Sign up to save your podcasts
Or
Share The Crime Of The Century Podcast
Share to email
Share to Facebook
Share to X
Share to email
Share to Facebook
Share to X
Or
The Crime Of The Century Podcast
By Matt LoveTechnology
The Crime Of The Century Podcast episodes
- 8 min
- Blue Rain by Lori Yamamotogrey sky spills slowa curtain of soft penniesi stand beneathyet not one drop finds my skinworld drips awaylike watercolor left outi watch politefeeling folds into pocketswet clothes hug tightpretending they know sorrowunderneath, dryskin forgets how to shiverquiet oceanlaps the doorstep of my ribsone small cornerholds its breath and bars the gatecity blurs clearinto a polite watercolori own no mapno clock, no umbrella nowyour love was sparka struck match against cold windleft only ashcradled in my cupped palmssky keeps cryinga steady hush on the roofmy tears retiredbefore they could leave homei fade paper-thina thumb-smudge on the eveningecho of someonewho once danced without askingwind tries a namesoft as moth wings at the glassi stay silentalready folded awaymoon walks past mepretending not to noticeriverbed yawnsempty, lips cracked with dustache pours slowlya bitter wine in the darklaughter’s old seatgathers quiet like mossnight leans closerasks if i’m finished yeti whisper maybeand let the hush finish me7 min
- Sunlight by Lori Yamamotobefore clocks ticked loudthe sky kept a hush of bluea small girl stoodsunlight poured like warm syrupsomething settledsoft as dust on a doll cheekquiet knew her nameand she answered without wordshouseplants breathed slowwhile grown-up shoes slept in rowsnight-light blinked shya pink primrose on the sillpeace tiptoed incurling around her anklesheartbeat steadylike a lullaby hummed lowsmall fingers tracedthe cool glass of the windowstars looked back kindshe believed they were listeninga hand found herspaper-thin and peppermintkiss on the crowntasted of moon and mothershe stored the calmin the pocket of her dressit wrinkled sweetlater years unfolded loudshe lost the mapback to that three-year-old roombut sometimes latethe hush sneaks under the doorshe writes the tunebackward, note by quiet notetrying to catchthe scent of primrose at dusklonging is gentlea shy cat asking to staypeace still whispers“i’m here, just listen softer”7 min
- Small Music by Lori Yamamotohi gentle ghostsa voice drifted from café steamit spoke hush truthstoo shy for bright lightsthread of night wovea concert no one else hearsdream bandstand playsonly my heart keeps the beatwe trade shy notesby breathing in the same airone hundred heartbeatsper turn, a tiny rosarymelody firstthen harmony curls like smokerhythm settlesdeep as knees in cool grassD climbs, E liftsF sharp blushes, G holds my handsmall step, small fallinside one borrowed secondkneeling insidethe hush between two pulsesbossa clave tapschurch shoes sneak onto street tilesoff-beat giggledrum-soul tugs my sleeve loosedizzy kindnessshakes the dust from my ribsquiet paradeonly we know the routemeasure one hushwe pinch silence like cookie doughsustain, then snipa heart-shaped note floats awaytap the wood skinpiano becomes a windowwind wanders throughold temple stones, perfectly tilteda faraway chaircoughs “not a masterpiece, dear”i smile politemasterpieces are too loudthis is a sparkslipping through the smallest gatethank you for coinsthat let two shy hearts orbitvive la softthe gentlest kind of riot6 min
- So Strange By Lori Yamamototoo many milesstretch between our two kitchensi dial slow ninelet the rotary sigh spinyour voice arrivescrackled like warm vinyli mail a smilepressed in a small square photosun on my cheekpale and a little crookedwait till we meeti’ll kiss the top of your headsoft as a stampstill tasting envelope gluedo we dare walkto the hush at the line’s end?i’ll pack cold riceinto a plaid metal tinthen we’ll just sitbreathing the same quiet roomour strange recordspins wobbly lullabiesall i need isthe tiny bulb on your phoneglow steady greenlike a night-light for my heartmiles of black cordcannot tangle the small yeswe keep whisperedinto plastic receivers5 min
- In The Garden Of My Heart by Lori Yamamotoheart-garden sighspetals lean like tired dancersspilling the silldrama in soft pink whispersa pixel birdloops its tiny song all nightblue router lightpaints the leaves in insomniadrought inside mewatered only by glitch tearswhen netflix blinksand asks if i’m still watchingpower cord sagegnarled root above my gravebury me hereunder the gentle hum of losscracked phone screen skyclouds made of thumbprint smudgescarve something smallno marble, no fuss, just this:“she scrolled sweet,she liked hearts like fireflies,then pressed goodnightlet the battery dream deep”4 min
- Old Mister Moon Is Ever So Shy by Lori Yamamotoscreen softly glowsyour picture cups evening goldsame quiet hueas the hush i keep foldedmy phone, small pondreflects your face like shy moonI ask how you'reholding the hours inside youtruth leaks out slowyou confessed, “i take you for granted”your words fall like a cracked sparrowwe both watch it try to flymelody gifti hear you humming through wiresguilt tiptoes inlike socks on a creaking flooryou whisper sorryinto the space after beepi answer warm“no need to keep score of flawswe’ll stack days gentlylike sugar cubes in small tea”between our wordsa window cracks open widei tell you newyou’re still an unread lettersealed with starlightall i want is the paperi say “come closerwe’ll trade secrets like stickers”pixels rise, falltiny fireflies of your laughi catch them softin the jar of my ribcageyes, let’s exploredoor after door after doori’ll try, pinky swearto stay the person you seejust us two spoonsstirring the same quiet soupevening lingersholding the taste of maybe6 min
- Engine Heartbeats by Lori Yamamotodesoto purrssoft as a shy cat stretchingrisotto warmsteams tiny windows of nightradio glowwraps the dash in honey lightengine heartbeatsa lullaby learned by roteroad unbuttonswide as a yawn after napssecrets scatterlike dandelion wishesi breathe them inthey taste of maybe and soonhorizon foldsthe distance into pocketsfridge note fluttersback home without my fingersink still damp says“choose the version that’s kind”i blink at truthit wiggles like a loose toothunder big skylies feel almost like cloudsmemory tumormyoma ghost in my chestratios janglenumbers that never hugged righti let them dropout the window like receiptslonely song humsfresh and off-key and minegas station tarshines like licorice puddlescoffee smells oldyet kind in a chipped mug waytiny toy truckred as a cherry promisei pocket joyit clicks against my keysstretching limbs outknots untie into ribbonssteady light staysnever scolds, only waitsi nod helloto the quiet that followsroyal pain gonecrowns melt in the glovebox dustkingdom insidegrows moss on forgotten thronesmind is a trailwinding soft through pine hushriata roadloops like a cat in my laplong way from homeyet home hums under the hoodoroya whispersa name i once tried onyam dreams crumblesweet and fleeting as cookiesi keep drivingeach mile a gentle inhalethe night cradleswhatever i am becoming6 min
- Midwest Dusk by Lori Yamamotoneon hums loudsilver lake’s pretend stars blinkcamera clickspainted smile cracks at the seammama whispersfrom tokyo through tiny wires“kyoto waits”i cradle the word like teathey call me madto drop a glittering namecity cagesvelvet ropes tighten like vinesi pack hush upa notebook, one cotton dreammidwest sky yawnswide enough to swallow doubtdusty roads callwith a shy curl of their fingeri answer softbare feet in second-hand shoesdiner bell ringsa counter older than rain smilescoffee steams kindwashing yesterday’s mask awayhere i relearnhow to sit without a posepages flutterlike white moths seeking porch lightsteam from my cupwrites short stories on the glassseasons stroll pastwearing cardigans of calmstrangers’ kind eyeshold me gentler than mirrorstheir “how are you”feels like quilts just out the dryeri answer sloweach word a seed in new soilthe girl i lostpeeks out from behind my sighevening leans closebig sky presses pink to cheeki let her staythere is room here for every selfold names drift offballoons slipping small fingersmidwest dusk foldsme into its quiet lap5 min
- Friends of Floss Picks Theme Song[Verse 1]We're the floss pick generation,And we're coming to your town,We're finding floss picks everywhere,We even find them on the ground.[Verse 2]By a fence post, in the weeds,Sown by careless, flossing deeds,A tiny hook, a string so bright,A public health and litter sight.(Chorus)From the sidewalk to the street,In the gutter, at our feet,We're the Friends of Floss Picks, on the hunt,For a plastic oral stunt.[verse 3]Some see litter, a dirty shame,But we see patterns, a plastic game,Each one a story, left behind,A dental trail for us to find.[verse 4]So if you see us looking down,Searching all over town,Don't be surprised or think it's odd,We're just the floss pick mod squad(Chorus)From the sidewalk to the street,In the gutter, at our feet,We're the Friends of Floss Picks, on the hunt,For a plastic oral stunt.(Chorus)From the sidewalk to the street,In the gutter, at our feet,We're the Friends of Floss Picks, on the hunt,For a plastic oral stunt.4 min
About The Crime Of The Century Podcast
From the publisher's feed
Better than a chicken jumping rope backwards!