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Song and the Story Pt. II

"Out in the torrid wake of the sea, the gale shook the bow-planks like tremors, and our cargo rioted in voice below the decks. Though the winds shook us, The Drunk Captain showed me that the sun was high, and assured me that the seas would grow calm, and that our passenger-cargo, ten and one thousand animals of burden and beauty, would not perish in the storm or sea. The sailors' provisions were meager, and one ran about the ship catching food. His way was to pursue birds that had food in their mouths suitable for humans, and snatch it from them. "That is my son Shem." The Drunk Captain told me, "Who I love most of the three sons I have borne, and though he is a fool, his heart is good." He drank from his bottle. "Come with me now," He said. "For you have not seen your fellow passengers." We went down into the ship's hold. And I saw at my every side beasts of all colors and size and breed, howling from disease and madness. "Why do these beasts howl?" I asked."My dear Duke..." the Drunk Captain said to me, with eyes as blue and dark as the water outside the room's walls, "...they howl for the same reason I suffer. I've been trapped here for one hundred years. Blood, women and drink have been my only vessels on this vessel." He stared at the animals with pity, and said to the ceiling, to the sky, to none but himself and God: "Pray Horizon, lead me back to port."

The Sound of Animals Fighting - "Act II: All is Ash or the Light Shinning Through It"

Choppy, math-y beginning: the first destruction finger-picked empty, quiet battlefield. Maiden-sort-of-chorus: unification of sea creatures and their haste to aid. D harmonic minor jazz richter part: E whole tone scale harmonized with F minor Locrian to create half tone dominant chaos - the whales collective song of defiance.

Act II is inspired by the poem "Anorexic" by Eavan Boland

By: Eavan Boland

"Flesh is heretic.
My body is a witch.
I am burning it. Yes I am torching
ber curves and paps and wiles.
They scorch in my self denials. How she meshed my
in the half-truths
of her feverstill I renounced
milk and honey
and the taste of lunch. I vomited
her hungers.
Now the bitch is burning. I am starved and
I am skin and bone.
She has learned her lesson. Thin as a rib
I turn in sleep.
My dreams probea claustrophobia
a sensuous enclosure.
How warm it was and wideonce by a warm drum,
once by the song of his breath
and in his sleeping side. Only a little more, only a few more days
sinless, foodless, I will slip
back into him again
as if I had never been away. Caged so
I will grow
angular and holypast pain,
keeping his heart
such companyas will make me forget
in a small space
the fallinto forked dark,
into python needs
heaving to hips and breasts
and lips and heat
and sweat and fat and greed."

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