"tibet" poems
"Dear Rolf Harrer,
I am a person you don't know. A man you've never met...But you are someone who occupies my mind...and my heart...in this distant land where I've gone. If you can imagine a hidden place, tucked safely away from the world...concealed by walls of high, snow-capped mountains...a place rich with all the strange beauty of your night-time dreams...Then you know where I am."
"In the country where I'm travelling - Tibet - people believe if they walk long distances to holy places...it purifies the bad deeds they've committed...They believe the more difficult the journey, the greater the depth of purification."
"...In this place where time stands still, it seems that everything is moving..including me. I can't say I know where I'm going. Nor whether my bad deeds can be purified...there are so many things I've done which I regret. But when I come to a full stop, I hope you will understand that the distance between us is not as great as it seems...
With deep affection,
your father...
Heinrich Harrer."
Mar 1, 2016
Mar 1, 2016 at 2:30 AM UTC
#*Multitudes will be liberated by that recognition;
and although multitudes obtain liberation in that manner,
the number of sentient beings being great, evil karma powerful,
obscurations dense, propensities o too long standing,
the Wheel of Ignorance and Illusion becometh neither exhausted nor accelerated*.
The Tibetan Book of the Dead
translation: Lāma Kazi Dawa-Samdup
Free Tibet your sticker tells me…
Yes, I think, perhaps I should –
and the noble thought compels me,
uninformed, half-understood.
Will their freedom help my Karma?
Upgrade my reincarnation?
(Soul who could not dare to harm a
fly… much less a Buddhist nation.)
Not to justify aggression
by the ever-brutal Commies,
let us grant no glib concession
to the Maoists – or their mommies.
Slogans echo in the void,
shining in bardos of the dead;
stopped by the light, I am annoyed
impatient for the change from red.
A bumper crop of human woe
beams forth a mandate to my brain
while red Dakinis circle slow
in Buddhist hells of karmic pain.
The eastern concepts here diverge
and bow before brutality.
They make this driver long to merge
with incorporeality.
Then I glimpse a monkish fellow
swathed in saffron, calmly seated.
His, the cloud-borne sage’s pillow;
mine the traffic; stalled, defeated.
In his gaze of stern displeasure
I perceive the orient stars
calculating man’s mismeasure
trapped, exhausted, among the cars.
Flanked by Spirits wreathed in fire
he extends an accusing hand:
Western slave of base desire:
come and liberate my land !”
I meditate before the stop light:
am I ready for the task ?
Should I just refuse it outright
Can’t it be someone else ? I ask…
Must I free this mountain nation
from the Buddha, demons and Reds?
Shall your sticker’s declaration
shatter the yoke and raise their heads ?
Somebody ought to free Tibet,
and heed this Himalayan cry.
Maybe we should get upset…
The red light changes. Cars pass by,
predestined for benign events
and unconcerned for persecution;
oblivious to dissidents
awaiting execution.
Dec 14, 2015
Dec 14, 2015 at 9:14 PM UTC
Somewhere in your wardrobe, I'd be willing to bet
There's a t-shirt probably bearing the silhouette of Che Guevara
He was revolutionary, yeah, he wore a cool hat
But behind the design I think you might find it's not quite as simple as that
Che was a bit of a homophobe, Che was a bit of a homophobe,
I think... apparently.. who knows?
Che was a bit of a homophobe, Che was a bit of a homophobe
This is my song in defence of the fence
A little sing along, a anthem to ambivalence
The more you know, the harder you will find it
To make up your mind, it, doesn't really matter if you find
You can't see which grass is greener
Chances are it's neither, and either way it's easier
To see the difference, when you're sitting on the fence
Somewhere in your house, I'd be willing to bet
There's a picture of that grinning hippy from Tibet - the Dalai Llama
He's a lovely, funny fella, he gives soundbites galore
But let's not forget that back in Tibet, those funky monks used to **** the poor, yeah
And the Buddhist line about future lives is the perfect way to stop the powerless rising up
And he tells the poor they will live again, but he's rich now so it's easy for him to say
I'm taking the stand in defense of the fence
I got a little band playing anthems to ambivalence
We divide the world into terrorists and heroes
Into normal folk and weirdos
Into good people and pedo's
Into things that give you cancer and the things that cure cancer
And the things that don't cause cancer, but there's a chance they will cause cancer in the future
We divide the world to stop us feeling frightened
Into wrong and into right and
Into black and into white and
Into real men and fairies
Into status quo and scary
Yeah we want the world binary, binary
But it's not that simple.
And your dog has a bigger carbon footprint than a four wheel drive
Yea your dog has a bigger carbon footprint than a four wheel drive
And your dog has a bigger carbon footprint than a four wheel drive
And so does your baby, maybe you oughta trade HIM in for a Prius-
ROCK!
I'm taking the stand in defence of the fence
I got a little band playing tributes to ambivalence
We divide the world into liberals and gun-freaks
Into atheists and fundies
Into tee-tot'lers and junkies
Into chemical and natural
Into fictional and factual
Into science and supernatural
But it's actually naturally not that white and black
You'll be
Dividing us into terrorists and heroes
Into normal folk and weirdos
Into good people and pedos
Into things that give you cancer and the things that cure cancer
And things that don't cause cancer, but there's a chance they will cause cancer in the future
We divide the world to stop us feeling frightened
Into wrong and into right and
Into black and into white and
Into real men and fairies
Into parrots and canaries
Yeah we want the world binary, binary - 011101!
The more you know, the harder you will find it
To make up your mind, it doesn't really matter if you find
You can't see which grass is greener
Chances are it's neither, and either way it's easier
To see the difference
Cause it's not that simple...
Apr 4, 2013
Apr 4, 2013 at 7:06 PM UTC
dear western society,
no one cares for the peasant who provides
the pheasant for the royal table -
but when the pheasant isn't there -
the royal orchestra cries out:
where's the pheasant! where's the pheasant!
as if both pheasant and peasant were alike...
indeed, the peasant isn't there to
provide the pheasant for the feast-
and with such vitriol you proudly say:
once these roaming stars that go against
all reason in cosmology disappear, you'll
know that i was here - you'll know -
perhaps the pyramids were only overshadowed
by the Eiffel tower, but many more pyramids
were mentally tattooed into the minds of men -
and rose far greater and were more
harder to overcome that man took to
climbing Everest - stone by stone his legs
encountered a new form of laying brick-on-brick -
for if western society deems me mad
to purge the old hopes of colonial rule - then
i have already chastised my body to have no heart,
and let it be carried on course toward Iran
or Afghanistan - and there entombed -
i hope Western society loves its humour as much
as it loves it's panic and paranoia and picnics
of waiting for the far right to wake up -
and this liberal-leftist mush of kind words to
be shoved into Disneyland of other fantasia.
yours sincerely,
Vermin.
Jul 27, 2016
Jul 27, 2016 at 10:12 PM UTC
Saint Jude says what's up
been in Boston all night
having coffee and tea, I bet
you're doing the same
in Tibet or wherever
They tried everything
on you: the secret arrests
burned Rumi books
poisoned coconut water
giraffes with broken faces
Loneliness is the door to the traps
but you know
who you are
I know too when I see you
on the coast
as still, as skinny as
one of my African statues
as lithe as a palm frond or a jellyfish
You were always going to get free
you were always going to get free
Feb 24, 2013
Feb 24, 2013 at 9:27 PM UTC
I ache for my first kiss
Just a taste from her lips
An embrace from her warmth
Like the light in her heart
Kiss me in the light
Where the sun shines
To where we first met
In the middle of Tibet
So listen to what I say
I love you and I would stay
No matter where we at
I love you till my death
Beyond the stars and back
Apr 19, 2015
Apr 19, 2015 at 4:03 PM UTC
I sat upon the soft detailed carpet
we rose into the air
out of the window
seeing the world
New York, Rome, Greece, Paris, London, Tibet, Beijing,
Budapest, Oslo, Munich, India, African plains, Jerusalem, West Bank, etc
What was the best is the people and the culture
how different each one is but yet wanting the same thing
riding the magic carpet made me think about how everyone
in the world
could work together
to make peace
but there is still those internal
disagreements
peace between enemies
hurts further
In real life I was my imagination
and the carpet was my dream
the future is my hope
Apr 23, 2010
Apr 23, 2010 at 8:10 AM UTC
If I was a king of Asia I would give you all the gold there is
But I'm not even prince of Persia, all I have is love and dreams
Let me show you land of legends, land of honeymoon and rising sun
I am not as rich as Ali Baba, but I promise we'll be having fun
I'll take you to Bali the gem of Java Sea
Then we'll go on to safari a little south of Abu Dhabi
I'll take you to Maldives to swim in coral reefs
We'll enjoy the sweet papaya on the islands of Pattaya
I'll show you lake Baikal, Tibet and Taj Mahal
We'll see Macao, Yokohama, Hanoi, Jeddah, Jaipur, Jakarta
I'll take you to Dubai, Dushanbe and Mumbai
We'll spend some starry nights in yurts near the city of Yakutsk
I’ll take you to Tashkent where melons got their scent
We will taste all sorts of apples in the city of Almaty
I’ll take you to Beirut we'll go nuts on dried fruits
And the coffee with vanilla we can try it in Manilla
I'll take you to Kashgar to shop at old bazaar
Then we'll fly a magic carpet to the markets of Qatar
We'll see ruins of Karakorum the old capital of Moguls
Then we'll go to Kathmandu and then Karachi and Kabul
We'll discover caves with treasures, make three wishes all at once
All at once will turn to a fairy tale, like in one and thousand nights
Let me show you feast of colors, take you cross the dunes in caravans
Even if I don't look like Alladin, I sure know a thing about romance
I'll take you to Taipei to see its lovely bay
We will sip on Coca Cola on the silky sands of Goa
I'll take you to Shanghai where towers touch the sky
And the best of architecture we will see in precious Petra
We'll go to Ashgabat, Bishkek, Busan, Baghdad
We will see Great Wall of China and Cambodian Angkor Wat
We'll see the Everest, mount Fuji, Gobi Desert
And it's certainly my pleasure to take you all around Asia!
Apr 3, 2022
Apr 3, 2022 at 10:07 PM UTC
I sit holding my aching head in calloused hands
experiencing ‘forlorn’
a worn soul aged beyond the calendar
dreary eyes look upon the state of humanity
irradiated babies trading rabies with deviants
live on pay per view
seeing the shape of famous faces
manipulated flesh blankly posed
only desperate oculars show the truth
darting frantically form mirror to mirror
attempting to validate existence through reflection
but not like the monks in Tibet
regret fills bent cheekbones
spackled with Botox and raspberry jam
thinning peak aligns with the occasional grey strand
and I sit wishing only to see people love themselves
Mar 7, 2014
Mar 7, 2014 at 2:53 PM UTC
Lining up batteries of anti-aircraft anti-everything
all anti- something this and that
distribution centre for psychological pressure
backed by radio, TV presidents staring straight
newspapers, journals and dialogues around
flash round tables on the whys how’s and who’s
sneaky microphone hidden in flower pots,
long distance listening devices. Telephones tapped
wives tapped, senior diplomats and doormats tapped
wives tapped on shoulders
whispered to: watch out for Joe blogs he has a roving eye.
see me tonight, after dinner.
The russians have warship A into Zone B
the chinese have shifted anti-missile up
the mountains near tibet, near nepal
near taiwan, near the hormuz straits
into africa, zimbabwe, fiji, and northern china
who cares. Tomorrow they will shift out again.
the pressure is building in the ukraine, turkey is on fire
The north koreans have no power
as seen from satelllites
The president has run of tomato sauce so he has asked
for a shipload from us of a
ship it with some spies dressed as tomatoes
god its killing me
these acupuncture points
three more needles please!
Author Notes
Relentless. ( an wacky I s'pose). Think about it all.
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved.
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 4:20 PM UTC
"BUG"
I saw a Bug Battle,
in the cracks of the street Blood and Struggle
Their plastic screams and cellophane curses were almost like yours and mine.
Until a brave one crawled to my ear,
and he told me of his trial in the street crack theater,
I grinned as if I cared, he smiled like he had the time
He said "in whose camp does your banner fly, and can I have you on my side?"
He loaded a Pistol while I replied:
I said: I'm anti-pro no shout catechist, so keep your pamphlets political activist,
You take your cause for lack of a purpose in life,
pursuit of happiness, "eudemonia" good spiritedness
you're living proof that ignorance aint bliss
Pray "Libira nos a malo!" and Free Tibet!
But you never prayed for the souls with affixed Bayonets;
so I wave like the man being shot from the cannon;
born on this chunk of warm rock hurling through nothing;
who only on the front of spirit can fight;
Storm the Bastille of desperate life;
and dance in the street every night till the day I die.
The Bug Replied:
Know All, Know all, in the dialog to win,
two grants are a Franklyn one Lincoln's just a fin?
Posit value for this bug since you're so well balanced,
gaining perspective from the outermost valence;
you never killed what you eat and confuse "labor with action,"
but you think you're to evolved to fight for my faction;
We're currency baby as we live and breed,
BASTILLE for you ATTICA for me!
better get in the frae my anti anti teacher
before it ***** you along with every other fighting creature;
I'm going back to me cell where I breathe a little freer;
but let me give a final though like I'm Jerry Springer:
If happiness is purpose than you can call my purpose love,
to survive I fight the Battle and to me you're the bug.
Thunderstruck, I sat on the curb,
realizing I could be a "social surd;"
then I saw my small confessor get killed in a raid;
I would have stomped out his assassin if I wasn't so afraid;
instead I rose to my feet, and walked straight home,
locked myself in, and wrote out this song,
I think of the bug while I'm dancing in the street,
every time my neighbor throughs a sneaker at me;
I feel his wrestles spirit longing to fight,
while I'm drinking and singing in the middle of the night,
than it hits me:
The bug was right
Nov 20, 2013
Nov 20, 2013 at 9:04 PM UTC
In any convergence of creative-minded people there exists a massive potential for positive change. Internet platforms included. Let's make use of this energy and bring awareness to the things we feel strongly about!
I'm asking yall to write poems about change! Social, Ecological, Cultural CHANGE! Let's address specific issues! Let's stop fracking, and plastic, and war, and hunger, and child labor, and let's free Tibet! Let's bring attention to pollution and corporate crime! Let's heal our wounds and bring our ills to the light! I know we can~
I created a collection called poets for change
please post here:
~~~~~~ http://hellopoetry.com/collection/2821/poets-for-change/ ~~~~~~
Our voices united are powerful and beautiful
tell your friends! spread the word!
REPOST THIS SHIZZ!
Let's show the World~
Mar 14, 2014
Mar 14, 2014 at 1:42 PM UTC
this is the news: a strange to do with all strange. some other kiwi in the hissing bliss of a fine day.
the spoils of bounty are ludicrous in disarray. a jumble of lumpkin, festooned in prayer-wheels and Tibet.
a fountain of open hands.
on the brink... on the terrace of counterfeit pantomimes
a man of days
darning socks and ultraviolet, with quasars for aspic.
a drunk pirouette -
bereft.
love is the one jungle you know when you're lost, and the last thing that made sense. All day.
the spoils of bounty are numinous, always. a trundle of frump-kin, immune to what feels like a guess.
" i refuse to sell my daddy's ranch! "
if you blink... i might tell you where you lost your mind.
an ace of spades
a Goldilocks and ultra violence, with ****** for aspirin.
a defunct smidgen
of less.
Oct 31, 2012
Oct 31, 2012 at 1:18 PM UTC
Keep your fists in the air,
Like the line from my favorite Beastie Boys song, “You’ve gotta fight for your right”
Making sacrificial lambs of your youth
I wish the Dalai Lama would commend you
Young warriors
Keeping your heritage wrapped around the soles of your feet as you march in protest
Crying out for help,
I feel the torment of hypocrisy
I am disgusted,
How can we be so blind?
How can we put our want for economic stability over the extermination of an entire culture?
The Middle Way is no way to go
The 21st century equivalent to the Trail of Tears
The silent “members” of the Chinese society
Fight tooth and nail for the right to speak your language
It is beautiful.
Dec 12, 2011
Dec 12, 2011 at 4:37 PM UTC
It was called the rooftop of the world
And I stood closer to the heavens than I ever had before.
The permafrost chill bit at my fingers
And the silence,
Oh the silence.
But I felt at home in the sense
That I had everything I needed.
I was closer to those things
Which I had previously thought
Impossible to reach.
I felt the presence of my mother,
And the memory of my father.
This place where peace is found
Gave me a new sense of life
In all of its meanings.
I couldn’t tell you what we’re here for
But I know that it starts and ends
Somewhere in Tibet.
Feb 21, 2013
Feb 21, 2013 at 9:28 PM UTC
The sands of El Dorado
Lash my tongue under tarp;
Wishes born something golden,
Fried eggs under beds
And homes, abodes in progress,
One peso at a time –
A tale and tear with every grain,
An allowance and granted only
Broken window.
The ragged lump of pillow
Where I now taste time,
Reeks of mescal with my
One white elbow
Tapping one bronze elbow;
Distant, under woven wanderings
And tattered dreams of parents
Wishing well – come subtle guilt,
Whilst the roofs of a prior Tibet
Tap atop my tether.
And while I ponder what strums –
Atriums, tempest and tubular,
I also reckon in what it means to be
Held and held alike
So that I can protect
And protect alike;
She’s waiting for me in “before”
And in Mexico, in the “now,”
So much sooner the past.
So to sooner, broken the future.
And so mothers will cry in kitchens,
Others laugh come the next fool
And yet others, abandon others
So that soon, recklessly soon, my feet
Make a wonderful twist toward away;
But at least I’d had this sunset –
Something to ride off into like the
Liquid dreams off a furrowed brow
And at least we’d had “we” on more time.
Just one more time.
Jul 13, 2016
Jul 13, 2016 at 11:46 PM UTC
Never Say its over,
Never say its done,
You don't want to be the one,
That has to go the parents and tell
Them that it was their children who were hit and fell.
Never Forget,
The past is never just behind us
History is never just history, thus
Why do we have tragedies
That saying is a Flacie
Rwanda. Congo, Tibet, all cracks,
Proof, that we must always look back.
Never Say it just happened then.
Even now in a world that contains,
Many marvelous wonders it remains,
In places like Syria, and Darfur.
There are always people slaughtering the poor
It persists even today,
We must never stray,
In memory to those who fell in the millions
To those who **** innocent civilians.
Never Say, its over.
Never say we’ve won
There is never a time it is actually done.
Perhaps there will be a day.
When love will emerge from the frey.
Jan 1, 2013
Jan 1, 2013 at 9:52 PM UTC
The world is this, the world is that
The world is a lie, the world is truth
All I know is I'm leaving it soon
And I am loved, so I'll try to love everybody else
And hope that they'll love me too
Everyone knows, that the birds fly away when it's cold
And they come back when they're good and ready
And we are the same, we play the same game
Just by a different name and we
Wont stop, til we're good and ready
And I'm pretty sure that the world has cancer
I'm pretty sure it's true
I'm pretty sure that the world has cancer
I'm pretty sure it's me and you
Self righteous son of a *****
Cast your judgment on everyone else
And say it's the word of God
But if God loves you, why do you hate us so much?
I'm beginning to think you're just a fraud
You turned your god into a trophy around your neck
And words in some book
But there will come a day when the pain is too much for you to handle
And no sense of pride will be able to save you
And I'm pretty sure that the world has cancer
I'm pretty sure it's true
I'm pretty sure that the world has cancer
I'm pretty sure it's me and you
And everyday is the same thing
Just another victim of some sort of tragedy
And I guess that is all that's coming my way
I could easily end it today
I remember when I was young and grateful for
The few people I knew
But now I got my cellphone, Myspace and Facebook
And I got crazy trying to keep up with all the people I know
You've got your bumper sticker on the back of your car
Telling me to free Tibet and save mother earth
But I suggest you get off your lazy *** and do some actual work
We are destroying just to build bigger cities
And towers to scrape the sky
We are dead consumers living in our dead societies
And our bodies pile up so high
And I'm pretty sure that the world has cancer
I'm pretty sure it's true
I'm pretty sure that the world has cancer
I'm pretty sure it's me and you
https://spencercarlson.bandcamp.com/track/im-pretty-sure-this-world-has-cancer
Jan 26, 2015
Jan 26, 2015 at 8:59 PM UTC
After the first sleep comes the second morning,
the realm of meditative calm,
gifts we forgot we left ourselves,
in the time that time forgot,
in the lands we left behind.
In Tibet, the most skilled monks cover
great distances using the mantra
of the Lung Gom, a rhythmic matrix
leap. i use a car or my
memory to achieve the same.
As a child i captured fireflies from
my grandmother's back yard,
holding them captive in a jar
until they proved themselves,
making me their Gom Jabbar.
Now later along i feel the vibration
of life in my car as i drive.
i have no wish to synchronize
with it. My rebellious days
are mostly over, or few in number.
My subconsciousness has accepted
my inevitable death. That is
alignment enough, nature's Gom
Jabbar to my neck, regardless
of what i prove before:
like the fireflies in the jar...
like the death rattle of my car...
like the memories i sought,
struggling against union,
fearing the Gom Jabbar,
mouthing the Lung Gom.
Dec 1, 2013
Dec 1, 2013 at 10:12 PM UTC
Bleached, flimsy plaster makes four corners
Dotted with a certificate and paintings:
Pictures from Nepal, Tibet, and Thailand
They pepper the muted eggshell surfaces:
Dots of color amongst a blank canvas
I hear storms, shrieks, and screaming throughout them
A hurricane can come whirling into these
Lifeless boundaries and give protection
But this empty plaster is nothing but
An aimless echo chamber from inside
Sep 16, 2018
Sep 16, 2018 at 3:03 PM UTC
If you were a place
you’d be a temple in Tibet.
You’d be cold as ice,
and hard to reach.
You’d be fraught with
danger and legend.
I could get lost for days
with no attention or
assistance.
Yes.
You would be a secret
temple in the mountains
of Tibet.
I would find you looking
for an answer, a cure
a purpose. Looking
for completion and peace.
I would leave
whole and calm
and perfect.
Feb 17, 2011
Feb 17, 2011 at 9:36 PM UTC
reconnected images
toes in rich soil
toiling under the yoke
spatially
fleeting fancy of freedom
fades
pages turn
returning me to the ground
I roamed as a child –
forgotten foothills
beacon
as property brokering
binds me to the earth
monetarily
owning my homeland
by the acreage –
white privilege escapist
seeking grid-less domain
sustainability with a suntan
in the cool Oregon rain
draining the infrastructure
through government backed loans
forever indebted
as the backs of my fellow countrymen
are buying my dream in America –
wrecked inspectors trek Tibet
for the almighty dolla dolla bill ya’ll
signing off on trash
commission driven misgivings
serving up dry rot and mold spots
on a flooded lot
I shield myself against the tide of ********
seeking information
in the age
namesake
heartbroken realtors
dot the horizon
holding contractual obligation
waving it frantically
begging –
seeking perfection
sneaking suspect-tion
any direction
needing contraception
fleeting misconception
leading to direct loans
hearing the same groans
as she is reading the next home
listing……..
throwing fists into the air
I swear
if I didn’t care so much
to handle the deed
I would rent
for
life –
Jan 13, 2015
Jan 13, 2015 at 11:31 AM UTC
the explorer of mountains dazed
mindless at the first glimpse
of primal space.
viceral worlds, diamond marshes
orbiting decaying stars.
the earth is nothing from here,
crags of tibet even less still.
could it be that
I never truly saw
what lay beyond the horizon?
now.
Jun 25, 2014
Jun 25, 2014 at 6:56 PM UTC
My playlist on Youtube writes itself into a poem
It elicits Love, Lust, Loss anger along with a few other emotions
Ratatat takes me on a tour of Rome
PHOX shows me how to dance in Slow Motion
John Denver joins me on the tour of Country Roads
Highlight Tribe encourages me to Free Tibet
Bioshock Infinite do I dream of with Schyman Elizabeth
Kavinsky with his beats, urging me to Outrun
Lose Sight now and again with Andrew Bayer and Ane Burn
Abandoned Pools take me down the memory lane in Clone High
Foo Fighters whisper in my ear that I too can Learn To Fly
COCAINEJESUS, Akira, beats and samples; I have PINEAPPLEKISSES
Cloud Nothing reminds me that I should Stay Useless
Discover A Little Opus as I take a ride on Little Comets
Sky Rabbit opine and observe the present In Our Times
Joey Badass shares with me his funky ideals of *World **********
Coheed and Cambria describe brotherhood in Key Entity Extraction
Geroge Ezra sings an ode to fathers in Listen to the Man
Perfect shows me the other side of the coin with Simple Plan
The Peppers tell a story of starting over covered in Snow
Shakey Graves says takes a chance and Roll the Bones
John Wayne Gacy Jr. the serial killer is immortalised by Sufjan Stevens
Imagine Dragons, the subconscious and fears come alive in Demons
Owl City tells a fantastic fable about insomnia in Fireflies
Ellie Goulding finds sweet slumber even in dark times in Lights
Sep 23, 2015
Sep 23, 2015 at 8:24 AM UTC