Podcast Episode 15: Like A Dragon Newly Woken

https://craftedrecordings.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/02/Like-A-Dragon-Newly-Woken-8-final-mix.mp3 Podcast: Play in new window | Download (Duration: 13:01 — 29.8MB) Subscribe: iTunes | Android | RSS ©2017 Crafted Recordings. Some Rights Reserved (CC BY-NC-SA 4.0). A Love Song To Sacred Wild Water This episode came together out of love and gratitude. Quite literally, the piano music by Zoe Knight comes directly from a love song, and provides the musical structure of this episode. In working with the elements, my favorite Water devotional practice is gathering my own drinking water at a spring near my home, where the cleanest, most refreshing water Iâ€ve ever tasted flows like love from the ground. I recorded the sounds of the spring (and a water blessing) on one of my recent trips, and itâ€s a perfect sonic backdrop for this episode. The brilliant “Like A Dragon Newly Woken” poetry & performance narrative comes from Guests of the Earth, a performance group in the UK consisting of Nicolas Guy Williams, Peter Dillon, and Gods & Radicals writer Lorna Smithers. They were kind enough to send me an original sound recording of their performance by Terry Quinn. The music in this episode is piano and vocalizations written & performed by Zoe Knight, with bass, guitar, drums, spring field recordings, production, and mixing by James Lindenschmidt. Sound recording ©2017 Crafted Recordings. Some Rights Reserved (CC BY-NC-SA 4.0). This episode is dedicated with love and gratitude to the Aquifers and Water Protectors across the planet. Like A Dragon Newly Woken Red River Rushing by Nicolas Guy Williams deep in the heart ran the rusting river red earth mother rushing // under bridge leaping stone past old dripping wood bones // carrying the water out to far ocean earth bearing shoulder touching the knowing // cold as a whisper over grass leaping twilight ground keeping // hard the rain’s weeping stand upon cloud drenched land moans // deep in the heart ran the rusting river red earth mother rushing // through city’s soul shivers drenched by the cleansing // left handed path bouncing and bounding echo of rain on glass making tones // carrying the water out to far ocean earth bearing shoulder touching the knowing // the mud brown sliver shivering river bed broken and hushing // ocean’s demand to break over land like ice creaking over glacial stones // deep in the heart ran the rusting river red earth mother rushing // through moist eye surface oh come hither dry wither cease thy shivering // upon soaked sand ending dry land’s hold upon songs long forgotten by the wisdom of crones // carrying the water out to far ocean earth bearing shoulder touching the knowing // the feet of old mister dark coat floating memory of boating // through hardship unplanned by death and the sound of ships and their bones // deep in the heart ran the rusting river red earth mother rushing // carrying the water out to far ocean earth bearing shoulder touching the knowing Spirit of the Aquifer by Lorna Smithers, voiced by Lorna and Peter In eighteen eighty four a monolithic feat of engineering shifts the Ribble’s course: no water to the springs. From the hill’s abyssal deep a rumbling of the bowels, a vexed aquatic shriek: no water to the wells. Breached within the chasm a dragon lies gasping with a pain she cannot fathom: no water to the springs. Water table reft her giving womb unswells, surging through the clefts: no water to the wells. Unravelling inside her serpent magic streams to join the angry tides: no water to the springs. Culverted and banked her serpent powers fail, leaking dry and cracked: no water to the wells. The spinning dragon-girl tumbles from her swing and slips to the underworld: no water to the springs. Her spirit will not rise through the dead and empty tunnels, disconsolate we cry: no water to the wells. The hill, no longer healing stands broken of its spell, no water to the springs, no water to the wells. Four Wells by Lorna Smithers, voiced by Peter and Nick Four wells at Little Plumpton. Four wells at Roseacre. Four wells in the darkness between drilling and decision. Four wells of steel meets shale. Four wells boring into the mind. Four wells of screaming poison. Four wells of deadly sands of time. Four wells? A gaseous question scorches ears of invisible skies. Four wells? An uneasy whisper from underworld gods. Four wells to decide the future. Four wells of choice. Four wells of trembling. By word on four wells our land will be saved or destroyed. Drill Rig by Nicolas Guy Williams, voiced by Nick and Lorna it is like a metal horse eating the earth that drill stood still and chewing through layers of my stone skin it is like a robot mosquito sucking the earthblood that drill stood still and sucking through the veins of my flesh it is like a metal tick consuming the lifeforce that drill stood still and feeding all bloated on the stuff of my soul it can’t hear me screaming it can’t hear me screaming it can’t hear me shout it can’t hear me shout it can’t hear its poison it can’t hear its poison dissolving me out to a gas not worth breathing it’s burning it’s burning i’m screaming i’m screaming its waste is my doubt Anti-fracking Soliloquy by Nicolas Guy Williams, voiced by Peter the time of winter’s love does come upon the hearth and on the stone it creeps in moss and through the trees the portal of the dead to see the whispering wind doth stretch its hand to claim the passion of the land and thus curl around lost summer’s leaves to shake the branch the sun to breathe and pierce the bones of all the folk of forest fell of hill and mount the love of ice the love of frost whose cold caress creeps in the dark around the house around the hill the rivers rise the rain comes down the sun grows pale the moon demands that earth to cold doth turn its hand but summer spirit seeks still its turn the air may learn the air may learn that by the hand of man and sun the atmosphere alerts as do the chemicals in the earth and now they seek oh yes they seek to gather more unto the bleak they seek to frack the hypodermic toxic jack and spill the winter’s love but spring is strong inside our hearts and the fight against fracking is our fire as deep as our old sun we start in the love of winter in the love of glistening mother earth and from our heart we start Proud of Preston by Lorna Smithers The voice of Belisama, goddess of the Ribble: Proud of Preston heed my entry Hear the call of ancient memories Hearts purloined by Roman sentries Like a river shining bright. Proud of Preston born free traders Made by commerce and hard labour Merchants gilded artists favored Like the Brigantes warred in tribes. Mechanics shift the scene of battle Raise the red brick smog industrial Cording hearts like twisting material On the wheels of the cotton lords. Step the Chartists to the engines Pull the plugs release the tension The rioters face the sentries Dye the river dark with blood. Grey arise the business faceless Fake fulfillment for the faithless Mass the market for the tasteless Selling life for capital. High in the stone fortress The sentries hold their rule Beyond the mall and office Do you hear a river call? Proud of Preston I have carved you In my sweeping spirit formed you Through your veins floods dazzling water My Setantii shining bright. Will you hearken to my entry Drown false dreams in ancient memories Will the proud of Preston Like a shining river rise? The Activist Said by Nicolas Guy Williams, voiced by Nick and Peter is like a bush-break-bead-bone born from what the hurricane missed this oh so nonchalant idea of distance sun seared so cerebral tone that crone-corn in the drying field a fist ferocious free fall frozen in street moments gaze grown atonements of a prize-praised eye oh so diligent in polite society here is the bombchord the cold ordered class called what pierceth earth doth pierceth heart like broken glass like broken glass do i have to ask which Herculean task this voice must break over the record of a snake sneered volatile habit of wrong thought ain’t no money-honey in the poor in the poor and whilst virgin forest is persecuted for gold whilst industry doth chemical-rape our innocent earth and whilst bankuponbank can take from folk both home and hearth for their false wealth we will live in the fierce dawn like that first fire draw line-carved dont’s across their most hearted won’t-stops and be in our strong silence stoic grim where thought and voice are force are force and revelation is a choice a choice and stand on stone with stone born mind with eyes that set their worlds on fire like a dragon newly woken