How Much Time?

31 Aug

How Much Time? 

 
How Much Time? 

our first kiss stole my heart

the second body and soul

I wish I could undo you

replace the worn out heart,

refill the old soul’s hole

And reset the broken bones
I’d build my world, my world baby, a world around you

My streets, my home, my

Wear, tear and mileage

Spraying ether down my intake

Praise Odin and Floki

Praise the very Gates of Valhalla
I’ll ride my Iron Horse West

Upon Tatonka and/or even crawl
No more headaches

No more

Primal screams off the walls of my skull

No more

Ravens 

No more time
I can’t stand still

   Just the gunshot echoing down the Valley

Cowering in a corner, eating paint chips in the dark
That is some weird shit

 

Why do we write, paint, make music, create?

18 Aug

┬áKeith Richards once said the writer has a blank page, the painter, the blank canvas, and he as the musician has silence as his palette. Michelangelo said he saw the angel in the stone and set it free. Once I heard a NASCAR sports announcer describe a race car as a sixteen valve wind instrument. In goes the good air out goes the bad. A Screamin’ Demon!!!

Life Is Too Short

22 Jul

These are some quick notes about my dreams last night

I was assigned by my much disliked high school to collect objects and information about the American Civil War. Oddly enough the setting of the dream was the time period right after the war had just ended. I trekked down thru Virginia to Georgia via the Shenandoah Valley towards Atlanta then proceeded northward along the Southern Coast of the United States. Everywhere were burned, bombed out skeletal structures. Railroads destroyed. I collected artifacts and information for my school report as locals struggled to deal with the devastation amongst the rubble. All was devastation. I was starting to experience extreme anxiety as I began to realize it would be almost impossible to return to my school on time because there was no transportation that could provide me a way to return to NYC other than my own two legs.

Upon my arrival to school I was inundated with more school work than I could ever hope to achieve on time. Being a straight A student, obsessed with grades I began to panic. I argued that I could not possibly meet their deadlines. They would not budge. I then did something I never did as a high schooler. I said to them that I would rather be a homeless man with my guitar on the streets than deal with their impossible expectations. “Life is too short,”I exclaimed,”fuck off!” I felt a sudden weight lifted off of my soul. If only I had said this in 1975. Is it too late? I awoke sad and angry at myself for my inability to have realized this then. Now disabled with failed back syndrome it may indeed be too late.

Standing At The Crossroads

6 Jul

Standing At The Crossroads.

Can’t you feel the Heat?

6 Jul

My woman is mine

she is as sweet as she is kind

yellow haired shield-maiden

My heart beats for you

My soul is yours

As long as the Gods favor us

Let us dance, Valhalla

Let us dance, Valhalla

“witness to the death of a generation”

6 Jul

Image

“Half-a-million strong”…No I am not a hippie, but of a next generation who would loose also that which is instinct to man. Which means only too well that you as a reader must look into the camera smile and say it is my time when you look at your watch or sundial as may be the case…while you glance at this page wondering “Shit . Do I have to read this crap for school?” Ain’t no cliff-notes on this shit coming at you cause you just bought the ticket…and we know all too well what that means no don’t we? Unless of course this column winds up in some sleaze book stuffed down a teenagers trousers. Or mashed up between Betty and Veronica.

My Musical Goals

5 Jul

When I turned 50 back in 2011, I took stock of myself. “What (given that my disabilities impede any sort of a day to day reliable schedule) do I want to accomplish in ten years?” There is so much to learn that I needed to find a focus point. I’ve managed many situations in my life. I’ve survived.

My biggest difficulty is allowing myself to be happy. The idea that it is ok to feel happy and content is foreign, an unknown sustainable sensation.

The only constant in my life has been music. I would like to give something back to the music.