Just Kind of Melancholy

February 2, 2010

there are moments through space and time
which are indelible
on my mind and
the sense of their arrival is as a shift of the universe
sideways
a slight jarring and then i know

it was yesterday
standing with friends
and a fresh pack of gum
and as i shared
i knew that i would never forget that moment
those people
and with
torrents of awe
sparking and
rebounding around me
i drew lines back

and when i was very young
i dreamed that i had a big brown cow
with a brass bell
and  a silver bucket
and i traveled the world
to give milk to all the hungry children
everywhere

and always
I remember the milky way
stars linked across the sky
misted over behind a civilized fear of the dark

and once i thought i was an alien child
as i would lay under the stars
looking for my people
to come back to me
clutching the dewy grass
arms stretched out
a sacrifice to the unknown

and then hitchhiking alone down a naked road
the straightest of roads
as far as the eye could see
the headlights like stars in the distance
i saw
a giant brown cow
standing alone
by the side of the road
and the mint
blowing in the breeze . . .

##

Enjoyed today February 2:
All afternoon with my students (the little ones) - and there was peace in the land -

Author's Remarks:  "Since I started composing and publishing music at the end of 2007, I had a little dream: A music fairytale, a story that evolves through music and has all these elements of an original fairytale: Fairies, knights, castles and -of course- a beautiful princess. Now, a couple of years later, this dream became true... Album starts with a remake of "Winter princess", one of my first published songs. Music trip continues, with a moon waltz and a fairy dance, to a forest with unicorns and a forgotten castle... After a battle with darkness knights, there is a king who returns home, giving his princess a message of love. At the end of this fairytale, there is an intro of Cinderella story. I preferred an intro instead of an ending, because, when a story ends, another one begins... I am thankful to JB-Anastasia for giving her voice to this Cinderella intro. However, "End of a story" is the end song of the fairytale, but not of the album. After a fairytale adventure, "Dreamland" is fine for relaxing... This is the second remake of an older song. I am also thankful to "The Copyright Group"  for allowing me to use at "Bless and glory" a part of Oscar Wilde's  "Vita nuova" poem, told so lyrical by actor Sean Barrett, recorded by Robert J. Nichol. You can also download full album as a single file at http://www.zero-project.gr"

I was walking up my dark road
facing an ebony sky with a trifle of a moon
peering bleakly through the silent clouds  . . .
as they drifted by . . . draping their glowing finery over his lonely face.
I trudged onward towards my lofty goal . . . up on the hill before me
When I happened to turn . . .
I saw the road behind me
turned silver from the gilded moon
and the iridescent sky
a cobalt  blue
with blushing traces of gentle dawn rising up to light my face. . .
##

 Music I Have Enjoyed This Past Weekend and Today (1 Feb):

Music from Magnatune.com: All albums recommended by my friend: 

Dr. J-P. Christopher Jackson, Ph.D.
I think he is trying to refine my musical tastes - thanks Christopher  - and there are more in my in-box!

 


    Hidden Sky by Jami Sieber

 


    Chameleon by Sulis

 


    Night Light by Vidia Wesenlund

        

 Author's Remarks: "This is my 12th self-produced album. It is an orchestral suite based on the idea of a visitor in a museum who, while walking through the painting showing not so much interest, gets stuck in front of a painting on a corner of which, the face of a devil starts looking at him.
The visitor feels like he is being "sucked" into the painting and a very strange and uncomfortable voyage begins.."

My Review: First the album cover - just scares the hell out of me - but given the topic - it should. I also think that this album lends itself well to a short video since the story is well outlined and the music so clearly defines itself.

The music is monumental and epic and quite addicting. I felt compelled to travel along with the 'visitor' as he experienced Hell. The strings in particular lent an air of awe-inspiring fear and apprehension, and the lightest of sounds was capable of making me flinch during this short album's journey. The balance of light and heavy was so conflicting that it just pounded on my senses and emotions.

The "Dance of Fallen Angels" was so exhausting to listen to . . . it painted such vivid pictures behind my eyes with its forceful dominating sounds and contrasting delicate tones; along with the empty spaces, tempo changes, and strange voices. It was extreme to say the least. Finally, I experienced despair during "Funeral" that I would ever be able to retract myself from this place. I don't think . . .

Author's Remarks: ""Experimental Evolution" is a story about a world not unlike ours. It begins with "Genesis," a piece about the origins of life. Over the ages ("Millennium Wind"), technology arises and purity is lost. We see this corruption portrayed by "The Wretched Harlequin." The darkness spreads and the inhabitants of the world slip into a false "Euphoria." In the end, however, goodness prevails, and everything culminates in a celebration of "Gaia," goddess of the Earth."

My Review: I know this album tells a story about a world from its conception to its rescue. But I just couldn't follow the story as I was so immersed in the beauty of the music. Maybe another go around after the first listen. I am in awe of this artist's conceptual expressions and outstanding creativity. Each piece had its own unique personality, narration and stand-out appeal. Overall, this is a most extraordinarily beautiful album, which carries you on the dynamic winds of creation in all its manifestations.

One of my favorite songs: "Fly Away" from the album Ad Liberatum - by Creix.  This is one song that sticks in my head and walks with me during my long hikes. I like it - it is very comforting to me.  

 The Hodgepodge of My Day (or my life grows better day by day)

isn't she beautiful
              with the ladybugs
                            in her hair -
"dude - That math is so easy."
      . . .      and the rainbow on the floor
is not easily kicked into tomorrow

that tree outside bends closer
                                and closer . . .
to see

Aren't they beautiful
                       with that sparkling joy on their faces . . .
they peer into my eyes
giving me such . . . " what are you guys up to now?"
and they laugh with such peals of purity
what is it . . . that heart of the naughty child
which is so appealing in their . . . silliness

who are these creatures
that they can have such grace

And the tree outside bends closer still
           to hear
laughter in the day
The secret sound to laughter
spells the end to hate and pain
And as a child writes a love note
                        to her teacher
the Angels enter the room

##

There must be enchantment in the day
in the
everyday . . .
to shine like the angels . . .
But over time . . .
I lost all of my magical dreams;
that awe,
when I walked
this way . . . so far away
. . . for
I went further than I had ever wanted
over the bridge to the island of regrets

one day I turned around
and all the magic was gone
dissolved in the river of time
dissipated
beyond redemption
my hands scrabbling for a last grasp
wet and dripping with the bitter waters of sorrow . .

and over time . . .
I forgot that the magic ever was
although
sometimes
when I look into the eyes of a child
I see the reflections of my dreams.

##

TODAY

Classics - Set I


What a sweet, peaceful sound that classical guitar is to my ears. Beautiful, natural, organically repairing the mechanically riven day. What joy. All the pieces you chose melded so well together as to remove the anxiety of the listener. These melodies of J. S. Bach, of course, are extraordinaire, but Frank shines as an outstanding player. Thanks for giving us such a gift, Frank.

Classics - Set II

Warm, golden sounds, permeated the room, flowing from the deep wells of the alluring acoustic guitar that Frank plays with a poet's heart. A sweet voice rises gently up from that instrument which sings so readily beneath his magical hands. These heart-felt, rich melodies never grew old to my ears as I listened the hours away, but became like a quiet evening of enchanting friendship, near a radiantly glowing fire, as I was enveloped by those golden sounds.





January 21, 2009 I Look Out My Window



Seeing beyond the horizon
determined clouds like flights of doves
glowing golden in the silver gray
fighting back Sol's colors.

The music of the sun's reprise blasting
birds from tree to tree
Shadows in the underneath
Shadows speaking words to me.

And then a child's crystal voice:
"Look -
I made heaven."



This small child, in my class, had created a design on the computer which included a castle, covered with the exact shade of gold from the sky and star bursts. He announced that he had made heaven which included all of  his favorite things. Another child asked, "Did you put plants in there?" And yes he did. What joy and what heaven in this place - all of my favorite things - all things so easy to grasp hold of.
All things so free.


Sometimes I want to capture everyone I see
believing that they must mean something profound to me.

See that man down there?
Yes, that tall man in the black hoodie and the white backpack,
crisp blue jeans outlining his long legs
his feet waffling back and forth
as he walks . . .
reluctant to go forward
yet not stepping back.
where-ever is he going?
perhaps its too far for him to see . . .
packed on his back is a burden too great
to bear along with
a heart ache
and a lump in his throat . . .
a dream in the very back of his head
that reminded him of his yesterdays
and is clouding his tomorrows

he walks a fine line
as he watches his feet
move without his desire
and little momentum . . .
but the
galaxies are opening up before him
as a starburst from a grain of sand.

##

More Old Stuff

4-8-93

Are you so totally obtuse
that you cannot recognize
                          my muse
The wrenching of the clouds
          produce only blaring horns
          and clashing cymbals
          a cacophony
          a call of anguish
          a sigh of regret
The rains whisper on
                        despairing ground
               and all of the sorrows
                        cannot be found
A yellow daffodil
Streams with rivulets of mud
               and sings its requiem
               in silence
      to its only hope
                       its dream
                       its sorrow
shedding brown tears
As it sinks below the slime


It dies
And yet to die
The obsidian wall of oblivion
the comfort of the womb
encloses
The peace - perhaps
              the joy of reunion.

##

4-9-93

Somewhere along deserted days

I lost my way

cast adrift

the frayed ends of the rope

hobbled beneath the murky sea

Lost on the endless tide

of hope and pain

Dreams and emptiness

The line of the horizon

An unbroken thread

of despair

And all the salt of the sea

speaks to me

of endless tears

streaming down

into the bottomless gulfs

Eternal depth on depth

So far beneath the rotting boards

of the raft so small

so frail

##

5-15-93

I long to kiss the hollows

                      of your bones

And dance with you

          in the morning

on the rolling tides

of sun waves

I long to swim in your

                       sudden smiles

And float on the

                         dreams in your

eyes flashing

I long to hold you in

                           the pit of my chest

And feel your warm

       breezes

Cool the ache in my heart

I long to touch you

                                  in all your fragile places

And drink deeply

                 from your cup

of flowing wine.

I long to hear your

            voice song

Speak to me in

                  velvet down   

and your laughter

like bird wings

Together we . . . kick

away the sands

along the pathways

to the deadly seas

and dodge

the serpent's thrust

against our alliance. . .

I long to hold you

in ambered embraces

flying through spaces

in a golden stone, perpetual

with pearls flashing deep.

##

Imagine this - I don't even remember who I was so in love with as to write such a poem. I'm sure I was broken hearted.  Life was so strewn with such hazards for me. Let's see, 1993 - college - Oh - I remember. . . Oh my . . . well - that was a bit steamy!


Here is a nice album I am listening to:



5-20-93

I run naked
through flying branches
leaves flap wetly
against bared breast
I run with no thoughts
              of tomorrow
              no gleanings
              of time past
I run barefoot
through forests of tempra
Deep green drips
thoughtfully
down my rebellious spine
I run with song spinning
                out of layers
                deeply
                undefined
I run lonely
Through resonating valleys
winds blow through me
denying my essence
I run with raining eyes
                 on the pathway
                 of me
                 I leave no trace.


##

  6-3-93

You __________________

you are raiding my heart

and daily

you shoot me dead

with the darts in your hands.

The rubber earth

beneath your feet

Propels you

beyond my reach ----

What are you?

That you can rip

so much of me

away in one look.

If you look

do you see?

What am I to you

that you take my offerings

and disappear

into a gray mist

so cavalier______

I cannot penetrate to you.

You___________________

you are the shadow

of my song

the mystery of my days

I paint you in the mornings

and when the sun goes

down

you are gone.

A connundrum

A wonder

Why do I love you? You______________

 a mere shell

around an essence

of my need.

You__________________

like the dew

on an emerald sea

you float away from me. . .

like the beating of a wing

in an empty empty sky . . .

a tear falls

and floods a universe

subliminal

to understanding

beyond a realm of hope

within a dream

and you

where are

You?________________

##

6-22-93

You surprised me today

You came and spoke to me

Thanking me for some

                little note

                I had left

                on your desk

My mind was on Spanish

And you called my name

I remember you

But, ethereal you

you are like a dream.

I dared to look

at your face

But it fades now

your smile

like the Cheshire Cat.

I try to call it back . . .

Your eyes flash dark

And bring a smile

              to my memories. . .

I love you

How can I not?

When you

Spoke to me today

You sat

and listened to my noise

You were there

Your face before mine

I could have reached

                      out

                           and

                                  touched you . . .

Why didn't I?

##

That day comes back so vividly to me. I had forgotten that love. How time slides things away from us . . . and rightly so . . . that was a painful time . . . because love hurts!   I have to confess that I am not putting in this blog most of those love poems.  I think the brain is a little damaged, as if from too much wine, when one is in love. Just one more about my lover__________

July 1993

Days have flowed

like blood

or clear spring water

singing as it rises

over mountain's ribs

And your face

Has been washed

by times rough cloth. . .

your edges have been

smudged

through the grinding

of passing crystals.

Although not invisible

to me

you have blurred.

The sound of your voice

is stilled.

I cannot bear the

thought

of your drifting

so far

from me.

How can I get you back?

##

Well, I remember that lover . . . passionate, but not long lasting . . . like the dew in the hot summer sun . . . quickly melting away . . . and leaving no trace.


This album is so relaxing and comforting. Really very good, another one of my old favorites at the bottom of the stack. I'm pulling them out for a re-listen.



July 17, 1993


Don't take away my voice
O subtle day.
You leap at me from
                    behind kind clouds;
The kind that stay and stay.

Don't take away my song
O slippery sun.
And tear the breath
                    from my troubled veins
On the road where I am from.


Don't take away my tears
O fading star.
You reflect your face
                     on the mirror of my eyes
When I long to be where you are.

Don't wash away my sweat
O falling rain
You kiss against my cheeks
                      with gentle patting paws
Then rip away the furrows of
                                       my pain.

Don't take away my love
O beautiful soul
You touch the central pulse of me
                      with the breezes of your breath
And I melt into your mold.


##

7 - 15 - 93

They tell me

I'm doing O.K. . . . .

That's what they tell me

But I find

Deep in the canyons

of my mind

A flowering bush

A sparkling, flinging

                                   stars into the darkness

                        bush

My creation

sending light

Where no light was

sending might

into the night

No need to run

I'm doing O.K. . . . . .

But the sparks

get in the way

And everywhere I go

I let them show.

##

7-18-93

_________i hate tests

your test was hard

I needed the capacious

memory of a capricious

camel

Which

of course I do not have.

Names escape me . . . . . they are

Ants running, fleeing

the flood

bearing away

the important stuff

the little white sacks

of gene material

the memories

of the tribe

The heart and soul

of the community

slips away

leaving empty

echoing

caverns

within which

there is small hope . . . 

and a small soul

stumbles 

her empty skull in her hands

i_______________

##

July 1993

It has been so long

Since the clouds

broke

and danced across

             the mountains

I haven't heard 

             the mountains

sing

      the dance of the comet

And the moon sighs

when she sees the gray.

She longs to see

her reflection

in my eyes.

She longs to find me

and hold me

once more in her arms.

It has been so long

Since the clouds

danced to the song

the mountains sing

about a comet

long ago

Who fell to earth

and couldn't rise

She sank in agony

her silver scattering

into the broken brooks

And all the clouds convene

to keep her there

Deep in the

Mountain's valley

where the mountain's

waters

wash her gently.

But she cries

for the moon sighs

when she sees the gray.

Her longing for me

grows stronger

every day

as I long

for love.

And the mountain sings

to her valley

where the comet

 lives

and her scattered silver.

##

Well, I think I was on hash with that one. Pretty bad but I like the story so it goes here and maybe will improve, like wine, with age or . . . into vinegar.

 And - well since you asked so nicely - one or two more love poems - will it never stop? Oh - those were the days!

July 1993

Your eyes are the sun spots

which change the direction

of my storms

And I blow in the dark

a gentle breeze

between your breasts

A sigh

A gentle smile . . .

from you

And I robe you

In atmospheres of blue black

And I scatter the stars

between your thighs . . .

I touch your heart

And you give me

an eternity . . .

##

7-29-93

I saw you today

From far away

So I turned away

But the sight of you

Burned into my retina

and you stayed

one inch tall

forever in the green

walking up the hill

with that serious look

of yours . . .

But vulnerable

like best crystal.

And I longed for you

All over again

as if I could

own you

as if I could

hope

to have

even one tiny

piece 

of you.

##

Embarrassingly enough there are stacks of this stuff.  It seems that I couldn't shut up. To bad so many of them are so graphic - I simply cannot put them in a public place - for innocent eyes to wander over.

There once was a time

When I believed

All my dreams would

                        come true.

When was that time?

And why has it drifted

                        away?

I know now that

Nothing I treasure

                        is here to stay.

I see the mold

I see the rust

I see my dreams

          diminished by dust

Though not hopelessly

         for I still dream

Childhood long gone

Fresh visions diminished

A harsh light shines

On life's last mysteries

And a cry swirls in

           the fusion's storm

A cry for what the future

          carries. . .

In the end it is all

                        the same

                        the same

Doomed to repeat

The same mistakes

And we wonder

Why we cannot hear

               cannot see

And the dreams

                evolve

And become . . .

               just dreams.

## 

And that is all for tonight!