Don't let go

All the dust that has collected in me
will be washed away
sometime...
and all the bastards
who would not listen
when I tried to tell the time
will hear me

You got to give everything you've got
before you give up and give in to rot
but there is a lesson in the wilderness
temptation is an evil mistress

will you hear me
when I try to tell you the time
will you listen to me
when I am spending my last dime
drop it on you
I am calling
will the bastards remember
when I am fallen

Babe, I am tired
but I am so damn wired
like a cable connection
lost in reflection
what do I see in me on the other side

well, I'm hiding
the sun is out
and its just blinding.
I cower behind these rocks
for a little while...
you feel like you're spent
while other's find you magnificent

I'm trying to let go
I'm trying to let the real me show
in this crazy race
where only rats win
I don't want either of us to give in
I believe...

Another War - another way forward....

I wanted to come back from my self imposed break with something extraordinary and breathtaking but I'm afraid-well not afraid but less than thrilled-that it hasn't been exactly a sea change. I think I have put some of the pieces in place to move forward and some other things are in motion for positive changes ahead.

and of course there's always some poetry.
--------------------
I grabbed my phone
lifted if off the glass orchid shelf
I sensed the world was falling apart
or maybe it twas the water on my face
Left over from the battle yesterday
another set of tears
from another war

that came back from the darkened sea
right back from the left in pieces
near apartments on the beach.
conch shells whistled for the dying
sailors buried beneath the surf
Soliders from the last
conversational exploration...
resting in the earth.

Blog Haitus

I'm outta here until further notice.

Darkness in the dust rising from the trees at night

Glittering like a pinball machine,
like silver surfing on the water
when you're looking up at the skies.
disintegrating atoms exploding in mercury.

overhead....dreams; fluid, moving, swirling.

More dreams...pianos, petals, metal in synergy.
Watching the seasons curl..
watching the back of my eyes...
Azure blue velvet gasses steaming.
like hail on a tin roof streaking by,
Like flaming swords,
like love at the end of the world...

I don't know how or what it is...

But I'll be there

When the only reaction
is no reaction
no satisfaction
or reasonable suggestion,
just open mouths,
and the voids...

Got to break away
from the frozen ice
clinging to my life
announce myself
in someone else's eyes
not taking shots
at close range targets
like those firing ranges
from so long ago.

in the last few notes
from the evening nocturne
where darkness leaks
from the holes in the floor
replacing the light
with the blackness
that hides inside
the holes in my mind
where I turn the key
and close the door.

Is there a pill
that can make one turn back
or at least turn away from
the bad things we sometimes
drift through and into?
like no plans existed,
or were somehow erased.
a veil was lowered,
not lifted
over oceans of shards
glissening like razors
exploding in the apocalypse...

Healing

It just goes on and on....

Seriously, the last two months have been too chaotic to try and glean anything from worth mentioning twice in the same breath. Life has continued, I am still alive and my fingers, with some remaining sensitivity, have healed up pretty well. I will start writing again in a few days. Lots is on the horizon. So much potential...its time to realise some of it this year. A new president, a new dawn, another chance to find bliss.

Damn, Damn, Damn!!!

Ok, the short version of this story is that I have cut the tip of my right ring and middle finger off. I was cutting some tile with a razor knife and while going over the middle of the cut I shifted my weight-probably to get leverage on the cut. In the process of which I edged my right ever forward into the path of the cut. I realized in about 1 second I had seriously cut myself when the blood was running down my hand. I looked at the back side from about 2 feet away at waist height. It looked fine until I flipped it over. At that moment a tiny capillary surged and a tiny squirt of blood gushed out of the end of the ring finger, or at least what was still there.

Oops. Oh...man...this is really bad Steve. what did you do?

so here's what's now missing(persons) shown in superimposed red.



damn. $900 down. the. drain. no more keyboards for a while, or guitar. ack....

My finger tips are in some garbage can(no point in trying to re-attach them as there's not enough tissue. At the hospital, thankfully via my own pressue. the rest is blur. I will write more when I find out more.

Creativity of the Modern Age

Its coming soon, and so is this.



There a show and a book on the way too! Really.

Sigur Ros

I went to see sigur ros this Friday with my best friend JD and his squeeze Kirsten at the Greek Theatre in Berkeley. They did not disappoint. All the best bits from the last 4 albums including the new album and one track from the recent split live/studio eps as well. Sinful. Stretching out from where we sat was this spectacular view of the Bay Bridge, and behind it San Francisco, my once and future home(again). This is by far the most cerebral show I have seen in a while. Rufus Wainright was more about stage and craft and Matmos was bizarre and experimental. This was altogether different and wonderful. A magical evening capped by the the most well timed rainstorm I have ever been caught in. Pizza, veggie burgers, jelly beans and two great friends walking in the warm rain. I met up with my friend Matthew while we waited at B.A.R.T. He had also been at the show and we got to catch up and trade stories. Always the music fan, we swapped recent purchases. He was also getting over a recent flu and promised to hang out soon. We parted in the city and I went on my way back to Mark's place. That's another one for the peak experience catagory.

Robyn dipped his hand into the elixer, swishing it around with his hand and said "this is what we've got and I know your name." before disappearing down the other side of the hill wearing a summer hat and not much else. he clutched a string bow and fiddle under one arm, going to-I-have-no-idea-where.

Phases of The Moon (flowers for Mark)

if there was doubt
and uncertainty
and fire where I rest,
then might I reach
for a piano
or the phases of the moon
for the answers
(they are elusive)
while I relearn to stand.
my species has been pinned and mounted
in a box that's been lost
somewhere at the top of the world.

Words to describe these things
feel awkward, weak and overpowered.
I struggle for the lesson
to teach the invisible,
to embrace the negative space
inside you.
Like water dripping from a
from a leaf into a lake,
from a causeway unto the state at play
highway; washing all the
oil and blood away.

he pressed on...
he pressed on...
he pressed on without you.

That I wanted to kiss,
that I wanted to be,
to eat, to be inside
and outside you.
To find someone
Who will not be afraid,
stand against staid,
unfettered by the light
of missed yesterdays.



along for the ride

jumble and thud

like you know
when you look down
the remote chance
of finding love
falls from your hand
and to the ground...

Its a luxury
that you find these days
haunted steps to haunted places
a place to lay my pillow
a constant in red
a home to hear when the voices come
and try to bash my head.

the sky is dreaming as I walk by
the vaguest shadows melt
into the darkness
and I don't ask why...

Its a luxury you find these days
the paint peels
the water drips
Which one of these ship
did you get lost on?

Sleep walking on the ballustrade
your balance is the only thing
that plays
your walking and talking
and sleeping and strolling
over our heads where myths
and tears are blocking my harmony...

Automobiles In Perspex

Fidelity

well, we've never spoken of love
and with that I am okay.
For me the things
that used to mean safety
all at once begun to change.
I used to think I needed
my life to be a certain way.
But all things change,
As I have changed.
I won't be that way again.
I used to hold stones in my heart
for the time I spent away.
Propping up people,
just trying to maintain,
fighting to heal others
while ignoring my own pain.
But if there's one thing I have learned,
Something I have taken from it all.
Its that you can't protect your heart
from sadness or limp along
Laughing while others watch you fall.
Its a real life when you realize
No plan will ever catch the man.
You got to pick up what you need
Learn to march on again.

Sounds-Like

Silvery metal spikes
pierced the darkness
of an unlit mind.
And in blackness,
Where all thought forms
A hand reached out and down.
Hands made of silver
and hands made of fire.
Disappearing over and over
like silver arrows in a stream,
like brushstrokes that paint away
the years of confusion
and lost desire.
demons banished to limbo,
defeated by 10,000 guitar notes...
or one Durutti Column solo.

Oblique Viewpoint

Glimpse

just a glimpse
is all that i'd like
a picture of all the faces,
of all the different people
other people want me to be
wish me to be,
wish that I wasn't...
and isn't it funny?
that I...wish I could be...
all those different people...
as long as As it meant
I didn't have to be me.
just one glimpse
Of the man
who's always on top of things
who's never lonely
who is secure in his place
and universally satisfying
if there is such a thing
who ignores the voices
when they come calling
in a life spent beguilled
full of false starts
and drifting...

Will I look into your eyes
and know your face when I meet you
at the end of time?
In the mirror of reverses
we'll see each other,
that man and I.
All the questions will be answered.
in the palace of the dark swords,
where expectations die off
like wilting leaves in july's hot wind
and my hand in your hand....
Its just a glimpse...
that's all we have.

Where I Stand

Ship Of Fools

I pulled on my boots.
I looked down
and a thousand miles below
my feet were coral beds
awash in fish
and endless
blue.

The Ground Beneath me(haystacks for dead french painters)

When it will give way
to the remaining days
to all the strands of hay
outside in a field somewhere

we were running around
time cast aside
tree fruit ripening
but we're dying on the vine.

Its been a long time
out here
in these fields.
where fallow and formless
the days became aimless
and they were mine.

one line merges
into the next
they all connect themselves
somewhere where you and the pen
break up and fall apart.
You tell it your secrets
reveal yourself
in art
but you reveal yourself
no matter how
because that's the way you are.

Post 911 National Identity?

Its all here. You don't even know it yet.