Chris Connelly y Monica Queen My Father Took Me Everywhere

Chris Connelly y Monica Queen tienen en The Birthday Poems, álbum que ficcionaliza el romance de George Mackay Brown con Stella Cartwrigh, y su amistad con Stanley Roger Green, un ejercicio multidisciplinario cuya lírica se basa en los poemas que George obsequiaba a Stella cada año en su cumpleaños, y luego de presentar éste material con Tae The Poets, nos presentan a nuestra protagonista femenina con un vídeo promocional basado en el corto de 1964, Palindrome de Margaret Tait, que como dato curioso presenta el único pietaje conocido de la musa, siendo ésta representación una realización que corre a cargo de Iain W. Mutch / Walkerandwilliam, para acompañar éste extracto del material que estará en plataformas digitales como Apple Music y Spotify a partir del 15 de Junio próximo, disponible ya como preventa en www.thebirthdaypoems.com.

My Father Took Me Everywhere es la declaratoria de identidad de aquélla musa que, más allá de ser fuente de inspiración, se sabe un ente creativo y, a partir de la definición y entendimiento de su origen y formación, da un paso al frente para dejar en claro que sus ambiciones y aspiraciones en la vida van más allá de lo que posesión material alguna pudiera representar.

Chris Connelly y Monica Queen, My Father Took Me Everywhere…

My father took me everywhere
My childhood nights were passed
In lively houses, theatre bars
Of the middle and upper class
The handshake draughtsmen
Straight-eyed poets
Scribes of wit and conflict
Cheerful barbs being traded in jest
I watched, i listened, and kept it
On weekends, with our voices full
We’d sing and climb the hills
The weekdays spent in whispered boasts
In a uniformed school for girls
I reaped in fields of literature
From zola to james joyce
And in those times of childhood rhymes
I found my poet’s voice
In gold mines, riddled with words
I spread my arms like a bird, and fly
With the life spring high in my heart
It can be a strange game
But it’s the beauty of art
So why do i sometimes wake when i’ve died in my sleep?
All that knew, said you don’t want to go there,
But i’m going in deep,
I want to come out alive with something precious to keep
My mother tried with patience
Her frustrations with us both;
A dreamy teen of a daughter
And a man with a drinker’s oath
And when she woke amid stale smoke,
Her home is disarray,
My dad, and drunk acquaintances
Were told to go away
But me, i loved his passion, and his painting
And his pride
I thrived on introductions
To the friends we met each night,
What closely guarded secrets
Could these men of words impart?
Then i became the rose street muse,
And i took them to my heart
In gold mines, riddled with words
I spread my arms like a bird, and fly
With the life spring high in my heart
It can be a strange game
But it’s the beauty of art
So why do i sometimes wake when i’ve died in my sleep?
All that knew, said you don’t want to go there,
But i’m going in deep,
I want to come out alive with something precious to keep

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