
his fingers focus on her
touches, he’s venus as a boy
he believes in beauty
he’s venus as a boy

he’s exploring
the taste of her
arousal
so accurate
he sets off
the beauty in het
he’s venus as a boy

he believes in beauty
he’s venus as a boy

on hunting

“If travel is searching
And home is what’s been found
I’m not stopping

I’m going hunting
I’m the hunter
I’ll bring back the goods
But I don’t know when

I thought I could organize freedom
How Scandinavian of me

You could smell it
So you left me on my own
To complete the mission
Now I’m leaving it all behind

I’m going hunting
I’m the hunter
I’m going hunting
I’m the hunter”
– Bjork

listening

I was sitting on my grandfather’s porch, listening to dropping rain land on the trees and leaves and grass blades and asphalt. Intrigued by the sound of the rain and leaf interaction, I moved closer to the trees in front of me. In this gaze I saw a long, plush leaf, extended in front of my eyes like a thirsty tongue. Its green color seemed like a natural florescent, natural neon tone. At the top of the leaf was a pool of water, vibrating and still, very much alive. The water seemed to move very subtly yet very precisely, so that I could see and feel its vibrating pulse. But I only became fully engaged when I began to hear the water’s sounds.

Slowly the pool began to slide down the leaf, and I heard voices embark on a journey, initiating a conversation with two (possibly more) voices.  The voices were unfamiliar. The pool was moving more and more smoothly down the leaf, still pulsing, and with each pulse there would be a synchronized alteration in the lead voice’s syncopated speech, each syllable matching each movement along the leaf. The sounds reminded me of some industrial breaks from the Art of Noise’s “Who’s Afraid of…?” juxtaposed with miniature sonic flares from Bjork’s “Vesperatine.” I couldn’t help but feel that some sort of a secret existed in that water…some sort of a secret that lacked a voice (or an audience) until that moment last night.

To lovelight,
Obi