The Noresoup Jukebox

Oblivion - Alice Phoebe Lo Well, October was an awful series of events, and I do not wish to revisit most of them. To fool myself into remembering a better autumn, I have counted October's pocket pennies. I have worn out my juttis just as I had hoped to. One is made of cloth and lined in gold, like lace. The other is leathery and tough, and though it hurt my feet for the first 30 wears, the thirty-first was ever so lovely.  The soles have darkened; my love for them has deepened. Juttis can be a steady source of happiness - till they break, of course, but that is then, the loving is now. Yes, my phone did break, and the replacement is awful. However, I now appreciate conversations better and have become far more interested in the stains on my wall. Toothbrush, soapy water, and Alice Phoebe Lou in the background (only because her songs have become happier, and I like to imagine that I have too). My father's visits and my sister's stay kept me busy, and even more so when Salu ...

Alice Phoebe Lou - Pretender silent reader of awful girl poet, I hope your days have been better. recently, I lost 2 sets of keys and the washing machine needed a new motor. my social demise  came on a Sunday when the church could not remember my name. then my phone broke after the 100th drop and the laughter that escaped made me look insane. I positively despise all the company I keep in this God forsaken academic space. I have a male professor I abhor and a female supervisor who I cried to once and now locks her chamber away. silent reader of awful girl poet, I hope the breeze caresses you  dearly perhaps reading about my awfulness, and the unlucky life I'm leading, could help you look at yours and realise  that yours might not be worth leaving. then perhaps I could use my silly poetry to lasso your newfound desire; to live a life that is less awful than mine to spare my thumbs from growing drier and drier.

I Guess The Lord Must Be In New York City - Harry Nilsson When you wake up to skies so blue Sun streaming through white lace curtains weaving patterns on ceilings made of wood - The eyes are not yet used to the light let in but are hopeful of a future certain. The cushion that you land on - escaping Delhi's summer heat for the hills. Well, God is a funny thing. My first morning home, a sparrow entered my room. 7 windows and I opened 6 of them - one stuck from the lack of twisting and turning over the years. Well, the bird made its rounds and flew about. A huge loud thud, and would you have it? The sparrow flew into the seventh, broke its head and fell down. Toy for our dog Sandy, Anguish for the sky that has lost part of its family. Even in death did the sparrow serve a purpose, for play, prayer, and poetry. And like the sparrow, had I driven myself to the only closed window before spring became summer. Stubborn to find if my mind could break what had not yet been broken. And yes, ...

Steely Dan - Only a Fool Would Say That "Winter is coming," Mordechai says — grim and dull. Wound with despair for what is to come, Mordechai feels handicapped when all he wants to do is run. "That cold dusk is dawning on me. I must leave. I must go." But Mordechai does not realise: if he runs, all he will do is fall. Because the journey is to be walked, the pain is to be felt intensely. So does suffering come and make its home, like an old wound reopening. Perhaps this will answer the ambiguity that life has been to you, Mordechai. Release your fists, open your palms, and allow these eager hands to hold you. Winter has been unkind and cruel — and I won’t argue. You have been frostbitten, left thirsty and without gruel, and yes, often, there was solitude. Remember, Mordechai — you told me to jump even though I was convinced I would die. You told me I wouldn’t, and though it took some time, I held my breath and did as you said: I jumped, I fell, and underneat...