Thursday, January 28, 2010

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
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

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"

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 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
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
when I look into the eyes of a child
I see the reflections of my dreams.




Thursday, January 21, 2010



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.


Saturday, January 16, 2010

More Old Stuff


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
The peace - perhaps
              the joy of reunion.



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



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
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:



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
down my rebellious spine
I run with song spinning
                out of layers
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.



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 are the shadow
of my song
the mystery of my days
I paint you in the mornings
and when the sun goes
you are gone.
A connundrum
A wonder
Why do I love you? You______________
 a mere shell
around an essence
of my need.
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
to understanding
beyond a realm of hope
within a dream
and you
where are



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
                                  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
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
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
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.

_________i hate tests

your test was hard
I needed the capacious
memory of a capricious

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
within which
there is small hope . . . 
and a small soul
her empty skull in her hands


July 1993

It has been so long
Since the clouds
and danced across
             the mountains
I haven't heard 
             the mountains
      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
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
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 . . .



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
to have
even one tiny
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
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
And become . . .
               just dreams.


And that is all for tonight!