I reach out to her,
but why?
to find the one thing yet which was never there before.
i am grieving
this is a death.
imperfect though it was
it was love.
our souls so fit together
but not our lips.
the joy i could not feel
became the disease
that killed us.
i want to change it all
but I cannot.
she is the sweetest center
what other love could be as good?
every woman i know
leaves me so uninspired.
every woman i find attractive
vibrates with energies
that reject my being.
her touch drains my soul.
my words kill her heart.
this really sucks
she deserves better than what i gave
and what do i deserve?
Sunday, September 2, 2007
Friday, August 31, 2007
sad
it pulls me back
again
and burns
just when you thought
the sentence lifted.
she can not help me.
every word from her,
kind or not,
is sadness for me.
everything would be ok
except for time.
i am a million miles off
again
and burns
just when you thought
the sentence lifted.
she can not help me.
every word from her,
kind or not,
is sadness for me.
everything would be ok
except for time.
i am a million miles off
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
dawn breaks, baby, for no reason
depression is a right big drag
but almost worse
than all the slag
of molten iron
rage emotion
and all the wild eyed
crazy motions
ranting like a lunatic
and having thoughts that make you sick
and feeling all this gross despair
is when
you start to actually feel better
and the demons in your mind expel
and earth seems once again like paradise
and everyone is so damn nice
and you look back on the way you felt
and feel a damn, damn fool.
depression is invisible - flames of purgatory
that purify the soul.
the inner self
under construction
workmen with ass cracks and all.
its never pretty, till its done.
but almost worse
than all the slag
of molten iron
rage emotion
and all the wild eyed
crazy motions
ranting like a lunatic
and having thoughts that make you sick
and feeling all this gross despair
is when
you start to actually feel better
and the demons in your mind expel
and earth seems once again like paradise
and everyone is so damn nice
and you look back on the way you felt
and feel a damn, damn fool.
depression is invisible - flames of purgatory
that purify the soul.
the inner self
under construction
workmen with ass cracks and all.
its never pretty, till its done.
Compliment Beauty
I do like to
and it seems really right
to express out loud
in terms sincere
Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful,
and everywhere around I see
such beauty beaming back at me
people seem to find it strange
to say these things to everyone
so i hold it in most times
and write it in these
banal rhymes
but you
your face, your eyes your style
are beautiful as all that's wild
you fill me with a sense of awe
the way that nature has you drawn
the vibrations which you emanate
of such subtle, kind and delicate
goddess like effeminate.
i do not wish to win your love
for love is hard i know
but only that you hear the truth
in case some doubt has entered you
that beauty is truth and beauty is you
and you are most very beautiful.
and it seems really right
to express out loud
in terms sincere
Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful,
and everywhere around I see
such beauty beaming back at me
people seem to find it strange
to say these things to everyone
so i hold it in most times
and write it in these
banal rhymes
but you
your face, your eyes your style
are beautiful as all that's wild
you fill me with a sense of awe
the way that nature has you drawn
the vibrations which you emanate
of such subtle, kind and delicate
goddess like effeminate.
i do not wish to win your love
for love is hard i know
but only that you hear the truth
in case some doubt has entered you
that beauty is truth and beauty is you
and you are most very beautiful.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Cycle
nature knows no sin,
nature knows no blame,
that which comes from infinite forever
returns there.
the bird (and all of us) never asked to die,
neither did it ask to be born.
to die seems hard for us,
but what of the infinite time we did not exist before our birth?
was that bad?
in the setting face to face we can choose to merge with the infinite and leave the cycle of birth.
trapped to the world of experience.
but the world of existence is why.
we are here for experience.
this is where there is pain and loss and fear and death.
but
this is where there is birth and babies and life and love and accomplishment and music and art and dance
the stars at night
the breeze
an infinite space
where we are on a tiny ball
all for us
nature is what it is
because we understand compassion and love
it seems cruel
but except for us
nature does not know this
the deer doesn't blame the wolf
no one blames the worm
round and round it goes
we do not interfere, we are nature too
the baby drinks milk
it is god pouring into god.
there is no difference between perfection and nothing
let there be something
nature knows no blame,
that which comes from infinite forever
returns there.
the bird (and all of us) never asked to die,
neither did it ask to be born.
to die seems hard for us,
but what of the infinite time we did not exist before our birth?
was that bad?
in the setting face to face we can choose to merge with the infinite and leave the cycle of birth.
trapped to the world of experience.
but the world of existence is why.
we are here for experience.
this is where there is pain and loss and fear and death.
but
this is where there is birth and babies and life and love and accomplishment and music and art and dance
the stars at night
the breeze
an infinite space
where we are on a tiny ball
all for us
nature is what it is
because we understand compassion and love
it seems cruel
but except for us
nature does not know this
the deer doesn't blame the wolf
no one blames the worm
round and round it goes
we do not interfere, we are nature too
the baby drinks milk
it is god pouring into god.
there is no difference between perfection and nothing
let there be something
Is there?
Is there another beautiful woman
who will go
Dumpster diving with me
to find the exquisite bits?
searching on the ground
for what can be found
and opening each lid to see
what rotting treasures await for me
all on a beautiful summer day
and each dumpster really smells
and one smell made me vomit.
yet she loved me
and later that day
we kissed most tenderly.
(oh those strange artists)
Is there another beautiful woman,
with a sexy sense of fashion
who will except me as the t-shirted and blue-jeaned thing that I am,
who will have sex in the bushes of a rest stop
and keep going even after the cop drives by
on the road we didn't know was there?
Is there another beautiful woman
who will jolly joke with me
and be surreal in wit and mind
and know that jokes are harmless things
and find it just a funny thing
to furl our open-minded flag
and say
I eat babies?
who will go
Dumpster diving with me
to find the exquisite bits?
searching on the ground
for what can be found
and opening each lid to see
what rotting treasures await for me
all on a beautiful summer day
and each dumpster really smells
and one smell made me vomit.
yet she loved me
and later that day
we kissed most tenderly.
(oh those strange artists)
Is there another beautiful woman,
with a sexy sense of fashion
who will except me as the t-shirted and blue-jeaned thing that I am,
who will have sex in the bushes of a rest stop
and keep going even after the cop drives by
on the road we didn't know was there?
Is there another beautiful woman
who will jolly joke with me
and be surreal in wit and mind
and know that jokes are harmless things
and find it just a funny thing
to furl our open-minded flag
and say
I eat babies?
Work, Home, Sleep.
Work.
The day is long,
and longer still with joyless hours left to fill.
Home.
empty house of other chores,
further toiling lonely hours.
Sleep.
filled with dreaming restless dreams,
breathing body feels the dark,
acridly succumbing to losing of the self
and slipping away into the temporary grave of slumber.
The day is long,
and longer still with joyless hours left to fill.
Home.
empty house of other chores,
further toiling lonely hours.
Sleep.
filled with dreaming restless dreams,
breathing body feels the dark,
acridly succumbing to losing of the self
and slipping away into the temporary grave of slumber.
Sunday, June 10, 2007
Not Trying
Somewhere out there
is a really wonderful lady.
The kind of gal I could really dig.
The kind of woman I can talk to.
The kind of woman who enjoys the things I do.
The kind of woman who can thrill me head to toe
if I put my arms around her and kiss her mouth,
the sort of girl who wont bring me down by being
all into something i don't like,
the kind of person whose personality is like music
to my inner ear,
someone beautiful.
She is probably married.
She is dating someone cool.
She would have liked me better when I had long hair
and wont recognize me in this suit.
She lives out of state.
She saw me somewhere, but when faced with crowds
I get nervous and shy and just walked on by.
how do i fool myself, this time, into being
and not trying.
is a really wonderful lady.
The kind of gal I could really dig.
The kind of woman I can talk to.
The kind of woman who enjoys the things I do.
The kind of woman who can thrill me head to toe
if I put my arms around her and kiss her mouth,
the sort of girl who wont bring me down by being
all into something i don't like,
the kind of person whose personality is like music
to my inner ear,
someone beautiful.
She is probably married.
She is dating someone cool.
She would have liked me better when I had long hair
and wont recognize me in this suit.
She lives out of state.
She saw me somewhere, but when faced with crowds
I get nervous and shy and just walked on by.
how do i fool myself, this time, into being
and not trying.
Lonely and Horny and Shy.
"water, water everywhere, but not a drop to drink"
Perhaps something good will happen.
Venturing, as I rarely do, out and about
and on the town, I am stunned
with the vision
everywhere
of Beautiful, Beautiful women.
Art shows and restaurants
and just walking down the street,
Beautiful, beautiful women.
A path that stretches in all directions
away and out of site.
Sitting at home on a Saturday night,
as is more frequently the case,
chores need doing,
trying to cook for one,
the darkness of the night
closes in around me,
restlessly wondering,
where, out there, in this town of mine,
can a person go?
Every friend I have
is in some ways already occupied.
They are married. They are moving. They are doing something constructive.
Perhaps I should paint;
Isolated, lonely communion with color.
I am lonely and horny and shy.
Perhaps something good will happen.
Venturing, as I rarely do, out and about
and on the town, I am stunned
with the vision
everywhere
of Beautiful, Beautiful women.
Art shows and restaurants
and just walking down the street,
Beautiful, beautiful women.
A path that stretches in all directions
away and out of site.
Sitting at home on a Saturday night,
as is more frequently the case,
chores need doing,
trying to cook for one,
the darkness of the night
closes in around me,
restlessly wondering,
where, out there, in this town of mine,
can a person go?
Every friend I have
is in some ways already occupied.
They are married. They are moving. They are doing something constructive.
Perhaps I should paint;
Isolated, lonely communion with color.
I am lonely and horny and shy.
Wednesday, June 6, 2007
brotherly love
The love of fellows;
friends and family
and colleagues too,
one would be lost with out all of you.
but even when such love abounds:
if tender lips can not be found,
a face as lovely as all that's fair,
accents lovely to the ear,
flesh which tastes most pleasing and sweet,
passion that responds like a well practiced dance,
skin and hair so soft to touch,
an appetite for loving much,
a tender chiding of concern,
a heart that innocent does love
without some ghosts to weigh it down,
tender lips which fit with mine,
and humor that can know my mind,
without this sort of physical love
and all the pleasures it can prove
all seems quaint and slightly numb
and leaves me raging and restless and dumb.
Good friends I love you one and all.
but who can answer such a call?
and even on my own home grounds
i feel lost without this love around.
friends and family
and colleagues too,
one would be lost with out all of you.
but even when such love abounds:
if tender lips can not be found,
a face as lovely as all that's fair,
accents lovely to the ear,
flesh which tastes most pleasing and sweet,
passion that responds like a well practiced dance,
skin and hair so soft to touch,
an appetite for loving much,
a tender chiding of concern,
a heart that innocent does love
without some ghosts to weigh it down,
tender lips which fit with mine,
and humor that can know my mind,
without this sort of physical love
and all the pleasures it can prove
all seems quaint and slightly numb
and leaves me raging and restless and dumb.
Good friends I love you one and all.
but who can answer such a call?
and even on my own home grounds
i feel lost without this love around.
Tempting Fate.
O' time and fortune and hope sublime
please hear my words and answer kindly.
I beseech your favor a second time,
or more perhaps, for it could be
that often you have smiled on me
and I have never felt this grace,
though were these favors never shown
I would have known the sting
of grave calamities and maybe even death.
So once already did Love's sweet face
shine its sun lit lovely grace
into my life with sweetest charm,
only to have my devotion stray
and lose it then forever.
So double now is what i ask,
and I fear that nature,
with all its might,
is not equal to this task.
Before time's tireless, reckless, hands
please hear my words and answer kindly.
I beseech your favor a second time,
or more perhaps, for it could be
that often you have smiled on me
and I have never felt this grace,
though were these favors never shown
I would have known the sting
of grave calamities and maybe even death.
So once already did Love's sweet face
shine its sun lit lovely grace
into my life with sweetest charm,
only to have my devotion stray
and lose it then forever.
So double now is what i ask,
and I fear that nature,
with all its might,
is not equal to this task.
Before time's tireless, reckless, hands
Reek their arts of aging man,
unto its utmost final craft.
Before the canvas, Time, is filled,
Its final strokes, to make us dust,
and blacken every love and lust,
yes, even before the day begins
in which age can see its coming end
and must concede its time is near
and memories only of all that's dear.
yes while there is still life to live
to me, another angel, give.
Someone who, by natures gifts,
suits me well and makes me feel
that love is good and love is real.
O' universe, you know my heart,
and know what every detail is
of what i need to happy live.
Please help me then, to find her soon,
for time is swiftly using up.
er' else what gifts i have to use
your reputation i will abuse
and spell in poem, art and song
how all the universe is wrong
and ever artful the truth to tell
that all is all and all is hell.
Thursday, May 31, 2007
The Shadow Planet.
in the shadow world.
same time, same place as where we are,
but removed by magic
so as to be unseen by most
save that it effects this world
with plots and schemes
of foul devising
and fades its agents away like mists
to leave man pondering
the evil in his midst.
the globe of this strange other world
is all about it formed grotesque
were fearsome shapes and crags
in shadow's dizzied churled
menace and foretell of dooms
and so arranged with artful chaos
as to defy even that sense of beauty
which in a hostile rugged landscape can be found
no real life adapted to these horrors
pointed sharp and stinking poison.
no sun of light shines in its sky
but a shadow ball more black than night
which shoots its blackness out like waves
and covers everything that's here
in oil black oppressive fear
a thousand variants of dark
a lightless universe of stark and evil gloom.
the shadow planet is with our world
the empty space about us filled
the darkness driven out but never killed
it's empty, evil, cold and black
and waits to take us ever back
into the abyss from which we came
the never place with nothing name.
and there upon that poisoned sphere
exists the nameless creature witch
in formless malevolence and hate
and secret scheming
endless waits
and sees with eye like blind though seeing
this world's every living being
and from the hidden places
seeps its formless hands like liquid creeps
into atom's shadows place
the memory of its faceless face
and adds to natures boundless gifts
the errors and the tiny rifts
the opposite of that which lives.
same time, same place as where we are,
but removed by magic
so as to be unseen by most
save that it effects this world
with plots and schemes
of foul devising
and fades its agents away like mists
to leave man pondering
the evil in his midst.
the globe of this strange other world
is all about it formed grotesque
were fearsome shapes and crags
in shadow's dizzied churled
menace and foretell of dooms
and so arranged with artful chaos
as to defy even that sense of beauty
which in a hostile rugged landscape can be found
no real life adapted to these horrors
pointed sharp and stinking poison.
no sun of light shines in its sky
but a shadow ball more black than night
which shoots its blackness out like waves
and covers everything that's here
in oil black oppressive fear
a thousand variants of dark
a lightless universe of stark and evil gloom.
the shadow planet is with our world
the empty space about us filled
the darkness driven out but never killed
it's empty, evil, cold and black
and waits to take us ever back
into the abyss from which we came
the never place with nothing name.
and there upon that poisoned sphere
exists the nameless creature witch
in formless malevolence and hate
and secret scheming
endless waits
and sees with eye like blind though seeing
this world's every living being
and from the hidden places
seeps its formless hands like liquid creeps
into atom's shadows place
the memory of its faceless face
and adds to natures boundless gifts
the errors and the tiny rifts
the opposite of that which lives.
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
other woman - run on
why is it?
what is it?
this fear feeling
of lonely soul self -
conscious caught
in time warp thoughts
that resonate with empathy
of my own cruel callous-
dastardly - to set her free
in spite of all the sympathy
i feel for her
relentlessly
that stabs me in the heart
to read
the words of her despondency
on diary notes she left around
caught there in her love for me
and now shes gone
from here and i am left
with many memories
of kindness that she did for me
her beauty sweet and giving heart
a comfort
but even from the start
her nature of such wondrous form
could not undo the tragic harm
my heart was gone
from in my chest
another one i loved the best
and forsook her for some blind fool thought
and wicked was this lesson taught
the folly of my stupid heart
that left me with this sweet sweet girl
who should have really rocked my world
but love is more than can be seen
and no one understands this thing
every person i did meet
would say shes beautiful and sweet
i tried to love her
five long years
but when we cuddled
in night to sleep
my arms embraced
a fear that creeped
my mind communioned
with the void
and falling, falling falling
toyed with thoughts of dark despair
and held old dreams
now made from air.
lonely i feel now and hopeless too
i think of all my time with you
oblivions waters
it sinks beneath
I'm not just a fool
i am a thief.
what is it?
this fear feeling
of lonely soul self -
conscious caught
in time warp thoughts
that resonate with empathy
of my own cruel callous-
dastardly - to set her free
in spite of all the sympathy
i feel for her
relentlessly
that stabs me in the heart
to read
the words of her despondency
on diary notes she left around
caught there in her love for me
and now shes gone
from here and i am left
with many memories
of kindness that she did for me
her beauty sweet and giving heart
a comfort
but even from the start
her nature of such wondrous form
could not undo the tragic harm
my heart was gone
from in my chest
another one i loved the best
and forsook her for some blind fool thought
and wicked was this lesson taught
the folly of my stupid heart
that left me with this sweet sweet girl
who should have really rocked my world
but love is more than can be seen
and no one understands this thing
every person i did meet
would say shes beautiful and sweet
i tried to love her
five long years
but when we cuddled
in night to sleep
my arms embraced
a fear that creeped
my mind communioned
with the void
and falling, falling falling
toyed with thoughts of dark despair
and held old dreams
now made from air.
lonely i feel now and hopeless too
i think of all my time with you
oblivions waters
it sinks beneath
I'm not just a fool
i am a thief.
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Beggar's can
memories conspire
and so delight
and block all avenues
of future desires
and fantasy
becomes difficult
because inspired
the joys remembered
bring with them pain
that distracts to woe
the pleasure seeking brain.
and so
i see now
formed from hope
the most hopeless
wish that comes to call
and dresses itself
in worn cliche.
an ideal form
from which to judge
all beauty, so misused.
the shape of flesh
in forms divine
i see her clearly in my mind
where once stood shadows vague and dark
she crystallizes in complete detail
the woman of my dreams
my dreams
never again will a pretty face
change my course or slow my pace
i see the X marked
i can not fail.
at Venus' temple i will wait
for time to align the threads of fate
and open once again the veil
that i might see my Goddess
and
though now broken, old and gray
i have waited every day
with faith as true
as mortal fear
for my true love
who will appear
and heal
with one divine sweet kiss
every pleasure
i have missed.
and so delight
and block all avenues
of future desires
and fantasy
becomes difficult
because inspired
the joys remembered
bring with them pain
that distracts to woe
the pleasure seeking brain.
and so
i see now
formed from hope
the most hopeless
wish that comes to call
and dresses itself
in worn cliche.
an ideal form
from which to judge
all beauty, so misused.
the shape of flesh
in forms divine
i see her clearly in my mind
where once stood shadows vague and dark
she crystallizes in complete detail
the woman of my dreams
my dreams
never again will a pretty face
change my course or slow my pace
i see the X marked
i can not fail.
at Venus' temple i will wait
for time to align the threads of fate
and open once again the veil
that i might see my Goddess
and
though now broken, old and gray
i have waited every day
with faith as true
as mortal fear
for my true love
who will appear
and heal
with one divine sweet kiss
every pleasure
i have missed.
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Never Giddy
Never Giddy
no, not again
though i truly can remember when
she said
as we were making love
"I love you"
in a voice such soft
that drove my heart and soul aloft
to heights that doubted
i heard the truth
and answered back
"I love you too."
and kissed again
though it was new
and from that day
i giddy jumped
and felt my heart
within me pumped
and like some silly childish fool
announced out loud
from dawn to night
more profound it seemed
than light
that issues forth
from angels 'bove
my voice rang out
"I'm in Love!"
my heart in such great gladness
tripped
and then my heart was from me ripped
torn as thoughtless as a joke
by words that should have made me choke
they broke the spell of this great love
and made me ruin
this great love
her love for me
was fractured then
and it would never heal again
and how i must have scarred her soul
betrayed the love that made her whole
and killed two birds
with just three words
and left us each then
half a soul
weak and wounded
drifting in the world alone
and this was many years ago
she was younger
perhaps she healed
I'll never know the way she feels
i only know that i weep still
and wonder if another love
is written in the books above
and could it make me skip and jump
like some foolish giddy chump
a love that heals the wound i wrought
and reconciles these damned thoughts
not just someone who wants me
but abolishes this foul infamy
which rankles me within my breast
it cries 'you lost the love that's best'
some love to reprieve this hard damnation
and is more then merely consolation.
no, not again
though i truly can remember when
she said
as we were making love
"I love you"
in a voice such soft
that drove my heart and soul aloft
to heights that doubted
i heard the truth
and answered back
"I love you too."
and kissed again
though it was new
and from that day
i giddy jumped
and felt my heart
within me pumped
and like some silly childish fool
announced out loud
from dawn to night
more profound it seemed
than light
that issues forth
from angels 'bove
my voice rang out
"I'm in Love!"
my heart in such great gladness
tripped
and then my heart was from me ripped
torn as thoughtless as a joke
by words that should have made me choke
they broke the spell of this great love
and made me ruin
this great love
her love for me
was fractured then
and it would never heal again
and how i must have scarred her soul
betrayed the love that made her whole
and killed two birds
with just three words
and left us each then
half a soul
weak and wounded
drifting in the world alone
and this was many years ago
she was younger
perhaps she healed
I'll never know the way she feels
i only know that i weep still
and wonder if another love
is written in the books above
and could it make me skip and jump
like some foolish giddy chump
a love that heals the wound i wrought
and reconciles these damned thoughts
not just someone who wants me
but abolishes this foul infamy
which rankles me within my breast
it cries 'you lost the love that's best'
some love to reprieve this hard damnation
and is more then merely consolation.
Friday, May 18, 2007
Match.com
Neither beauty nor grace
or kindness and sweet,
not charm or effort or intention or desire,
no act of will or effect of virtue;
nothing can spell the name of Love.
only time and action,
events unfold
in shapes to complex to be foretold,
in chaos's theory,
with chance and luck,
where weeping in this dungeon
stuck between the iron shafts of light
and the spaces of the night
the stars
which spread across the sky
bespeaking violent infinity.
such lonely beauty
such vast expanse-
a poem typed upon a page
seeks to express this cosmic rage,
and knows that passion and poetry
do not compute
into such terms so small and mute
as tastes and thoughts
in forms filled in
-to rub the lamp
and reveal the djinn-
the savage voice cries to the dark
and lonely void
of this dream we call reality.
you can not weave majic
from threads of
compatibility.
fortune, only, can cast this spell
and save us from this lonesome hell
which greedy in our breast draws breath
till we be silenced by our death.
or kindness and sweet,
not charm or effort or intention or desire,
no act of will or effect of virtue;
nothing can spell the name of Love.
only time and action,
events unfold
in shapes to complex to be foretold,
in chaos's theory,
with chance and luck,
where weeping in this dungeon
stuck between the iron shafts of light
and the spaces of the night
the stars
which spread across the sky
bespeaking violent infinity.
such lonely beauty
such vast expanse-
a poem typed upon a page
seeks to express this cosmic rage,
and knows that passion and poetry
do not compute
into such terms so small and mute
as tastes and thoughts
in forms filled in
-to rub the lamp
and reveal the djinn-
the savage voice cries to the dark
and lonely void
of this dream we call reality.
you can not weave majic
from threads of
compatibility.
fortune, only, can cast this spell
and save us from this lonesome hell
which greedy in our breast draws breath
till we be silenced by our death.
Saturday, May 12, 2007
Land lubber
sail the long day
stream of time
on the waters of my mind
brave the storm front
black cloud thoughts
the port
the journey comes to nought
the sea flows to the edge of earth
then plunges down
toward darker birth
here be dragons
warns the map
yet rudderless the sails do flap
sails of flesh and hull of bones
the captain steers
by will alone
time's current brung him to this sea
the sands of damned mortality
some say that on the golden sands
shining angels singing stand
and moor the ships
with ropes of light
to islands of intense delight
that burn like fires - distant bright
amid the twinkling skies of night
but LO i'v also heard the tale
on night winds blown
un-earthly wail
with sea foam voice
tormented tones
we sail our days
alone alone
until the ship with creaking groan
Breaks and sinks below the waves
forever lost in silent graves.
stream of time
on the waters of my mind
brave the storm front
black cloud thoughts
the port
the journey comes to nought
the sea flows to the edge of earth
then plunges down
toward darker birth
here be dragons
warns the map
yet rudderless the sails do flap
sails of flesh and hull of bones
the captain steers
by will alone
time's current brung him to this sea
the sands of damned mortality
some say that on the golden sands
shining angels singing stand
and moor the ships
with ropes of light
to islands of intense delight
that burn like fires - distant bright
amid the twinkling skies of night
but LO i'v also heard the tale
on night winds blown
un-earthly wail
with sea foam voice
tormented tones
we sail our days
alone alone
until the ship with creaking groan
Breaks and sinks below the waves
forever lost in silent graves.
Friday, May 11, 2007
sung like blues.
- Old King Cole was a merry old soul
a merry old soul was he;
He called for his pipe, he called for his bowl
he called for his fiddlers three.
the fiddlers say
and cole sat back and scratched his head
"i dont know the name of the song i feel
down deep in my soul
i'm 'sposed to be merry
so they say
but all i feel is old"
alone i face eternity
with no woman's love
and so salvations
no good to me
with no woman's love.
earth itself is paradise
no eden can compare
except when love is lost forever
then its all nowehere.
and when i stand at the pearly gates
i might see her there
with the man she loves
who isnt me
and heaven is nowhere
maybe i'll be lucky still
the luckiest of men
and why i die
no heaven find
only oblivion.
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
Loving Music, Loving Musicians
Well, would you look at this. a strange new place where i am writing something to place out there in the world. and why? for one reason only. I had to create this account so that i could leave a comment under someone elses blog. not just any someone either, but the ever wonderful musician Adrian Belew of king crimson, the bears, talking heads, frank zappa, twang bar, etc.(this list could go on) fame.
one of the many fine musians in the world who has sculled around in the back grounds of super stardom. know by many and many and his work is heard by many more who are unaware of his name but hear him playing on albums by other people.
he is famous, but not famous like eric clapton or peter gabriel, madonna or the beatles. I myself was once a person who had been digging Adrian Belew's work on several albums without realizing who he was. it started when I about fifteen and my father had a cassette tape of frank zappa's sheik yerbouti. "city of tiny lights.." ya! i really dug the record and played it lots. then in my 11th grade english class i got turned on to lauri anderson, the last poets and allen ginsberg. almost instantly i went out and bought "big science", the first thing i had heard. not long after also got "mr heartbreak". i dug on these awhile and then right before i graduated from high school i discovered king crimson's "disipline".that was 1985.
it started slowely. i first heard "matte kudasai" on a small radio coming from the college radio station. i heard the whole album a little later when a friend had it on tape. eventually i bought it myself. i already knew of king crimson from the 70's but was blissfully unaware of the 80's incarnation until then. it was love a first listenings.
crimson put me on the road to recognizing Adrian Belew and my penchant for reading albums and looking at the musicans listed eventually led me to notice how many records i already had where in he played.
anyway, since he is so kind as to use these blog mediums to communicate with all of us, i am going to take advantage and post a comment under something i read.
as he himself discribes in his blog, one doesnt want to be the crazy annoying fan. but, .......
one of the many fine musians in the world who has sculled around in the back grounds of super stardom. know by many and many and his work is heard by many more who are unaware of his name but hear him playing on albums by other people.
he is famous, but not famous like eric clapton or peter gabriel, madonna or the beatles. I myself was once a person who had been digging Adrian Belew's work on several albums without realizing who he was. it started when I about fifteen and my father had a cassette tape of frank zappa's sheik yerbouti. "city of tiny lights.." ya! i really dug the record and played it lots. then in my 11th grade english class i got turned on to lauri anderson, the last poets and allen ginsberg. almost instantly i went out and bought "big science", the first thing i had heard. not long after also got "mr heartbreak". i dug on these awhile and then right before i graduated from high school i discovered king crimson's "disipline".that was 1985.
it started slowely. i first heard "matte kudasai" on a small radio coming from the college radio station. i heard the whole album a little later when a friend had it on tape. eventually i bought it myself. i already knew of king crimson from the 70's but was blissfully unaware of the 80's incarnation until then. it was love a first listenings.
crimson put me on the road to recognizing Adrian Belew and my penchant for reading albums and looking at the musicans listed eventually led me to notice how many records i already had where in he played.
anyway, since he is so kind as to use these blog mediums to communicate with all of us, i am going to take advantage and post a comment under something i read.
as he himself discribes in his blog, one doesnt want to be the crazy annoying fan. but, .......
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