Ohadi

i heard once:

      If you love something…

              wait for the knocking on the door

              wait for the calluses to drip to the floor

              your fingers to shed their long nails

              to drop to a hollow body and

              wait for

              the vibes that buzz away your red and white bandaged blues to

              black clippings of notes left on the linoleum

              just before

              she pricks your fingertips and begins the bloodletting

              and lets the beat trail down your cheeks

              to be swept off the frets

              wait for

              the rocking in your shoulders

              the roll of your bones

              to hum like strings and

              laugh out your throat broken chords that

              that stress

              that stretch

              that snapped!

              that you snipped to

      …give it away.

                                - Jordan, 成都 2012 

death as an entry. alarm clock song. a silver chord. a

sovereign law. listen to the breathing, time synthesized.

 eat what is living, until it’s your time.

            hussh, husssh,

                        this is your lullaby…

                                         -Jordan, BSU 2011

p.s.

i am going to turn this blog into one more concentrated towards my writings and music.

i might still post things about my time in china. or i might add another blog. not sure.

anyways, here is my attempt at being a writer!

休息吧！

Ohadi! 

 If we sit on this park bench

that is older than our country

and chew on our Charleston Chews

our mouths may water over and

flood this world, rid this world of all our sins

and be cleansed by a new plan with

a Sodom hand and a Gomorrah grudge;

on this park bench that is older than our country

in the county of kings, where a king slew the giant

                                    I look at your eyes

                                    it is high noon and

you are worried about the chocolate dripping

down your wrist for the first time,

dripping down, like forsaken tears waiting to be burned for the final time

            and it looks like salt in your smile

            but I’d love to drown in that lake of fire.

                                                     -Jordan Crider, BSU 2011

“Hear me, four quarters of the world—a relative I am! Give me the strength to walk the soft earth, a relative to all that is! Give me the eyes to see and the strength to understand, that I may be like you. With your power only can I face the winds.
Great Spirit, Great Spirit, my Grandfather, all over the earth the faces of living things are all alike. With tenderness have these come up out of the ground. Look upon these faces of children without number and with children in their arms, that they may face the wind and walk the good road to the day of quiet.
This is my prayer; hear me!”

A Tidal Tryst

The moon drifts above, watching over his love

While the whales in the sea, sing of her beauty

And her waves comb the shore, a kiss he adores

Cause every time he’s in sight, she raises her tide

Desire is a dance, their rhythmic romance

The breeze her perfume, ocean flowers in bloom

His phases are steps that sway with her hips

And the glow he reflects, it spotlights their movements

And the stars chime a tune

They collide in lullabies

For a lady blue and her faithful moon

And their embrace fades away

As the sun brings back the day

Then her kiss shrinks to swell

And left on a beach is their love

In a sea shell…

Put a sea shell to your ear

And listen to the dance of devotion reappear

Of a coastline constellation that pines

Over a lady blue and her faithful moon.

                       -Jordan Crider, 成都 2012

i miss my truck.

driving during my 15 minute break at hastings. seeing my dad at the gas station. you bought me the arizona tea i was going to buy. it made my day to see you dad.

thanks for the smile. and thanks for the short conversation.

and thanks for the drink.

i love you dad.

i miss my dad.