Tiger

Greetings, Listeners,

Hope this extra-profound-rebirth-themed spring is treating everyone well! This week’s feature comes from a writer we’ve showcased before: an infinitely thoughtful and talented young lyricist named Aulton. He’ll be the headliner for this month’s Neurolyrical Café (a free, online open mic featuring poetry and music by nonspeaking and unreliably speaking spellers; more info here), which takes place tonight at 7pm Eastern. In preparing for the event, I conducted a written interview with Aulton about his songwriting process, in which he explained, “When I write a song, I’m thinking calming thoughts based on what I have seen or heard lately. I let my imagination pause and rewind while I listen to the day. Time slows and I start collecting musical ideas. Sometimes, I get caught in choruses that take over my life.”

Much of what’s been on Aulton’s mind – and, indeed, many minds around the world – is the changing climate, and the ways it threatens each of our planet’s inhabitants, human and nonhuman alike. Aulton wrote this song in solidarity with one of those creatures, the tiger; the piece is a masterwork of compassion and fellow-feeling, and I’m honored to share it here:

Tiger, tiger

Stay still in the jungle

Tiger, tiger

Have you been hastening to manage the night?

Rain and haze don’t destroy candlelight

Ignore hammering heart, heart, heart

And silent tears, tears, jinx tomorrow’s

Omens of ominous directions and nemesis 

Alters great fears 

Tiger, tiger

Simmer instincts in halls of gore

Tiger, tiger

Gems eyes tell mysterious gleams

Of banishment, signal teams to seal the seams

Tigers lay shining 

By kingdoms of love

Tomorrow sounds like a madness

Games taste of riot 

And worry

Creating intense sadness 

Tiger, tiger

Needs remembering

Tiger, tiger

Begins to see healing in hands

Of hope, inside the stones and sands

If you’d like to hear more, please consider joining us at the Neurolyrical Café this evening. Either way, I’m sending best wishes, and many thanks for listening.

Simmering instincts,

Brian