Cover version of The Church's song, "Myrrh" off the album, Heyday

On The Road (For the Band, Of Course)

Everything seems a little dewier
since you strolled into town
Everything just got a litle more
for the taking
And I will give all Ive got
And then some

Transfigure Into The Most Glorious of Vessels

Ghostly footprints on creaking woodboards
intermittent and leading
They'll take you to your past
and hold you to your present
great seer Wovoca
Invoke

Out in a golden meadow
sunlit orange glow
Summer harsh breeze
Hawk lost in the
burning sun
retinas produce spots
as you follow it's flight
across the heavans

Lakeside verdant pool
vines drip in the cool waters
lazy alongside the lapping tide
down below fish dream of the moon
feeling the pressure of the depths
their scales transmit signals
dart off into the murky depths

Rebirth
what will it be?
aquatic surfer
winged icarus
or ghost

See Life

molten ships glow in the evening sky
bio luminescent phantoms
under the seas stormy waves
They project smiles of sunburst
in the lead black background
of a summer night sky

careening back and forth
across the great divide of night
elegant and monstrous
all the same

in amazement I call out
to the friends I am with
look skyward
they could not see what I saw
was it a mirage
was I crazy

still they hovered
they darted
releasing their hellfire
streaking across the heavens
exploding like some revolutionary celebration upon us

Drown In the Winter Blues

I've got the blues
that creep up your spine
like when you didn't get picked
to play in school
I feel alone
like I haven't felt in a while
I guess it has to do with love
and failing at it repeatedly
doesn't help
is it me
is it them
is it us
yes all of the above
Ah but I have to count my blessings
I have a family I love
as dysfunctional as we might all be
myself included
yes the family is a snapshot of the human condition
like that time you had a grade school crush on Brenda or Tammy or....
and she met you in the school yard
only to kick you square in the nuts
life is like that
just when you think youve made it
zammm
The Gods begin the cacophony
I am grateful for the career path that I seemingly fell into
but know deeper it was part my part other
I am fortunate for this
fortunate for the house I live in and love
I think what valleys I have navigated
dark and laden with swamps and moss
entangled in the vines
crocodiles lurking in the dark
eyes peek over the surface
then submerse
I wading through the muck
always waiting for the undertow
to drag me under
me with my trusty walking stick
Only then to summit the mountain
to see for miles
miles upon a city
golden and pure
love in my heart
and trust in my fellow man
this is what led me through
a somewhat naivete
the fool
who walks off the cliff
but the fool is open to experience
a life that can be rewarding
Today a blizzard hit the East Coast
we got about 2-3'
went out and shoveled the driveway
felt nice to get the heart rate up
sweat
kids laughing in the court
falling in the snow
playing like they can't walk
I think I used to like
playing in the snow
I still do
but the initiative isn't there
I'd rather drink
and surf
and read
(however I do plan to go sledding tomorrow. so I guess Im not a complete curmudgeon)
Im reading
Ray Buckland's guide to witchcraft
the word pagan in latin, pagani means
One who dwells in the country
so I guess that makes me a pagan
even though Im a Lutheran
by birth anyway
Its interesting how the connotation
of pagan has changed from something
so simple and innocent
to a negative connotation
I truly believe that the wiccan practice
is a pure pursuit
though Im not inclined to any religion
it is one of the oldest
25000 years old or thereabout
it goes back to primitive
culture
culture that associated gods with all the elements of nature
and of the hunt
constructing animals out of clay to act out the hunt prior
to going out for hide and flesh
sympathetic religion
Cernunnos the horned one
horned gods come from this history
as a part of gods that were for the hunt
they were envisioned with horns
for fertility they were swollen bellied
swollen vaginas
swollen breast
no arms
nothing descriptive about the face
the horned one
the horny one

In Like A Lion

well here I am
sitting in my mid-morning
sundrenched room
2009 came in like a lion
went out like a tyranosaurus rex
I went primal
back to the basics
back to cave paintings
and emulating the beast
for a good hunt
back to a newborn
naked in her mother's arms
the gift of new sight
is a welcome change
I was in love
not so much out
of love
but was forced not to love
(if you know what i mean)
I want to just be pure thought
untainted inspiration
and sometimes I get it
(and if I had it all the time wouldn't I take it for granted?)
but life and
the world each of us creates
delves up some real experiences
some good
some not so good
but all for reason anyway

I've come to know this far in life
god(s) are comedians
and I laugh right along with them

Suspended Kinetic Xmas

We are having a competition at my office on who's work space has the most creative xmas setup. well, our office took the prize (literally the co-workers that were competing came in yesterday morning, saw this and said we give up! ha) I built the supports and wood track to support this 027 Gauge train. Track dimension is 8'(l) x 2'-3(w)". It took me about 8 hours of design and construction time to complete. I plan to upload another video with the office lights off and the xmas lights in full regalia!

13.What a number

It's good to start over
My bookmarks are gone
no longer am I clung to
10 Of the Most Secret Programs Developed by The C^#
or How To Live Underground And Still Get A Suntan
or How to Travel Tunisia And Survive The Sinking Sands
or What Makes Time Relevant and How Did I get Involved in This Process Anyway
or How to make an Omlette Without Eggs In E flat

I am a new man
a myth of my proportions
I make no standard
I set it all myself
And there it goes out the window
like a dove into the ether

drifting sleep
random words
and something precise
like that time we huddled
in the caves
drew lines and representations
emulated the hunt
good portent
good omen
I like where I am
in the riches of mind and soul
only the priveledged can know

I've been up
I've been down
I've been all around
this garbled traffic mind of mine

Life is a busy
downtown street
car and truck vye for position
struggling to make the light
sticking down on the brakes
to avoid an accident
pedestrians run to avoid getting
run over by bedlam and pure destruction
within the traffic current

musings on pure thought

beyond structure
beyond the street transfer
of ghouls lost living
lost meaning
I live there in the gutter
down where the trash/rubbish percolates
could you imagine
drinking from that scum?
we as humans are petty
we are oysters on the reef
locust in the field
cancer in the body
some say the earth will reject
some believe that the time is nigh
I say it is another day
and we have to learn the days we live in
take responsibility for our actions
whether it through absolute necessity
beacause our rivers are choked with garbage
and our street flow with the detritis
that we produce through consumption
I once knew a very loving woman
that composted all she could
recycled everything she consumed
It wasn't until one day
when she was consumed by a raging
carnivorous pitcher plant
It was a fateful mistep
into what she thought was a
slow step into her cerebral garden
unfortunately, the pitchers desired to
bite the hands that fed them
not the human
but the human
she gave them life
she let them be
be a carnivore of vegetal proportions
decidedly I found out about this
through the obituaries in the Community Times
something so remorseful
to be printed in black and white
soy based inks spelled out her demise
I felt that she had brought something to my life
she inspired me to be more
she inspired me to floss once a day
and brush twice daily
she was a woman of multitude
she was a woman of career
in fact, the mere mention of woman
conotates the image of something that
has suffered and led minions (children)
equal opposites of nature
that is the woman
her meer-ness is alluring
what without the female there could be no male
and the inverse
we are connected
and connected we shall remain
and likedly so
life is strange
and so are we

Marilyn Makes The Evening and The Hostess Is Nowhere To Be Found

Marilyn lifts herself from the paisley patterned chince
drifts langorously across the old grain, peeled shellac, wood floors
while the dinner party congregates and cajoles in the kitchen
tarnished pans and rustic handles give off a smell of
centuries passed
centuries lifted
old wood and bloom breezes
through chipped, painted sills
the wind it channels through the gap
leads me through the crowd
in and out through the back door into the darkness
that holds me true
out in the oppressive weight of the night
(you know that feeling when the silence
and darkness become deafening?)
I am freed
inside Simon speaks coily to a prospect named frederice
THey talk of business and culture but
their ultimate aim - subconciously speaking -
is wanton passion by the grasps of the hair and mean,
lustful teeth into soft flesh
But for the trist
for the courting
the small inuendos
the suggestive glances
the gentle touches
suggest

Out in the court
Marilyn lifts her hands to the sky
and chants to the past, present, future
In the cool night
the moon-soft breeze coarses in
and out of her glorious vessel
she breathes majick into the night
memories of past, present, future
she's lived this
and has never lived before
a slim reapeating of occurences
she can only put the tip of her soul on
Cernunnos arrives with quiet smoky availabilty
her inner chant brings him forth
In the leaves
his green essence flourishes
tells her of lost dirt paths
that led man to the center
to the middle of the road
she communes with the male
the spirit noble
The smell of fresh earth
washes over her face
her hands fall to her waist
she is bare from the waist up
her breast
radiant in the full moon glow
her skin untouched and
touched by centuries
maiden and crone all the same
it matters what level you perceive life
and where you are
it's all perception
is it antiquated?
is it new technology?
she is bathed in the cool
moon glow
she chants for forgiveness
of the race
the race no one wins
chants forgiveness
for their errs
their unknowing ways
destructive results
this all due to limited sight
and
inside, a baby crawls along the floor
the new mother chases her infant son
along wooden floor boards
outside Marilyn cries on high
laughs for spells
and the little spirits
under the leaves
all the little things
wash away
they all wash away
with time
stones
smooth stones
under silent rivers

04:39

I remember dreams
the dreams they remember me
snapshots of a day gone past
mixed with inflection
of direction
and the greater machine
that presides over us all

I sit there in the classroom
the cold linoleum
beneath my sole
I am here
but Im a million miles away
creative writing
there's nothing creative about this
creative writing comes from experience
comes from living
Living I've done
living I do
I remember when we used to
play in the ditches
pretending we were some astral warriors
protecting our homeland
from the hulking steel beasts
for days into nights we would battle
wage the good war
return home to drink and revel in our honor
speak a good talk
and all that goes with the living
of a warrior in the droves
daylight climbs
into an abyss of what makes us men

I revel in those dreams
that get lost on my tongue
off the brain
on the mind
with this gift we have
with the art of the word
we have cause
because we are obviously
more that what we seem
we are of god and the gods
as I type I stream the stream
I am no one special
I just write of the indescribable
I write what I know in my heart
the pulse of the vein
the vein in my writing


The night envelopes
and comforts

ciao.

......

stamped tin and swampy garnet gems
a clip held in my nostril
steel talons were the claws that
inserted the jewel in my nose

I dropped the gem
it lie cracked and abused on the merchant's floor
looking down only to find more
more broken gems
the merchant cuts me a deal
and gives me 3 for 10
there's an animal skin wallet
thrown in for good measure

time to surface

I hold back the things I truly love
when I am at war
War with the people, emotions and events
lobbing volleys of scorn and pettiness
When I break from this visciousness
called the human condition
the infirmal insecurity
the flocking of feathers
the posturing
so sick of humans
and their greed
greed of their own nature
greed of others
We are amnesiacs
We forget our past of
the past five minutes
I'm dreaming of a better time
a better place to raise children
a saner realm
a realm where majick, mystery
are not considered to be a threat
The masses are ignorant
stupid, fumbling giants
on a fragile landscape
running into the local
wise man. who never did harm to anyone
he only warned of
dates of forecoming doom
blesphemed and effigied
hung out to dry
sometimes I langour there
mos of the time I look out form this post
your huddled masses
and your degenerate species
here's a reed to the decline
a reed to the lessening
a wish to enhanced dreams
which come and proliferate
multiply like some creeping vine
in a jungle understory
for all the apes to see
and fear

Subterranean Homespun Clues

Take Me
To Your
Cthonic Dwellings
***** *******

Hot Saharan Summer

Dappled light filters through
the wood slat windows
gives a kind of cotton glow
the room is draped in
ivories and Saharan battles

insect air
dry burnt skin
her pores dilated
expelling the last droplets of moisture
how she longs to feel the cool
touch of marble and
the coliseum games

But this arid parradise
has it's rewards
the grasslands give way to an
amazing blue endless
the sunset paints rich history
in their minds
a land of origin
a land of where we came
the red earth
dry cracked bed
the heat ripples
her vision in the distance
a lion swaggers toward
blazing landscape
stands upright
and licks her face
looks her in the eyes
with thought and love
a yearning for understanding
off into the distance
through the grasses she disappears

ranT (Edited for T.V.)

Why do we listen to the critics?
We go about our lives like a critic
maybe that's why
we're all the critics
know why?
we are scared
really scared
that's why we critisize?
unknown elements
we don't take time to understand
Some people are happy with the blinders on
feel comfortable
home fuzzy T.V. glow weatherman
with their boots while the reporter tells you
about the latest greatest tragedy
unfolding as we speak
for all your innocent little eyes
to ingest and feel better about yourself
are you informed?
are you?
Now, if you want news for the soul
news that highlights positive things
in your community
don't turn to the major stations
try your public station affiliates
Wow I no longer feel like I
need a shower after watching the news
try some time
it probably won't be salty enough for you
since your tastebuds have been dulled
by the high sodium intake
of the previously mentioned in-your-face
(and what are you going to do about it)news stations
but give it a while
you'll get your taste back
and then you'll realize

Delta Level Pursuit

Eyes roll in my head
trickle across my lids
closed, encapsulated
removed
my mind drifts onto other realities
Hints of a rumor
kisses in the dark
expectations

I venture out
into the cool moonlight
green and cool
casting in the garden
the frozen garden
hard soil
breaking blades under my weight
the bittersweet wind melody strums

moving across cold winter blewwww
frozen lake
wind reeds in hand
dry cattail frost
the sound of bleeding bandages

there's a sound in the cab
not a sound
but music
drifting through my rhyme
drifting through my story
lifting us up within

eDIT eDIT always look how you can improve )in all respects(

What are those adVERTISERS think"in
KILL THAT t.v.!

It'll rot your brain
and take you where you never thought you'd know
(my typing finger is lagging this evening..............)
ever had com'in to ya. (i would've placed that, but my mind is traveling in three-hundred Sixty degress.) sorry. shew....
Turn it off. Now.
You'll feel restless.
but give in to the long term reward..
NOW>>>>

A little less of the electromagnetic waves
a little less of the diosphere
a little less of what you thought life
was about
shocking surprise?
ULF's are real...
Science is determining
backcounter methods
of allocating our species

c'mon
did you reaLLy thing you
had it figured out?
Did you really think you
had life cornered?
think again,
my friend.

Life is large and
caught in back seats
of confusion
and teen nights
pondering the stars


And then, your old
past your prime, but
thinking like a youth

Life. It truly is surreal
What is perception
(our ego?)
I hope not.
There is more to life.
Go get lost in the desert
or in some natural preserve
where mountain lions roam.
challenge your spirit
challenge your soul
you know
deep down
where I am coming from

humble yourself
genuflect
pray
pray for us///////>
us man/womankind

Full Circle (Use Headphones If You've Got Them)

Follow this link and listen while you read. You'll see:
"Listen Here!"

Several years ago I was in a record store looking through the CD's and picking them based on cover alone (didn't your Mom teach you anything?). Did it intrigue me? Was it dashed with enough mystery or style to justify a listen? Well, there were a few, but one that stands out in my memory was this CD with the band members sitting on a log in a forest (I know, sounds intriguing, right?). The image was filtered through a green filter lens, further enhancing the "greeness" of the understory. The name of the CD was Tomorrow The Green Grass. The band was The Jayhawks. After I found a few CD's I went over to the player in the store and strapped on the headphones. First CD, it was alright - nothing drew me in track-to-track. The second, man I should learn to not judge on cover alone! The third, well this was different, warm and rich (this is starting to sound like a familiar fairy tale. hmmm..). The melodies and honest lyrics hit me almost instantly. This was The Jayhawks CD. From song to song, I was pulled deeper into their sweet melancholy. The melodies lifted me. Funny how a great sad song can make you happy. I guess they hit that spot for me on the music my Dad listened to and I grew up listening to (listening to my Dad play them on his gibson and listening to the records with him. He's quite the musician and personality). Johnny Cash, Buck Owens, Elvis, Eddie Arnold, Johnny Paycheck, Bobby Bare Sr.(my dad went to school with Bobby.). Good country music. Music that speaks to your soul.

Well, I was looking up Mark Olson this past weekend. He's one of the former and brilliant members of The Jayhawks (hopefully your listening to him right now). It turns out he's on tour! And, he's playing at Iota in Arlington, Va. with The Last Town Chorus. I've played there myself (open mic). One night I was looking at the wall of posters and artist solicitation and there was a poster of Bobby Bare Jr. (the son of my Dad's classmate and musician too) who was scheduled to play. I called my Dad that evening from Iota in a bit of shock.

I called my Dad today and told him I was getting tickets for us to go see Mark when he comes to town. I mean, Bobby Bare, childhood memories, similar venues, transcedant music carried on through generations, posters on a wall that evoke, synchronicities, magic, spark, love of what I am. Thank you Dad.......

The Smell Of Frankincense, Myrrh & Copal Resin

Light the coals
bathe in the rising plume
the cleansing plume

First the copal resin for love and purification
Let it circulate through the rooms
I walk through the rooms

Salt is life
Here is life
Sacred and new
Without strife

Cleanse
push away
and invite the spirits to gather

At 30,000 feet the earth
looks like soft geometries
and placid communities
of bohemians with a penchant for math

No wonder God has not intervened

Then I add the Myrrh
the frankincense
the cloud rises
over me
envelopes me
I look into the plume
I see the time when
we thought about civil stone cottages
and the fields were plentiful
I see the mule straining under the weight
of the whip
I see the strong, tired man
the loving sacred wife
everyday
this was life

I remember the buried prophet in the furrows
Waiting for the curious
Life made more sense
It contained more mystery
That's where my mind resides
It's where I find moments that
allow you to drift to the otherside

This is what I strive for.
The intangible
the pure circumstance
the majick
the lust of life
the pure thought dream

I wake from that dream and
there was a life lead there
visions and realities no less
more certain than the one I hold
as we speak

Give Into Free Form Thought

the muse
the thief
the uncontrolled spectre
slinks past me.

One
Two
Three
4

It's more for me
than it is for you
and I've been lost the the iambic pentameter

Lost quatraints
and given rules of creation
Jesus
Lucifer
Antagonist
Progenitor
mmmm................

these warm walls have been built slowly with scents and mystery and closets

You build the walls
bicker with the mortar
and the cacophany of machinery

We live in the rooms
that love built
we ruminate on lives past

it's not after years that the
warmth and comfort
comes to fruition

There's a cut on my finger
right down the side
how did that happen?

I'm still there
on that deserted beach
I see the signed stones

THey write to me
they call to me
for a change

This life is funny
if you really dig deep
it'll make you weep

New Life - Fronds

A shot while hiking.

In Addition (Oh The Irony)

2 billion people were expected to attend all the shows around the globe. This is slightly less than 1/3 the world population. Oh, the irony. Here's a concert highlighting enviromental awareness and all it probably did was contribute to our disasterous impact on this planet we live and depend on.

Dire Earth (Will We Really Change?)

I was watching the Live Earth Broadcast last night. The Police we're playing, and though I've never been a huge fan, they were putting on a good show. They streamed from one song to another and jammed a lot during the songs - changed up the songs quite a bit. Yeah, it was all going swimmingly until, Kongya West entered the stage going, "Yeah, Uh, Yeah, Uh...Yeah (guess what he said next..) Uh, Yeah".....This is an artist?????? I can't stand rap. It's the worst invention of entertainment ever produced. they can't sing, all they do is go yeah, uh, yeah, uh and holler about their bitches, nappy headed hoes and bustin caps and stupid ape-like shit....someone please pull the drain on these people. Aren't there exterminators for this kind of job?

Anyway, what a crap effort, trying to make people aware of their enviroment. All it made me aware of is someone made a lot of currency on this one. Here's a photo
that was sent to me from one of the field crews after the concert was over. Have we really changed? nah, I don't think so...besides who's naive enough to think this will do anything to make people think more about this planet and what 6 billion+ humans are gnawing away at this precious life-giving sphere - myself included!

For a species, deemed so intelligent, we surely are shitting on our own front step.

Dressed To Kill

1 + 1

Rotations of simple movment
drenched in sweat
and emotion
The barriers of my soul
The chains of my heart
Are all free by your touch
your smoky blue eyes penetrate
and evoke another time
WE've been here before you and me
Funny meeting you this way again
Your hand is small and gentle within
my trusting grasp
we merge like fjord to inlet
like river to sea
I could think of no better way than to
get lost in my fantasies.

The Next Lineup

grit.
Martin Sheen on Bass (post Apocolypse Now = Shades and all)
Roger Moore with the sinister drums
It's smoky
an occasional glimpse of the Ray-bans through the fog
Ray Klu-Klux-Klanzarek on modules
Riffing up
Jim Morrison the personality
the Shaman
leads this dance of what's made me.....

Me

I use words like a painter uses color

No Title (a title can be so dense, there's no need for further elaboration)

Words are powerful, illuminative, illustrative
they roll off my brain like a press....
A week to the day
and you still haven't given into reason
you're still hanging on to
dissolved truths
and a mean bucket of lies
you were sold at the traveling side show
the barter with his arm in a sling
and the mistress that just held on too long
the trade
dark secret and revealing
glossy hair in the harsh irridescent,
flourescent lamplight
the shake
the organ sings in the background
the spinning tea cups file into a blur
round and round
seasick and nauseous
the serum, the medicine
sold by the ounce
proven to take your fears away
that's until it kicks in and you want out
it's too late....hours of duress.
I'm feeling better now
strictly mine
strict time.
hours later and my watch has mysteriously stopped
you've gone
now I've got it right
so right
I'm on to something big
don't ask what it is
it's that big
I can only sense it
the beauty of hindered sight
It might be orange
It might be the end
It may just be beginning
it's coming this way
and its good
It won't be the first
certainly won't be the last
and we'll be the better for it
I passed through a charming small town today
so boho
in the mountains; the blue ridge mountains
appalachia
the true blue hung on my every last word
and I'm trying to find a way out of this free thought line
here goes
I've tried
we've tried
we're trying
and it might be good enough
like a walk down those hand laid streets
people laugh and smoke
we traipse on by
to my yellow padded lift ticket into the clouds

Hey, did you ever create the ending before the beginning?

It's So Right

Driving along
flickering white lines
metronome
Gerry Brown drifts in and out of my conciousness
over the airwaves
almost imperceptible
it's not until I realize what the dial is tuned to
that's the beauty of traveling through other towns
they're on different frequencies, you see.
That's how I like my jazz
unexpected, mirth
filled with cadence out of step of any 4/4 time
the brush
the snare
the soothing, swimming sax
the sultry voice croons
lifting to some gritty lamp lit
boozed boulevard
where drunks hang on lamp poles
croon themselves to sleep
Can you hear it?
I see a pinwheel
spinning in warm Summer afternoon breezes
(it's not humid, it's just right.)
colors blur
in the background
sunflowers reach to the light
The road goes on and
the music drifts in and out
and my mind just flys
in and out of the future, the past,
the present
Where a story has no beginning, no climax
no de'noumet, no resolve
Is it really a story then?
this ramble just does what's intended
paint a picture
a snapshot
leaving the reader to take it from there
My voice
I've heard some times
And this is one of those instances.
∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

Circling Wings Hold Steady On The Rising Thermals.

"I'm not ready to leave this life", the impuned ascender cried.
"My child, you have never been more ready, more nearer to the truth", whispered the phantasmic lifting foal. Her hooves cut her clothes, the awkward antlers stabbed her shoulders crying and begging release. "My child, you forlorn beast of the caged fools, you must come with me. I have been ordered to rip you away with blinding force from whence you stride, from whence you came, dear.
They traveled horizontally and at angles of time not understood by the lemming and sheep of what she was made. They punished the decriers of the flat-world fact and discarded the bodies of the idealist into the briars, leaving them bleeding for the vultures.
"My dear, you will like it where I am taking you. It may not happen at once. In fact, it may take a millenia, but you will begin to realize once you awaken that the life you once had in stone was nothing more than fiction - a fast fact of rumoring tyrants leading you down a path of blindness and automation. I have come here to help you grow wings and mold your sight into light once blinding, now to create clarity where you once had shadows."
the asceding lifted muttered nothing. She only looked skyward, feeling the atmosphere thin, her breath quickened. The white spots on the foal fur flickered in the moonlit stratoshpere. Her cloven hooves then, grasped her with the softness of ferns.

Waves, Algorithms, Past Participles And The Longing Of Travel

odd light
harsh afternoon glow
suggestive camera angles
and a damsel in distress
Her lacquered heels
stuck in the frozen snow
I'm giving in to secret
languages and rumors
of the past
Her presence is real
Her hair floating
Her smile is warm and forgiving

A hand outstretched from the clouds
a city burns and falls into itself
we roast marshmallows by the dim city lights
and talk of the scourge and how it took hold
the bees and the trees and the fumbling staticians
We are here if you need us
we'll be here forever and more
just reach in when you need us.

Pour Out My Heart

Age Of Reason

It's been coming on like a subtle wind
like someone is validating the feelings I"ve been feeling
for such a long time
Suddenly it's ok to
think that my majickal energy
is somehow manifest
and my inner voice doesn't shut me down
when these swells arrive anymore
It's as though she's saying, "You are ready. Just give it time."
I am patient and have been a patient for oh such
a long, long time
I am ready for the fuse

People Sit Things Get Set

Remember the fair
The girls
the late night phone calls
threats from a concerned brother
I remember the conciliatory drop

I remember why I left that town
what a wasteland of distracted thought
I could've walked to the nearest rail
but what was I thinking
Fevered friends with a penchant for destruction
above the law
or so I thought
What dream
Remember an excursion only to be led to a creekside plunge
in the early part April
I thought this would be my demise
the "friends" were actually cohorts
to my death
I took the plunge in that creek
we all did for that matter
crazed and reaching for the next chapter
What a nightmare
Somehow the divinity led astray to freedom from that life
I thank you

This memory has suddenly forced
itself on my occipital lobe
an extreme flashback
Who was I then?
Who am I now?
I think more focused
free of the detritus
absolved of my sins
through action
purious thought
sweet dedication
loves found
loves lost
sweet singularity
and the escape of not having to
worry about some girl's opnion.
Women, they have been the lust and loss of my
half life's journey
free to be me now
free
just free

xoxoxoxoxooxoxox,
Brian

Cape May I

Headed to Cape May, NJ this weekend with Mom for a Mother's Day weekend treat. The salt air, sand between toes and long walks along the breakers.

Cape May II

whallah!!!

After a fog of username conspiracy and befuddled contradictary passwords I've fucking figured it, man (with a little help from the fine techy-boomies at blogspot/google/where are they from, anyway really?

Now i need to figure out how to transpose this to my new google account. such a hindrance to creative expression....could be worse though, you know?(who was that who said that to me?)

By the way, click on the Conjur (my musical name) link to the right here or the link I've enclosed here(it'll take you directly to the song. All you have to do is press play.) and look for the song Interstellar. It's a new one from the caves. You may want to turn off the lights, lie back on what you lie on comfortably, close your eyes, and let the mind open while your eyes close (that's the point).

hope you enjoy.

So good to be logged back in......

Regards,
Brian

jim morrison is dead

Have I passed my prime
as a musical promise?
Yes, I'm afraid.
That journey's faded
the drive's really not there
I just pick up my guitar and
strum a few haunted chords
and hope something new comes along

I'm feeling disenchanted with myself
where did I go wrong
I could've done more
guess it boils down to
being a faker in a world of
earnest do'ers

Please spirit give me chance
grant me direction
and discipline
I beg of you

thank you

Thank you creator
for your strange and mysterious ways
When I thought I was leading
I was being led
to things better
more fruitful and rewarding
tho I was sent to hell and back
I touched the hand of malice
I laid down with sorrow
I do not wish to beg attraction
but thank you onlooker
look the other way there is something
more for your wanton eyes to survey

Anyway, upon reflecting I thank you
I know things can change at anytime
And they always do
chaotic universe
a fork in the road
with a cosmic superhighway
of exits and merges
and rest stops

Which one will you choose?
it's more like a merge of lanes
where you've been
is largely seen in the rear view
and the future sometime comes through
bug spattered lenses
or tops down and free firing cylinders

enough with that trite metaphor
(it seems I'm stuck on this subject)

back to the topic.
thank you soul creator
giver and taker of life
divine inspiration
mystery of our beginnings
and ends

thank you
you ugly beautiful beast
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

here I am again repeating myself....

On another blog I mention the horrible metaphor between a peach and a womans nether regions. and here I return to see my last entry witnessing a strange fruit which swings and make a metaphor to very different similarities..........so pathetic....

seasons change

cool morning
crisp air
birds sing in the treetops
and what is it that
which hangs from the cherry tree limb?
why it's some strange fruit

My, how I like the way it sways
in the sunlight
It's still there in the moonlight
kind of a waxy fig bloom

I ponder the time to pick it
just when its ripe
ready to fall from its stem
I hope its soon
because the limb sure is-a bend'in

kerchunk kerplunk

mmmmmmyeah.......
What a week or two
what a month
I went without water
for days
I threw up my lunch
It was green and blue
lick with sickness
smelled of rotten
roadkill blisters
tap her on the side of the head
push her into the brine
down deep my darling
your legs have become entwined
with seashore weeds
and mollusk shell skins
scrape your hide
off your side
and lie you on that couch
to grin
plummet cascade scream
through the atmosphere
ugly truly i'll be here for years
you see I am writing this from prison
cell block 39
they give me access
they give me time
to think about the things
I've done
wrong or right
they think they'll fix me
nah. they're just waiting
for me to die.

Stange Lands Visited

dark strange viscious lands men with shotguns for arms dont try and steal their power they'll only get jealous thinking you're aiming for their women yell for your mother to run you tell the others to leave leave now brake dust landslides kicking up dirt out pops the lead-strapped wielding monster up the rickety wooden steps Enters the house all the while the cautionary yells come from your mouth to no avail is it too late you decide to enter the abbatoir mind goes blank you cant remember anything further riding along with your mother on a darkened busy backroad cars are competing for position along this curvy pass at one point she veers off the road taking the curve too fast through the devil's tail tearthumb still clinging dead to trees it ultimaltely kills it must not be spring yet

Dabbling in Rambling

Lyrics strewn across
the crisp white,
crumpled sheets
Ink dribbled
blue on white
parchment
a wax seal
and the lost
independence
back into
the wilderness
willow grove
marsh lands
and the sweet
smell of earth
permeates your nostrils
can you remember
the mists
that clouded
your vision
and gave you
the gift of
hindered sight
remember tromping
through the sulken swamp
legs captured
by the rich humus
and entangling peat
not cane
not couch
not crucible
can set you free
you see we came here before
and we are here again
through the basin of time
and transdimensional travel
we appear
and disappear before
we are remembered
touching every nerve
and cell that surrounds
and contains the form
you travel in
that form you will give up
not as much as it gives up on you
and gives way to a lighter method
of travel
along the lines of poetry
and all the iambic pentameter
and free-form verse that
has come before you.
Rimbaud, Chaucer,
Gascoyne, Breton,
Pratinas, Erinna.....
I could've been left here lying
there in the road
trees beg forgiveness
for their witness
I could've broke free
from wisp air bindings
that held me up on the arctic summit
along the precipice
of what I was about to be
and who I was to become
I descended the river
black cold silent
followed it's langorous flow
gave into it's muddy waters
earthworm glow
the trains left the station
bliss has left my head
I'm leaving this planet
for things more blessed
Along with ones
who brought me here
You could say I've hitched this ride
But, I'm not above revealing
this curtained facade
Long Live The King.

Message For You

Here's one of the first recordings since installing the M-audio. The sound is miles above the previous setup and now I can add effects and monitor them live while I rehearse or record. This makes for a much better and natural feeling when it comes to the recording process. I still have to hook up the MIDI keystation I bought (see previous post).

Also, the lyrics are included on the web page.

here's the link to my new song, "Message".

I can feel it coming

Here it comes
slinking 'round the corner
an offering
Check out my Garage band web site
and listen to my new song, "Message"

Look over there (nudge, nudge, wink, wink)
Yeah, over there>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
a little lower
Yes, go ahead and click it.
That's right
Click it!

Overlook the Sea

All along shatter-colored rooftops
crimson terra cotta
tarnished, green copper drains
to the ocean down below

you the sage

the wise one
a seer into lives lived

a man whos gone

and traveled unto

the layers of time

and lives of other minds

great seer

distance traveler

echoes in the next room
beckon a million miles

warm crackling vibrations emenate from
the speakers transmit from another time
Drifting along thos sundrenched rooftops
Seabirds dart and dive
around your weightless frame
you drift and meander
in between cumulous
and air so sweet
glints of light on the ocean shore
we circle up here for time
Out over the curving horizon
ships dot the white capped sea
the captain scrutinizes the dials
gently touches the pinned photo
of his Meredith
She cradling their child
in summer dress and clothes line
She on the widow watch
waiting for her long gone lover
and giver of life to return
their boy cradled cooing in her arms
her breasts keep him warm
ocean breeze blows in
from the West
the grasses sweep in
the evening thrusts
rocky soils birth
earthen blooms
blue dusty tones
succulent and tight to their bearer
rich horizon

sweeping striate casts of amber,

blue ochre, incandescant licks of blaze
sun sets on muldoon bay
ocean swells into its berth
impregnates its sanctuary cove
lunar pulling
the way of a good lover
in and out
strife and grace
she calls to you at dawn

leaves you feeling empty
than when she was

lying across the end

of your bed

late afternoon light basked
She returns at dusk
movement
bodies are one
magnetic attraction
give and take
unto you
into me

limbs stretched out
across your table
I let my vowels
get in front of my words

you are standing
there beside me
asail into the night
light gown
flailing

I knew your countenance
your face so fresh
in my mind
i see the course
of our ending

its a good thing
in shapes of things
to come
I feel it
from centuries before

Mistress come
unto my side
help me spell
this chant inside

lasting come
last is best
besot your crimes
crowd be blessed.

time is unkind
but age is beauty
sentience is natural
awareness is lurking.

Earnest Ramblings

you know
I had to take the t.i.m.e.
to log in,
turn on
tune out
and then resuscitate

cmon did you think I didn't
know your address?
And its Initial Proximity?
did you not think I had the amplitude?
I hope you find ears to think
I am the prime minister, sister
the thinker of tin time
the wine the undo sublime
we are all ready for the anti-rotational charge
the flat oval sphere
due to geeeeeessss, man
it'll take you down
streets of nevermore
cutting from the pan
tastes you dont want to admit to
socrates deems the poets insane
where did they come from?
electric charge
the music stops for no reason
im left with
and within
sand at 10 micron particles
virial at a 1/10
bubonic
Your plaque hangs deperately on the wall
Slightly askew
in glints of sunshine
let me
my god just let me in

Where? Where? Over There

pretty lackluster
pretty well undone
uncensored
no matter how the pain insists
no matter how much I miss you
how much I miss this

It's more how much I look
forward to a new skin
And that's where I'm in

the new skin
the 7 year itch
the shedding of dermis
the sluff
the stuff
cant get enough

Asunder

will you
can i
should you
I know I would
can we be
just alike
and different
on a star lost plane
where we went down
in the desert
the sand between our ears
the lost of tears
in our extremes
the doctors
and jackyls
at our doors
waiting to blow 'em down
wating to succumb
waiting to release
into space
and all that it has
to offer
wait cant you see it?

wait cant we come around
there's been the chills that
come in the damp spaces.
I was looking int a century
turned
I felt the ages in the meters
the conduit could cause
some suffer'in
I love you and what you
done to me
cause without you
what have i got?

I dont think i'll ever walk those
streets the same man
don't think the park will
look the same
even as my fingers tuyojdk
tuout

ttuot
tuot

ttuyt
typr sonmer
labytrunth
stuyle
i wil staaay here gor bnow
to create again..

Full Moonless

Where did you go Mr. moonlight?

serendipitous evening

saw the band Guster

didn't know much of their music

but they won me over

from the light show to the

audience participation (on their encore

they asked the crowd to sing - accapella -

one of their songs while they

exited stage right

upon their return they chimed right in with

the audience) to their jams that took off.

kismet evening.

Grand Allusion

he has all the capabilities
of a true saint
walking this unforgotten sphere
he's got the knowing of
what he is
He's got his E.G.O. out of check
He thinks he's the second, third
fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh,
eighth, ninth, tenth, once, doseeeee,
tresay, untold coming
He's got what it takes to
become what he is not

Adrift

Touchdown upon that great sea
no land to search for miles
wild eyed and waiting
for my ship to arrive

My wings spread out to dry
Where's my power to levitate?
A white dot on a blue cellophane sea

Proud Papa

I just made a succesful bid on an M-Audio Omnistudio interface (rack mounted) and an M-Audio 61 key Midi controller. I have Sonar for recording, but I've been reducing 1/4" inputs to 1/8" to my simplified onboard audio card to get my audio recorded. As you can guess, this doesn't fare too well. And recording vocals thats just another headache altogether. The Omnistudio has (I believe) 4-6 simaltaneous inputs along with MIDI capabilities along with more I/O's than I'll ever need anytime soon. I can't wait to get this up and running. keeping my fingers crossed it all works seamlessly. Well, you know how that goes?

Celestial

wait, can't you see it?
lying out there
vacuum of space
Infinte hollow caving in on it's own credibility
Stars are prime candidates
for its voracious appetite

Can't you see it lying there
spread out amogst the galaxies
lying, laughing and a most spaced out roaringly guffaw
then whispering just to its own ugliness and horrid approach,
How exciting it must be to live as one of their kind.....

to interact
to love
to hate
to look out upon that great sea
a sea launched from my imaginary world
to hold hands with children
feel their gentle innocent grip
all the while, the sea foam chases our feet
dashing our traces we were ever here

Oh I live like the fingertips of your frame
extended and somewhat vicarious

this is the most one can expect around here.

Rising Up From The Valley Below

Supple. figurine.
a delicate cross between mass and majick
I've been here before
You've been here with me
And we all ran for the caves like
something engrained from centuries before
Lying here on a sea foam shore
the water is warm
the salt is sweat
from my pores
Drink, drink now
Deep, deep
Down within
How do I vow to extiguish
the bellicose voices
in my head
and throughout my world
Wherelse is there left to hide
and call sanctuary.
I am wating for this voyage.
Seen it before
waiting again.

Day One. We Leave For Armageddon

Drifting down that long dusty road
a long way to go
mystery on my right side
lust in the back

We're watching the night sky from the rolled down hood
the pale blue paint on the car is like neon against the full moon night.
hair in the cool arid breeze
i look into my rear view and exchange a desirous glance at the mistress
in my back seat

I ask Mystery if she's enjoying the ride.
she replies, "This reminds me what I dreamt about last night".
I try not to think about it too much - what she might be getting at.
She always had the ability to force me to finish what she was thinking.
and she'd always get the answer she wanted. How manipulative.

The gravel puncturing against the tires
the low rumble of the engine
the sweet smell of desert lilies punctuate my last sense
I could drive on this road for all the nights left in my life.

Hopefully the sun will never rise again.
I could stay here on this lunar plane.

Real Torts And Missed Opulent Territories

They were more like
watercolor washes
and the landscape
swished and swooned
around you like
a drunken sphere
and to drink it would
not neccesarily be the path
Nor have I been known to
stay on that path
I've strayed
I've strewn
I've missed my mark
I've been to the moon, man.
Should I take the
abode and share the
locale
would you share
Would you be nigh?
Maybe a sojourn into
the desert
the open heart and
cauterized wound
the mother earth
ripped and dragged her
led her away
seashore mist
and foam in my breath
the expanse of this horizon
I've left it to my better senses
sight within
and from a scene above
we were in those aged towers
speaking and scratching
sentiments of love
guarded and ascending
I don't want to stray
so let's lead each other
you with the pen
and me with the letter.

dreamin about the past

A past that never was
But all the characters were the same
My old flame
the one that drove me insane
with love
lust anger
rage passion
jealousy. Did i mention love?

There she was
not a reunion but
a comfortable return
she in my arms
lips pressed together
tight embrace
can't hold her tight enough

I wanted to bed her
but it seemed as though
I'd lost my chance
"you should have tried earlier"
I listen to After Everything
remember the daylight drives
I remember the after hours journeys
to the beach
listening to my favorite band ever, The Church.
We could go drifting off into the dunes
looking for signs from The Father
I do believe
That's what I saw.
In fact, I still have a relic from that day
it stays in my amulet jar
next to the quartz arrowhead
broken rosary that found its way around
my neck for a time
and a stone with a hole in it.

I appreciate the subtleties
the lost mercurical wisp of epiphany
passing by like a steam train
in the night
soft amber glow of the passenger windows
streak by on a daedaleum spinning
The flicker in a childs eye
soft smiles
and innocent laughter

You Can't Undo What's Been Undone

But you can rebuild
You can try to learn from the turmoil
you've contributed to

I don't like to hold on to negative emotions
It's just not healthy for the soul
I admit its a work in progress
but I am cognizant
and always trying
to be more compassionate

Born Again Vegetarians

THey pick up their hemp fiber bibles
and pound their fists into a tofu alter
Scremaing for you to redeem your soul
lest you become a hapless cattle
on the slaughterhouse line

THey declare that you'll be
one step closer to eden
That the soybeans had it
coming to them anyway

And if you look a little closer
why is that a silk bra strap
peeking through the latest
in hemp fashion pullovers
and what about that leather
wallet dangling from their bull-dyke chain

A bunch of hypocrites
If you really want to do something
for the animals then construct a mass suicide
that would be one for mother earth.

Afterlife

off in the distance
yeah, up ahead
this car brakes and swerves
rolls into a ditch
slides down an enbankment
end over end
tires come undone
and go bounding off in unknown tangents
(they're still rollong down a lone airstrip somewhere)
lies smoking on its hood

crawl from the wreckage
emerge like a deformed newborn
from your crippled womb

you spit blood and grass
and broken teeth
why, is that an angel I see
wait there's something grey in the corner of my eye
lifes lost all meaning now
the corporeal sense remains no longer
all I feel is air now
a gentle lifting under the arms
there you stand next to me
I am intact and unharmed
we stride up the path to our front door
you reach for the key
insert it into the lock
and it unlatches
grants us entrance
the stairs are where they have always been
my favorite painting of
Steve Kilbey's "The Beginning Of Everything" hangs
in the library staring at the reader
The sunlight peeks in through the soft lit lamps
incandescant
magnificent just like I left it there before
clip clop clip
walk down the hall
the wooden slats creak and whisper
talk about centuries past
how they were sacrificed
for the good of man
(I was a Jain, you know)
reveal myself to the garden out back
stone path which teaches me to stray
investigate the bloom which catches my eyes
it wasn't there yesterday.
there's a whole field of wild california rose before me
I dare not stray amongst its branches but
admire it from its edge
Achillea spots the landscape
its coryomb flat it's penduncle reaching
up to the sun
the one
the glint of a soft field
orange sunlight glow
cast over everything
walking along this garden of my choosing
I stumble upon the remains
of a fox
which by now its bleached bones
are starched and dried
pitted from the decalcification
the return to the earth
the cycle of life
my body will someday lie
not in a wooden box
but in the earth
for all the digesters there
to take me back
to my elemental form
to the essence of what our shells are
This fox must have struggled
it must have darted and dodged
while a horror of claw and teeth
breathed down its neck
I feel alright still
The only thing my bones hurt like the ages
I must go lie down
rest this weary capsule
let my my spirit travel
set it free for an hour or so
Back through the screen door
its creaks and slaps shut behind me
my shoes are muddy
and it seems i got a cut somewhere
maybe it was the thorns?
I must have got a little too close
I unlace my boots and slip them off
and raise up to meet my countenance
in the mirror
a little dishevled
some lines on the face
and that sneaking gray hair
(that's my sage mark)
off to bed I go
across the talking floor boards
up the old wood stair
my hand gently lifting me
up each riser
the smell of a light musty wood smell
wafts by
(a ghost maybe?)
at the top of the stairs
the picture of my mother's grandparents
stares at me
they follow me into the bedroom
I grasp the glass crystal door knob
which leads to my bedroom
and slowly turn the latch
it unhinges with a pop
and the door springs free open
I push on in and begin to undress
(my body aches)
I pull back the crisp white sheets
(where have I seen this before?)
the bed absorbs every inch of me
it is bliss
I lie there looking at the hand etched copper ceiling
I get lost in it's niches
the veil of sleep begins to wash over me
I see you lying there in your net
looking up at the stars
I see my hand carressing your side
and looking at you
love in my heart
and awestruck with your beauty
you on the inside
your love just shines through
shimmers with unchecked radiance
they we were all running
like the apocolypse was at hand
we ran until the land ran out from under us
and we flew
without wings
without effort
without question
of what abilities
we covered up with our
daylight minds
drifting over land
barely scraping the surface
almost clipping the trees
it was when you realized
the improbability
the concious mind
the critic
the doubter
That you would plummet to earth
like a space born
astral shooter
rocketing towards
the soft brown earth
I can't seem to recover
I can't let go of the corporeal logic
the earth spins closer
sickening feeling closing in
the trees are a blur and I feel the
limbs give me a lash as I penetrate their canopy
bones splinter
this can't be happening
the pain it's back with all the revenge
of a jealous lover
to claim me for its own
the pain has taken owness
I lie there coughing pine needles
and dirt blood and broken teeth
the trees are smoking from where I
pentrated the canopy
a bird calls in the tops
siings me a song
maybe a lullaby
and then there is sleep.

Looking For The Churning Fire In My Soul. I Know It's There.

the sound of an old locomotive
hitching up it's bar steam-driven gears
the wheel spin on the rain slicked track
Coal gets thrown in the cauldron
The sound of the flat shovel
scraping the wooden, coal stained floor
belching into the heavenly azure
the billowy coiling blackness
obscures the warm, true ball of fire in the sky
The crow sits on the lamp post
in the station
he calls out your name
but you only look in disdain
for this poor poor creature
of such meager means
If he only knew
If she could only tell
their lives are in short denial
and I, the avatar who crouches
in the jungle
who lives your life inside you
and pushes you to do things
you wouldn't consider otherwise

Passengers in the windows
go streaming by
the coal breathing beast picks
up momentum
the faces go from discernible
expressions of excitement and
saddness
lost and focused
a child pulling on the bonnet
of a reserved and sophisticated woman
to a mixing blur
of contradictory contorted
countenances
nothing is making sense
and it all coming true
in the windows of this soul
of this steel wheeled beast

Walking along that macadam path
the smell of earth surrounds
invigorates, renews your soul
you go in tired and scared
and reappear a new life

Running through those trees
the wind blowing from all directions
the trees breath is brisk
it goes right through you
they feed you messages centuries old

you know me
we know thee
and we're on the streets of old
hand-laid streets
we tread upon
gaslamp lit and those
known sweet smelling tradewinds
we traveled upon

trigger on my mind

Been reading
on the ways I can connect

Topical and deep
I could question
Why wouldn't I?
Why don't you?

Think of it like this
you are an amoeba
in life's sea
you don't know any more
than the nearest amoeba
yet you/we think we know and figure this
whole realm out.
such follishness
no religion
no depth of knowing on man's part
could ever begin to figure this

I'm telling you it's ugly, sad, cruel,
magnificent, beautiful, excitable,
majickal, illustrious
all the grammatical errors
speeeeling mishaps
and what you thought you were
and nothing you've ever
considered
because and cause cuz
life is enjoying this moment
taking it all in
each and every moment

i don't proclaim to get is all the time
or even a fration htereof
but I know
you know
If you let it.

just let it.

Naughty or Nice?

I'm searching for a title
something to launch from
I just came across the history
of St. Nicholas.
Did you know about Knecht Ruprecht?
One of St. Nick's accomplices.
Upon arriving at the doorstep
he would summon the children to the door
where they would have to perform
tricks or dance and entertain him.
if they failed at doing so or
their crimes over the past year
justified so
they would be beaten or
put into Ruprecht's sack and
taken away to his home in
the Black Forest.
Such violence.
Conversely, if they were good or
they performed well enough for
Ruprecht they would be given gifts and treats.
Saint Nicholas was a giving man
to people in their darkest hour
he would find them in the night and
deliver gold
the pawnbrokers are protected by him
children, sailors too
Supossedly he is responsible for
the destruction of the temple of Artemis
Some say that Nicholas' Feast Day is
to overshadow Diana's birthday of the same day.
We come from violence
We are controlled by the threat of violence
We love to see violence
(I certainly don't speak for all on this)

Tangential Travel By Thought

Log in.
Lock on.
My sidewinder is growling.
"Kilo Mike Alpha, Do you copy?"
Cruising at angels 30
I want to engage
Just waiting for Hotel to copy

"Maintain angels 30 and disengage".
"What the Fuck, this enemy is clearly violating my airspace!"

Fuck it, I'm going full guns
I'm within range and taking this shot.

A blaze of irradiated shells
pierce their canopy and frame
disintegrating it's integrity in
about 100 rounds per second.

Awash in adrenaline
I am an ace in the hole
I'll put a spear right down
your last turbine
You'll be spewing JP5
down your nose
YO'll be gasping for your last breath
if I'm on patrol

Well, if that wasn't
the biggest load of tripe
Yeah here I am
typing my keys
finding the words to give
into my ascent into
what I do not care to know
what I do not even have the
capability to grasp
For here we are
we are here people
we are here
we are now
not later
not then
And I'd like to know
how this all merges
how we can throw our characters into
space and wait for an answer
an answer
like a SETI post
not defunct
but waiting
patiently and biding my time
with art and artifice
with flotsam and that shore shit
that washes on your sandy beaches
from centuries before

Blues.
I don't know how I got here.
Tangential travels of
clicks and scrolls
Like the seers before
beware the day
you stop fighting the
desire to just give in.

beware

And just then, like the hurried
ending to a meandering interlude
a stranger taps me on the shoulder
and asks the way to Denton and Foster.

I respond, "There's Church Street over to the
left and up the hill. it's a climb but you should find
what you're looking for there."

That was the last time I saw that
nomad.

Bypass The Artery, We're Going Straight For The Heart

Maybe it's not good to
change music midstream in thought
Ah yes, back to the romantic
back to the heart
Being gentle is a good thing
and silence is golden
My words, my letters typed
are the only verbalization
from my being

I remember lying on my hood
looking up at the great dome
and wondering
pondering what this all
really was/is

We live these lives
what is it?
What are we, really?
Aside from driven by the corporeal sense
the spirit is what I am talking about.
Who, What, When, Where, Why?
I am looking for answers in
the response a stranger gives me on a street
the fortune cookie that I open
the amulet which sways from from my mirror
If she is looking at me
there are things afoot
When she turn her back, so to speak,
She is calm with my decisions

I'm always looking at the subleties
for messages

Contradiction

Light and soft
that's where the comparisons lie

Hot pain from a hot, lit torch
to an ice in Arctic shores.

To a new love
hopeful and sewn

to finding loving letters
Not written to home.

I'd like to take this time

That was the last time I
ever thought I'd ever say ever

While you are here
can I let you know
I love you
THis is not a sign of weakness
Though we might be trained

There's a lot out there
dumbing you down
making you forlorn
and suspecting of the other man
And woman

Don't let it get to you
let the love within
let yourself give in
It might be a inkling
it may be a speck
It might be hoover dam
(Well then, this not for you then)
I want you to know we are here and
we are all here to move forward
in all that we instinctivey know
to give in all the day-to-day moments

I love you all....I really do.

Caught up in my moment

Granted Access
I'm In.
There's a Jungle here
The major has entered the corrugated
metal bunker
Silently approaching each of us as we lie
in our bunks
We dream of monster truck rallies
pregnant girlfriends
and winning this fucking war of attrition

And as I lay down on the gas
through that thick forest
with its humps and barrels
we rolled on
rolled on to a crimson horizon

back in that bunk I lie
with the yelling revelry in my ear
in my soul
we are a men changed
for what?
To become
what we as boys
dreamt of.
Killing machines
In the good of survival
of our machines
that spread like a forest fire
across the brush

Can you see that green, golden land?
brush washing in the wind
lions licking their lips of their
last fighting prey
Sun
it is risen high in the sky
parched
and alive

march with you
my savior
lead me to you
I am with you
There is a lot of living to be had
here and after.

ciao xoxxoxxo

Title

noose lossened
loose verbs froth from his
wordy lips
the way they part
the lost syllables
the lost species
the lost portion
that grew inside me

I heard once that it can enter through you
in and by all the stoma that you contain
you are plant
you are man
you are fish

And like the sea you will roll
under heaven's weight
and hell's gravity

Here you go

Here's some more of my songwriting
Listen to the words
Listen to the rhyme
Listen to my soul
I am putting all on the line

time and time begins and ends

Starting with I and ending on we
I want to talk to you
In all your singular sides

I want to rip right through this veil
See what it has to hide
Maybe nothing
Maybe more

A quick three line sonnet
A fast way to be reborn

YOu surely have given me
a life to live
I thank you great creator
Though your visage may be grim
and smug
there's a possibility you
would be hacked to pieces

were you to make yourself known
because like the
spawn you regurgitated
we have a burning glow
of hatred for things we don't understand
Like the times we burned and pillaged the towns
where a single pagan ran.

In a little kaliedescope I see you
You're many and varied
Like the lot we all are
Cruel and loving
Lost and found
high and low
hemmed to the bow
Of crashing waves
and a figurehead that spoke to us
which led us into rocky shores

There I lie gasping on that marvelous jeweled shore
the salt water nourishing my creaking, tired bones
I left my booger board on that damn ship
I can't go on no more.

Thus spoke Meqluiades

I spent the evening figuring out how to
upload my music to GarageBands.com
Here's the site:
http://www.garageband.com/artist/conjur

Unfortunately, at first, I couldn't convert my music files
to mp3 (the rewuired format)
But after some
hemming and hawing
I downloaded Nero
and shazaam I finally did it.

Well, it's 3am and I have
one of my songs up
I feel proud to put my music out there.
I hope you enjoy it
take something away
inspires you to quit your day job
buy a rickshaw and see the country side
by candle light

Thank you great spirit(s)
for always showing me
the way home.

xoxoxoxox, Brian

At The Juction

In the middle
Of the road i do dwell
Not the fringe
Not the bypass

You asked for the listless kinky
the darkened blue lit room

your silhouette
is blue adjectives
and negative dark depressions

your lips make blueberry moans
and your licorice hair tossed under the weight
of fistular grip
it's strong and demanding

Trippy Epiphany

I noticed that if you take say, for instance

http://profile.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewprofile&friendid=926016

and you play the videos in specific
order simultaneously you can get an answer
unlike you've never heard before

tryityouit'llmakeyoufeelgood

To be continued....

I hope you haven't lost all hope
in stopping by and reading this automatic rant
I promise I'll be back in better form
than before we met last

I promise that I will give into the scribe
The one that feeds me
I can't just call it up willy-nilly
And if I could that wouldn't be any fun anyway

I like her mystery
let's keep in the shadows
where I'll find you on that hill
seaside breezes and bright gold towns
there she'll meet me
sometimes more
Sometime in the form of man
sometimes she is the squirrel
sitting on the rock
an acorn in her paws
wiry frame
her deep, black eyes
someone sent a message to me
I stood in a glade
surrounded by long forgotten battlegrounds
hallowed ground
I'd come here
drawn by unknown desire.
sad, dark thoughts
I stood in this glade
watching, waiting for something to appear
the woodland stood
quiet and insulated
If by the snap of nature's finger
the leaves began to move
there was movement all around me
from inside the soil arose an army of squirrels
all busy at what they were finding
lost treasures, spent casings
they tried to bury them as the soil
rejected them

I bend to see the tarnished locket
dulled by the century earthen cover
it is cold in my hand
Soft, moist clods of earth stick its surface
awaken a picture by prying the hinges free
A picture of a woman
who's alibaster skin with weighted determination
written on her expression
I imagined this soldier - her lover
lying awake in the encampment
gazing at her in the candlelight glow
saying a prayer
just before he blew out the candle
and feigned sleep
hoping only to return to her side

the squirrels came to me
ran up my limbs
sat on my arches and looked out over the forest
the sweet autumn breezes which i can only
hope that you know.
in fact go, take awalk in the woods
I want you to know that smell of earth
I want you to take a clump of it in your hand
and inhale
deeply
let it invoke memories of lives and entities past
smell the aerobic quality of it's life
then tell me how it feels to stand under the stars
looking up at that great big dome
and how the majic is alive
be silent for days upon end
there is strength in silence
go without and go within

you must learn to lose what you can
so you cannot lose what you need

This is my fortune.

Keep Howling And Talking To The Wind

Just got off the Transdimensional Express
Faster you go
the more time slows
a low boil
Put your hands in
Succumb your body to its
phantasmal gore
And you will fly, boy
Through the vacuum of time and
all its discontinual roar
Silence.

Well, you may end up
on Trafalmador with all its sirens screaming
A lecher in your ear
Until your shot
Could you spare a penny, my dear?

I took this childs hand one time and felt
like I knew
A time reeling in the orchard
A time when things were
Of vibrant colors
Skies of cumulous
skies of crimson
Sunset hot breezes
and arid skies, burnt and beautiful
aged and wise

I felt timeless

sailor on the waves

gave my mates a dissimilar look

and rounded them with my blade

touch down on dry
a sea beast to a dog
Where the sand, cradles your feet
the sparkling seaside glints in dying orange glow.
I stood at that seaside
I called to you
from all my voices
High and low, eyes closed
mouth hemmed
in my soul

Remember those dreams?
barely touching the earth
with the right combination of belief
and wonderment you could lift
I still have those dreams
And give into the enigma of
pure thought flight.

Always looking to the four directions within
Cause to the breeze and toss the dust
Into the wind
my lovely child
You will go far
and dream wild

I'm back from the forest and back into the wilderness

Well, I kind of fell off the blogosphere for a bit. Things have been a bit of a slight upheaval lately. I am writing right now from a cafe on the edge of the world and I will write more when I have the chance. It may be a while though.

I did spend some time in the Appalachian mountains in Virginia. What a beautful place. I will post some pictures of this when I get some time.

Drifting down that long dusty road
a long way to go
mystery on my right side and
lust in the back

We're watching the night sky from the rolled down hood
the pale blue paint on the car is like neon against the full moon night.
hair in the cool arid breeze
i look into my rear view and exchange a glance at the mistress
in my back seat

I ask Mystery if she's enjoying the ride.
she replies, "This reminds me what I dreamt about last night".
I try not to think about it too much - what she might be getting at.
She always had the ability to force me to finish what she was thinking.
and she'd always get the answer she wanted. How manipulative.

The gravel puncturing against the tires
the low rumble of the engine
the sweet smell desert lilies punctuates my last sense
I could drive on this road for all the nights left in my life.

Hopefully the sun will never rise again.
I could stay here on this lunar plane.