Particles

When I am asleep
particles that are me escape and float
aimlessly among the evening night air
to mingle with the elements

some fall and embrace the very earth
absorbing the power of growth and renewal
that the mantle consists of

some float high and search out moonbeams
and stars
and sometimes just the void that is nothing;
the ether

some search out mystery and knowledge
that was left floating when others passed on
particles of Einstein, Steinbeck, and Lennon

some run from danger
atomic dust
hydrocarbons
methane
sulphur

some listen to the music of 1000 years
that weaves in and out
of peace and turmoil
music of the masters and the obscure…
seeking solstice for the soul

and some just get lost and float, aimlessly

but some find you
and mingle with your very being
they caress your kindness
explore your wisdom
they are in awe of the beauty that is you…

and these are the particles that come back to me
as they cannot wait to return
those particles of you
to become particles of me again.

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Too Many Tears

There’s been
Too many years
And
Many tears
Between what is right and what is wrong.

There’s been
Too much cryin’
Too much lyin’
Between what’s suppose to be right

The time for mending all things that are gone (…that are gone)
Appears to be why I’m writing this song (…writing this song)

There’s been
Too many years
And
There’s been too many tears
Between what is right and what is wrong.

There’s been
Too much cryin’
Too fine a line
Between what’s suppose to be right

The time for mending all things that are gone (…that are gone)
Appears to be why I’m writing this song (…writing this song)


Time: About 1994
Recorder: Sony Reel-to-Reel
Location: Brantford
Song From: Original Composition

Instrument(s): Yamaha PSS-680 Synthesizer, Gibson E355 w/Firebird Neck

Significance: Original recording was made to experiment with speed and background harmony.  Song is in a country 2:4 beat with Synth used as piano fill-in.  This is a very raw version but has the song’s theme captured.


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Walk Away

I see you walk away
You hold your head in the air
I’m never gonna see your
face anymore…

Was it somethin’ I said
Was it somethin’ I did
Can you let me hold
On a little more…

Don’t know how it started
Don’t know how it began
When the pressure got heavy
I up and ran…

Baby can we talk about it
Let me make you understand
There’s just some things a woman don’t
know about a man…

{repeat}


_________________________________________

To a shuffle beat.
Time: About 1996
Recorder: Sony Reel-to-Reel
Location: Brantford
Song From: Original
Instrument(s): Yamaha PSS-680 Synthesizer, Gibson E355 (Firebird neck).

Significance: This song is done in one take – there are no over-dubs or double tracks.  The song is about meeting someone for the last time.  (There was a wrinkle in the tape about a minute in so when I went to digitize the song, it breaks us for a second or 2 – sorry ‘bout that.).

To hear the above song as originally recorded please click (or paste in browser):

http://www.soundclick.com/player/single_player.cfm?songid=10750488&q=hi&newref=1

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Cumulus

How would one float, remote?
How would one drift, or shift?

Would we just laze along
Would our essence be strong
Would we need to endure or belong?

Or would we just be Cumulus…

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Summertimes Comin’

Summertime’s comin’ – life’s a beach (summer city – summer city)
Don’t try the car phone – we’ll be out of reach (such a pity – what a pity)
Skateboard, windsurf, tan every day
Drive to the beach in my… Cabriolet

Summertime’s comin’ – school’s out of reach (at the drive-in, we’re at the drive-in)
Don’t bother goin’ – no one left to teach (we’ll be flyin’ – really flyin’)
Volleyball playoff’s, beach blanket sports,
Day-glo sunglasses.. fluorescent shorts.

Summertime’s comin’ – there’s girls on the beach (we’ll be tryin’ – really tryin’)
Don’t try to call them – they’ll be out of reach (we were tryin’ – really tryin’)
Beach bunnies, sailboats sandcastles, Malibu,
Muscle beach, ice-cream… me and you!

==============================================================

Time: About 1996
Recorder: Sony Reel-to-Reel
Location: Brantford
Song From: Original
Instrument(s): Yamaha PSS-680 Synthesizer, Fender Telecaster Squire
Significance: I felt it was time to salute the Beach Boys and write a Beach song.  I’m not sure if the song captures the Beach Boy genre, I guess it just ends up being my Beach song.  You can guess the era by the song’s words..

To hear the above song as originally recorded click (or paste in browser):

http://www.soundclick.com/player/single_player.cfm?songid=10733215&q=hi&newref=1

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dear maggie

dear maggie
paused interruptions, corresponding monotones; stare silently
without reference to anything. Malignant feelings caliber knives
of steel: love pains, love. Non-existent whispers bemoth the
cataclysmic forces… benevolence of the wind…rhetoric’s of the
rains…smiles from the sun…looking forward…life is to be
straight ahead*…do not tamper with the naturals, they will come
to the bearer. Reasonables among reason, passionates among
passivists…rapture by claw, love by hate? Life represents the
inter-course of mind and time, of mind and mind, of mind and mood
…there is no acme to life unless one looks backward and ponders
on maybe a better time than now…can it not be now that is better
…is not yesterday irrelevant to today…that happier past only
nostalgic? Neolithic man…bear trap mind…survival and the six
foot penis…intercourse of the blind…Ours is to reason life.
Exclude Gods purpose and derive your own…his purpose is another
mans. Penny in pocket, smiles on your mind, cold wind down your
collar, so sad when its all over. Hardships breed happiness, breed
life and its secrets; malignant feelings caliber knives of steel…
love pains, love life, love…open your arms Maggie; Im coming home!

written june 1972

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Baby’s been gone

Baby’s been gone
Been gone so long
I don’t know what to do
Or what to get into

Place out of time
Words out of rhyme
I really have nothing left
To believe in

Words without noise
Games without toys
Can’t you hear the wind
It is screaming

People don’t notice
Drivin my lotus
Is the pain really there
Or do I only imagine

People all gone
I sing my own song
For those who are there
But not really listening

Fixative stare
Gasp without wonder
Grasp without hold
Mistake minus blunder

One cold hard glance
Don’t give me a chance
It’s only a mirror
So what’s your problem

Love that was strong
Something went wrong
Leaves on the trees
All fell off yesterday

I look past their eyes
My thoughts mesmerized
I’m lost in a world
Of no feeling no senses

Sitting alone
Writing this poem
It’s just my thoughts
That I want to go home

My life stepped like ridges
I can’t cross the bridges
It’s like grasping the air while
I’m falling from the ground

Baby’s been gone
Been gone so long
I don’t know what to do
Or what to get into.

U of W 1972.11.30

Babys been gone

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the lasting pessimism

the lasting pessimism that prevails in the lattitude
of every meaning that can possibly be drawn
by the curtains that hang limp, evading the sun
unclear speculation unattached meaning no pity
release of soul expectations-icannot comprehend
what infrences the people can have what ideas
you offer consititution for what your lessons of fact
are based on mans own fantasy yet you dont remember
all are human we that cannot understand are human too
Demagoged violent pressures come and pray learn
that god has the world you require god knows
all
divided curtains are not always channels for the sunlight
and the dawn is far away-dawn is the limp curtailing
that inhibits curtailing for here impliments only
implimenets only retraction-subtraction of miniscule
explosions within the mind we can no longer expand
so we must contract-there are no outer limits
influence is limitless so is the sun so is the sky
pastures of good moulds of ware appalachians of
things-objects of the mind-or objects of other minds
there is only the special man who is not told and
he is the luckiest the fortunate one not yet dead to
the world
depleting fog devestating sun can we not see you clearly
overlooking is beyond us but is also under us and not
around the circle the circle that grows bigger and emptier
in the centre fellows cry for internal thought for
metaphysical for the emperically trained repeat the repeated
fornicalt the fornicated live the lived love the loved

follow your future your figured future it is there for the
taking not for the asking pl ease dont ask for the future
because if you do you will find yourself in it-its no
question anymore smile just smile and so will the
rest with an involentary regression until it is not yours
at all as it is with everything everywhere

condem us past for we have thought
that restless times we so have fought
for all the rest we mindless sought
beyond all our needs what can be bought

need i say more
ill close the door……quietly
dare i disturb the universe
Dare I disturb the universe

written UW october 1972

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small hole

There is a small hole
in the wall
that keeps the air
from escaping
from the outside to
the place within
I like it here
Quiet and still
damp and warm
dark and comfortable
If not for the air that
creeps through the hole
and disturbs my isolation
would I be content in my
own oppression.

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i made some perforations in a piece of paper

It may seem invariably strange to most of the inner sex group but upon receiving word about some very stagnant melancholies i made some perforation in a piece of paper; and much to my delight they materialized. It was a weird feeling to imagine i’d really actuated an unimaginable feat of diabolic regurgitation but unknowingly this is what i’d done to attain this monstrosity. Several moments later a serene alimony of a person happened upon my discovery and queried its existence. I told him sure it (or they, as I have corrected him) was for real and who hadn’t seen this mumbled lottery juxtaposed, but he still didn’t understand. I explained that to truly retain the fixed image that these illusions retaliate, one must over-ride all realities and radiate their intermind to a mesmerized utopia above and beyond the rhetoric and literate dimensions. He pondered but did not comprehend.
Now everyone defeatable I can quintilliate would understand perforations in a piece of paper but none of them would comprehend. And in the mixed mass millions peanut butter brains would see my point but none could understand or remember the feats of remembrance I had attained, but then is it hard not to understand something un-comprehendible. Rhubarb was another comedy that bushy tailed and running wild hid under the back porch and died of stones before alimony and Formosa sprang jeweled and cumming flight birds across the ocean. And they didn’t understand. They rode upon their gilded chariots across the sky, content to picture the universe and the view from their backdoor. With a whore they were happy, with a friend they were content, with themselves they were abominably miserable and they would lie in bed and blank their mind to the loss of love, the hate for life and the death of the age of awareness. When hidden among the bright lights of the city, the meadows of the future, the comedies of the past, it is only then our mistakes are forgiven, and our duty to remember is forgotten, and we shall live in peace, among our brothers and sisters, lame but not wallowed as i make some perforations in a piece of paper.

written early 1970’s

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