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Tremor Dancer

from Gills and a Helmet by Jellyfish Brigade

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Camelot in smithereens, we need assistance for the injuries. Wail the sirens, sonny, hurry quickly please. The invincible are humbled in their arrow pierced armor crying flipped versions of that "oh oh my Lord". Justify my sit(uation) like a master, unable to tell the differences between experience and disaster. Cast an early shadow stretching 'cross my yard of wood chips. I shouldn't measure progress by the marching footprints. Right. Stuck inside my favorite little maelstrom. My heart thump makes the needle on the Richter scale jump. Bounce, Bounce: swing my limbs in tune with the tremors, get ready to shout loud, in a meadow at dusk erupt in beautiful splendor. Hence the gully, godly, giddy out of body tripping in between the segments where the posse's riding with me. They can bring the parables, I'll provide the open ears, posting up inside the smoke and mirrors slowly waiting for the coast to clear.

I can purge my uncertainty or keep it checked so it doesn't show, but the wounded ego infiltrates the act so it's looking like my cover's blown. Homey all the haps occurring are confirming we get shook when uncomfortable. As tremor dancers it's our duty to remember that the rumblings will come and go.

I'm a mah fucking liar, but about as truthful as it gets. If I was stronger I would leave it all and hit the slow road and dip. Shits about to get ugly, dark before the dawn type ugly. Jealousy poisoning your strong side ugly. Close friends knuckling up brawl fight bloody. Much red splattered on the wall right in front me. Pick a side, any side, toggle when the tension's high. Defensive men collide when the desperation's energized. I've been advised to grit my teeth and fend for mine. I'll bet I'll find out if I understand the means when the end arrives. Calculated when I make my moves, see who's in the aim when the trigger finger blame ensues. I'd like to say it's you, but saying you is really just an I that I don't wanna have to deal with at this point in time.

Grab a hold of something sturdy, cause a shift is coming surely. I was hating when I stated folks were dumb and undeserving. Disgusted by theories and sometimes I knock 'em still. Makes me wonder if this ego is impossible to kill. Holla like we're prodigal highly evolving geniuses, songs for revolution and badges for our weaknesses. Are we masters of the seen and lived or dreaming droplets In the Petri dish? Probably somewhere in between the shit. So take me down a notch and show me what I need to watch. Humble the elitist 'til he's balanced like the equinox. People's gotta do what the doings have got'em saying. Let the potency of actions peddle the proclamations. Now...the question is: what do we do from here? Pack it up, mosey on, with rubble as a souvenir from when the world collapse and we flailed while it was crashing. We can brush it off but can't pretend it didn't happen.


from Gills and a Helmet, released July 6, 2011


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Jellyfish Brigade Portland, Oregon

Machines and the Gods


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