..soulful -- : The Pit :

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Date Posted: 22:15:07 06/26/02 Wed
Author: westin
Author Host/IP: spider-ti034.proxy.aol.com / 152.163.194.189
Subject: ..soulful

[mobilized pedates ascend the mounted obstruction, lithe chassis halted squarely center-stage. with no hesitancy, the treasured instrument, her only possession of any real value, is lifted from its ruggedly worn case, slinging the strap comfortable over a shoulder, strumming experimentally. fluid strides carry insidious vix up to the mic, pallid labs with their earthly sheen catching stray luminence. confident, clear tone relays her proposition, stated with open clarity, seizing the opportunity. no expectancy quavered in the confident timbre, simply taking the chance to address everyone at once. takers weren't expected, as there wasn't exactly a lack of female vocalists, but she was willing to try.]

if anyone needs a singer- lead, backups, whatever ... i'm looking for a band to join.

[feral wisps of hair are brushed from the piercing spectrum, concentration shifted fully to the instrument in her care. delicate, slender fingers stroke the garnished horsehair, conjuring a melody of its own allure. graceful chanteuse steps back up to the mic, sudden words flowing from the delicate, lubricated labrums with ease.]

step out the front door like a ghost into the fog
where no one notices the contrast of white on white
and in between the moon and you the angels get a better view
of the crumbling difference between wrong and right

[twin labs, so sensuously curved, spill out syllables, words with a higher meaning. no holds barred, temptress gives it her all, the sultry contralto washing through the sound system, leaving purity in its wake.]

round here we always stand up straight
round here something radiates
i walks along the edge of where the ocean meets the land
just like i'm walking on a wire in the circus
i know i'm more than just a little misunderstood
round here we all look the same
round here we talk just like lions
but we sacrifice like lambs
i can't see nothing, nothing round here
catch me if i'm falling

[haunting timbre ceases slowly, leaving nothing to wonderment, as if her soul has been bared. delicate eyelids drift open, viewing the crowd as if just returning from a far-away place. bruja makes her way off stage, already finding fault with the performance. no applause? no shit. she hadn't expected approval. wasn't their kind of music. hell, she could do punk, it was her alter ego, but on nights like this, soulful appealed to her impetuous, hoplessly romantic side- rarely revealed, never shared with anyone else.]

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