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Sigil
A sigil is defined as a inscribed painted symbol,
that is considered to possess magical energy.
This would be our archaic definition of this
as we as a society have already made signs
and symbols to define our products like:
A star on a gas station sign or the fact that certain buildings
and cities world wide are in the shape of magic symbols.
It is a seal, yet for all the symbols I have recently seen from
the internet,
the older symbols of the elder ages seem to represent to me the real belief.
As each line or archaic symbol represents a part of the essence of belief itself.
Fly Free
In the distant meadow, butterflys fly free.
Need love sin and misery,
Need a song to make the golden calf live again.
Need someone to take the blame.
In the sigil you'll see the name.
A constant state of change.
As dreams rearrange.
In the distant mouuntain paths .
The darkness sheds it's light.
Dawn comes to free up the night.
Daylight to balance the dark skies.
Daylight to balance the dark skies.
In the distant meadow, butterflys fly.
Above the mountains and into the sea.
Fly free,
Fly free
Oh so leisurely
A state of change.
Dreams rearrange.
Fly free,
Fly free
Oh so leisurely
In the distant meadow the voices of beasts rage.
Now, down the mountain path to meet the sage.
I've dreamed of our meeting for days.
here I learn the truth of it all.
In the distant paths .
The darkness sheds it's light.
Dawn comes to free up the night.
Daylight to balance the dark skies.
Daylight to balance the dark skies.
In the distant meadow.
The beasts scream
I am traveling into the dream.
Here to meet the the voices in between.
And I'll
Fly free,
Fly free
Oh so leisurely.
In the distant mouuntain paths
The darkness sheds it's light.
Dawn comes to free up the night.
Daylight to balance the dark skies.
Where I wil fly free.
No limits for me.
Gonna free up the night
In the distant twilight.
Oh fly free as there's no limit for me.
Fly free,
Fly free
Oh so leisurely
Need a song to make the golden calf live again.
Need love sin and misery,
Need someone to take the blame.
In the sigil you'll see the name.
No limits for me.
Gonna free up the night
In the distant twilight.
© Brian Burchette/Unknown Sounds
Reberhead
11-14-22
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The Darkness
BY BRIAN BURCHETTE
This is the darkness that led you there.
Dreaming of flowers and long flowing hair.
You were seduced by a stare into the absence
Of everything there.
The nothingness,
Absent of life and existence.
This is the darkness that led you there.
To be without a care.
To be jaded with a beautiful soul.
To be cold when there is warmth.
To be broke mentally with a plastic smile for the world!
To be the one who dreamed great dreams,
Only to awaken in a H.R. Giger, scene of monstrosity.
Sometimes seems reality is lost to me.
This is the darkness that led you there.
Dreaming of flowers and long flowing hair.
They want everything powerful but that's going to be their downfall.
When the stragglers of broken dreams stand and show the tears.
When there is nothing but fear and atrocity of those in charge.
This is the darkness that led you there.
Dreaming of flowers and long flowing hair.
It's tough to see the light when,
It's a faded scene.
It's hard to laugh when it's a macabre play.
Come sit in the parlour where the walls are Grey.
This is the darkness that led you there.
Dreaming of flowers and long flowing hair.
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You never stopped to talk, but you lived to tell the tale.
And I await your reply
Tell a story that will make us wonder around for days
And a story that will never leave us at the same old place.
Get back to your sense of ability,
Reaching up into your memories,
To me, you begin to shine
Tell a story that will make us wonder around for days,
And a story that will never leave us at the same old place.
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State of communications broken rusted weathered down
Dusted doors the hinges rusted no one’s open or around
3 o’clock in the morning, and the city stays asleep
Left me dreaming of the demons as I sweat myself asleep
Where is my hope to compensate for all the things I left behind
Thought I was searching , eyes wide shut, where’s my soul?, I think I’m dying
My body walks around, my mind is stuck full throttle
Nothing to be offered to me but a pipe or a bottle
If I pitch a tent in hiding, the K-9s sense my trail
Police cut through the fold like a check out of the mail
I thought I’d get to lay my head around the time before daylight
Just thought I’d get some sleep in the last part of the night
They clip my wrists in cuffs and they say that it’s a felony
Said it’s a new law that has only passed in Tennessee
They read me my rights very quickly yet grammatically
An hour to get packed or I’m in the penitentiary
2 hots and a cot in exchange for my freedom
The right to vote, to hold a weapon, to go in a state building
Where I need to go in order to talk to the legislation
To talk about the lives without a home in devastation.
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LVZVZVL [A METAPHORICAL STATE] BY Brian Burchette (assisted by reberhead)
When the artist is in this metaphoric, butterfly like state, of change.
As with a caterpillar that just shed its cocoon.
As wings lift the body to a great flight.
It is all this reasoning
Which will decide the outcome of the sound.
A loaf of whole wheat bread too.
Eating garlic by the cloves.
In this metaphoric, butterfly-like state
I feel there is no more need to hesitate
I have ambition, it doesn’t need to wait
I am the pilot standing at this open gate
No need to name the guide to a predestined fate
I will take charge of my own life, that I proliferate
No television needed to remark my feats of flight
I revolve around my own body of sacred burning light
I eat the fruit of ancient rising vines
I will not be herded mindless, inline
Trying to live long enough to publish a book or C.D.
Feeling needy but I am alone.
Want to write but don't have a poem.
Dreaming thoughts unknown.
Yeah, Dreaming thoughts unknown.
Hip trip slide trombone.
Modern beat twist recorded on my phone.
Was told once.
Your words are into the now, Today, ah.
When the artist is in this metaphoric,
butterfly like state, of change.
As with a caterpillar that just shed its cocoon.
As wings lift the body to a great flight.
It is all this reasoning
which will decide the outcome of the sound.
Say what's happening?
What you digging on?
Yeah, that's right on.
© Brian Burchette & REBERHEAD
and UNKNOWN SOUNDS,
11-10-22
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I still cry
The salt in my tear drops burn my eyes
I still cry
Rain washing paint right off our faces
We wear to hide
The grace that would forsake us this time
I will cry
And the salt in my tears will injure my sight
You still reside
In my inner I
Deep inside my inner eye
Resting in peace you I find
And staring at the sun will make me blind
You were too kind
To warn me of things that would make me blind
Now I find that grace escapes me on this very night
When you take flight
Never to return, I guess this is how those of us left behind
Lose our minds, and learn that life
Was with us all along and we turned away
Forgetting what we have we looked away
And now today, I am here, and you are far away
You still reside in my inner eye
And these images of you bring me to cry
And the salt in the tear drops burn my eyes
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GLAZE by Reberhead Koci
Sometimes at night I rewind
And I am reminded of all the things
That all the people in my life did together
Around traditional tree
While outside the ground was glazed
When I remember, I am amazed
Of the time that has passed by
And all the few that still reside
That I can call, and remind, of the old times
Few of them reside, but all are still alive
In my mind and wherever else
They may have found; I hope they like it
There beyond the clouds and glaze of ice
And think of when we were around the tree
Standing on flakes of sacred geometry
In the ice, I see a reflection, I see inside my mind
Memories so kind, warm and cozy,
I will never forget
And I will never solve
The mystery of the rising
The secrets of the fall
Through winter winds a path
Through time, our frontier
May we meet again After countless passing years
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Aim towards the sky
By: reberhead
All eyes faced towards the sky
Until we die
All eyes on the sky
We have this night
Defy the gravity of light
Painful pull of earth
Now it’s our time
To reach into the night sky
And dream of home
Do you remember
what it was like
When we were home
Before we came out of the cave
Before our birth
from mother’s womb
Now days we plan our time for flight
But first before we ascend
Are they coming back again
Always said they would one day
An effigy carved in the snow
We stay to watch it melt away
Always said they would return one day
If they did, what would we do and say?
And our eyes still scan the sky.
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10. |
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Say your piece
Play for keeps
The book you wrote this way
Intertwined
Soul in knots
Untangle, unwind
Deep peeled black heart,
The center of a being
Layers digging up the soil
See you again but not for the longest time
Not for the longest time
Not for the longest time
Those who we love who no longer speak the words we speak
Who no longer walk this world I think
But in the corner of my eye while I blink
Shake my head with shaking hands
Failed to tell you half of everything, that I felt, and I’m left wondering
All the things that I forgot I guess you took them to your grave
I will wonder through these woods; hope I see you again
Another time, another world, that I can only imagine
Mother of my world and all I have
I will never let go I will never break away
Like it was yesterday when I would embrace you
Just like the ledge of the canyon we fell into
I could easily say it all in a phrase or two
The point in time, the hand that was bestowed to you
Hoyle deck missing a spade or two
Recessive traits that made me bound to you
I will wonder through these woods; hope I see you again
Another time, another world, that I can now only imagine
Like it was yesterday
I will never let go I will never break away
To roads divided by a river that will cut through
Just like the ledge of the canyon we fell into
I am invited inside to hide me from the rain
I’ll never look into your eyes again
A detonation set off sequence of time
Left with no more mountains to climb
I can climb this stairwell, but I know it will not lead to you
Two roads separated by a river that will cut through
Mother of my world and all I have is how I remember you
I will never let go I will never break away
I will wonder through these woods; I hope I see you again
Another time, another world, that I can now only imagine
hope that hope will not continue in the quicksand sinking
I have your wisdom that will see me though
And I know these pictures will not amount to you
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11. |
REBERHEAD - REMAINS
04:57
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12. |
REBERHEAD – KONQUISTE
04:39
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REBERHEAD - KONQUISTE
It doesn’t matter what you think
I know, you will do what you’ll do
And to you it doesn’t matter who it affects
Only how it affects you
And I don’t want to change you
But all of this must end
This is nothing personal
But you are not what I call a friend
Or an individual who shares interests of anyone at all
You are obviously
Only here for the taking
So come on out, stake your claim
See if in the long run
If it will even mean a single thing
Value is in the timeless things
Not in your shallow timely meddling
If we should die alone, what would be the last thing we think
What we have gained, what we’ve attained doesn’t mean a damn thing
If we have no way to take to the next uncertain shore
I just want familiar peace, and you just want more puzzle pieces
Of cardboard cut outs by jigsaw, collect them all, one more final move
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XIII By: Brian Burchette
Thirteen candles all aglow.
Wander the graveyards all alone.
A voice bemoans.
Disgruntled tones in the afterlife.
Afterlife, Afterlife,
Beyond the pale of now.
The souls re-animate.
Moving hesitant in their lifeless movement,
Of limbs with savage intent.
Of a afterlife scene.
Like still moving images from the horror magazine.
In the afterlife.
The afterlife.
Deep into the macabre.
A dark play.
Moonlight always.
In the afterlife, The afterlife.
Thirteen candles all aglow.
Wander the graveyards all alone.
Polarity shift, the cold air and the mist.
Oh thirteen candles glowing in the window sill.
Beyond the pale.
Still moving images from the horror magazine.
Deep into the macabre.
A dark play.
Moonlight always.
In the afterlife, The afterlife.
Afterlife, Afterlife,
Voices bemoan
Disgruntled tones
In the afterlife.
Thirteen candles all aglow.
Wander the graveyards all alone.
Beyond the pale.
Still moving images from the horror magazine.
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Reberhead Cookeville, Tennessee
Producing Witchouse, Industrial, Darkwave and other dark things.
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