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The Element Of Love

by Danielle De Picciotto

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  • Record/Vinyl + Digital Album

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1.
Sea Of Stars 03:08
Would Jupiter be a nice place to live I wonder They say that there are green planets out there but light years away Is there a cosmos where peace is preferred to violence? When you look at cities at night from an airplane they look just like the stars.. maybe stars are cities in a universe in which joy resides Oh earth , you wondrous, wounded star will you survive? I see Aquarius twinkling from afar Is anybody out there?
2.
The Miracle Of the Dead Trees The Miracle of the dead trees Was that they were still alive Not only in the minds of man But deep under ground Expanding in silence And holding the soil In their embrace. Have you noticed that Roots resemble crowns And that their branches Are but extensions of the hidden Which feeds and nourishes them? Just as the cradle of existence Remains invisible to the external eye We see but the tip of the iceberg. The shape below remains concealed In spite of divers and drones We are united with the energy That guards and nourishes us From below and above But which we are blind to Not for lack of vision But for the lack of insight. The magician’s game Was to highlight the trivial To perform his magic act In the dark Leaving us to believe That the trick was the truth But as the concealed iron heart Of our former sun beats Beneath molten lava The hidden bones in our bodies Keep us upright. Our diurnal landscapes Are but charm bracelets Offering beautiful objects, Symbols mirroring The genuine Into a cheaper hue of gold. And Man is the negative space Within the relevant. We are the shadow of the shape We seek And our focus needs readjusting To the cause Instead of the effect And so the puzzle pieces Will fall into place Revealing the true picture.
3.
Solitude 02:59
4.
I believe we are super heroes In writhing amnesia Riddled by arrows, Bound to a lie Blind to the abyss Our wings torn, with halos of doom Dressed in black, shrouded in gloom We are super heroes with x ray vision That confine themselves to the collision Of mundane experience with petty power And everyday yellow press trash towers Preferring the security of a regular job Than saving the world from a lynch mob. We could vanquish all evil With a toss of our heads Shape shift to wizards Take dragons to bed It’s all at the tip of our tongue not the sword But we ignore our capacities Of the unexplored Kryptonite rays Ablaze in our hearts And instead trail the dull shine Of phone and computer parts Listening to the complex lies Of apes that revise truth As an advertised Bluetooth phone booth We are super heroes in turmoil Thrashing and crying entrapped in the mortal coil Depressed, overweight Cancerous centaurs Stuck in the wardrobe like dinosaurs Await news of a miracle Praying for Dumbledore Or a deadpan batman Blind to the fact that we are Aslan Weakened by denial, the sub dial Of our minds that can pierce stone But we bemoan our fate Worry that its too late and Take another Xanax, To calm our panic We who fly to the moon And have Einstein’s theory Truly underestimate our own glory. I believe we are super heroes With spectacular powers We collapse and rebuild The mightiest towers, Crumble walls with a single Sentence and fight successfully for independence Let the green lantern shine its legacy Over the bestiality of mans fall The writing on the wall shining bright On his monstrous destruction site And recall our original mission The transition, Of alchemy To restore As we were before, Our magical features The law of the heavens Our teachers And return to our predestined fate: To be beautiful creatures
5.
6.
Who Am I 02:51
Who am I? Who am I? My Egyptian father My German Mother My Italian Grandfather My Russian grandmother Who am I? My Egyptian father, a daughter My German Mother, a sister My Italian Grandfather, a lover My Russian grandmother, a wife Who am I? My Egyptian father, a daughter, a feminist My German Mother, a sister, a pacifist My Italian Grandfather, a lover, an activist My Russian grandmother, a wife, an artist Who am I? My Egyptian father, a daughter, a feminist, a musician My German Mother, a sister, a pacifist, a poet My Italian Grandfather, a lover, an activist, an author My Russian grandmother, a wife, an artist, a singer Who am I? My Egyptian father, a loyal wife, a daughter, a super bitch, a feminist, a hot cat on a tin roof, a musician My German Mother, a sad story, a sister, a pacifist, a happy ending, a poet, a breath of fresh air, My Italian Grandfather, an innocent mistake, a straight face, a lover, a bookworm, a Tiger mother, an activist, a beatnik, a nomad, an author, an old woman, a sex bomb My Russian grandmother, a young soul, a never ending story, a nervous giggle, a helpless shrug, a hot mess, a wife, an artist, a singer, a lost soul Who am I? I am all of this and more. We come out of chaos and our ships sail a wild sea. Up and down and up again. Up and down and up again. We are the captain and the pirate, the hangman and the savior.
7.
Do you remember how safe you felt as a child? In the arms of your mother On the shoulders of your father. Basking in the glory of innocence. They were King and Queen And you knew that nothing could ever go wrong. Do you remember how beautiful it was? Watching the afternoon sunlight slip along the wall, With the cat purring on your lap, Licking your face with its rough tongue, Fairytale books spinning their yarns of stories With the smell of pancakes floating in through the kitchen And the clinking and clanking of pots and pans announcing lunch. Feeling hot and sweaty and watching the cars fly by On the way home from a romp in the park and Knowing that a hot bathtub filled with soapy bubbles would be waiting And you knew the whole world was waiting for you. Oh the pure joy of birthdays with their cream-laden cakes and candles and chocolate everywhere. Do you remember the smell of the ocean and finding your first seashell, with a tiny crab hidden in its depths? Being stung by a bee in the grass. Buying your first comic book Discovering superheroes Watching Scooby Do and Aqua man and Daniel Boone On lazy Saturday mornings Eating cheese sandwiches and running through the forest in sneakers With your dog. Finding blueberries and hearing foxes in the distance. Do you remember carving your first jack o lantern on Halloween, Trick or treating as a Ghost and coming home laden with large brown paper bags filled with candy corn, apples, Reese’s and Hersheybars. Playing in the sandbox when your mother calling not to come home and you going anyway and the staircase dripping with blood and your neighbor being carried out, her red hair torn and disheveled. Running into poison ivy and having the blisters covered with pink calamine solution and lying at home with your library books And hearing the fat lady from downstairs screaming and yelling at her children. Do you remember Lassie, Little Joe and Skippy the Kangaroo and your parents fighting while you were watching TV thinking you wouldn’t hear? Do you remember your first bicycle and how you knew that you were finally a grownup on your ninth birthday when you got your first kiss? The trust you felt. The hope, And you knew that nothing would ever go wrong.
8.
Homesick 03:23
9.
Nacht 04:01 video
Ich wünschte mir es wäre immer Nacht Ich würde auf dem Rücksitz eines Taxis liegen Und ließe die Lichter endlos an mir vorüberziehen und würde mit dem Fahrer Kaffee trinken und in seine Welt versinken. Die trunkenen Menschen vor den Clubs Verschwinden lassen und ihre „Hoch die Tassen“ Es gäbe weder da noch hier Und der Mond glänzend, leuchtend wie eine Silber Tier Würde gnädig auf mein Antlitz strahlen. Den Schall und Rauch vom Nachmittag vergessen Verblassen und verschwinden Und endlich, endlich wieder Frieden finden. Das Radio leise spielen hören wie Das flüstern zweier Schwestern Und das Geschehen von Gestern fallen lassen in den schwarzen grauen Häusergassen Zwischen Halleschem Tor und Gleisdreieck Ohne Tasche und Gepäck Zwischen dem gehen und dem kommen Verschwommen Regentropfe spüren Durch die Fensterritze und der Wagentüre. Die Pfeife des Kutschers und seine Leder Weste riechen und mich in meinen Mantel Weiter noch Hinein verkriechen, Warum ist die Finsternis so schön So viel edler als das helle licht Ich weiß es nicht.
10.
Night Mares Galloping through the dark With roaring manes Shriek into my sleep And hurl me from my Dream into reality But only fiction makes sense now Reason slips back and forth From one corner to the next Devious as a cat with a bad conscious Always sliding by unnoticeably Just when I ´ve realized its not where I am It’s gone, again hiding in the shed Vomiting into the rat’s race. Why do I feel so forgotten in the face of evil Where have all the heroes gone But I don’t believe that God is dead He is my neighbor feeding the cat The grumpy grocer with his ancient baseball bat The firefighter risking his life And the mayor’s wife I don´t believe that God is dead He is the crazy lady wearing a wig The nurse with the scabs in her face, Leftovers from wearing a mask all day And her innocent daughter I don´t believe God is dead He is the politician that cares For the poor and the rich man Who shares more than he can Write off as a tax deduction I don´t believe God is dead He is a concept to aspire to Not a religion or rigid faith But a good hard look into your own face And soul, have you met up with the Challenge, what was the toll? Did the scale tip or flip to your side? But my dog howls And the water sprouts up out of my Sink into a boiling cascade that nobody drinks And sometimes I feel as if I´ve Been crying for years Tears of wrath and distress That suggest hopelessness Fury is what I feel most oft the time. Fury at the deceit, the cheap mime The lies and the injustice The moldy steak cut out of a dying cows thigh Served on a golden platter Garnished with rotting cheese And sold as a delicacy In our society In which the bees are dying On a scale so large That the universe seems Dwarfed by its obscenity. Little bits of shiny metal Swooping over my head in the sun Are they the North Korean invasion or just Poised forks ready to drop the bomb. And yet I don´t believe that God is dead His spirit is the beauty we had And the hope still there And an end to the nightmare.
11.
Danielle De Picciotto

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released February 14, 2021

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Danielle de Picciotto Tacoma, Washington

Born in Tacoma, Washington USA

Studied music & art in NYC

Works as interdisciplinary artist in the fields of art / film/ music/ literature/performance

Co-founder of Berlin "Loveparade"

Has exhibited at Zoo London Art Fair (England), Berliner Liste Art Fair (Germany)

Cooperation with German Cultural Goethe Institute in Hong Kong, Milan, Rome, Tokyo, Berlin, Prague, Sarajevo, Mexico City
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