A long sonorous crescendo of sound.

Straight up vocal nonsense.

This one's for David.

Broken, stumbling, beat up, a bit detuned. Appropriate.

Canto Nuevo durante comunidad 8 de Marzo 2012.

this was written by myself at age 15 in 1975. never ever did the whole version back in the day, thought i would do it once and for all. 21.

a song about an old flame that just won't burn out. it's a ballad of sorts, with a harder ending. i did this in about 7 hours. in the middle section i am playing guitar without a pick for the first time in a recording (big deal hey?)

Ach new! It's a fine wee beasty.

recorded live in the living room on the ukelele. an anti war song and tribute to the lost. two minutes silence that's all they get a paragraph in the daily rag their lives before them their every dream all wiped out in just one…

And a swingin' night was had by all.

Ukranian Minor scale ftw!

Get off my back, you Sad waste of human flesh, I Really despise you.

I put locking tuners and flat wound chrome strings on my 17 edo axe. Oh and I quieted the hum quite a bit. There will be more coming. Been a busy week - I think this is the first music I've made all week. I'm outta practice. A whirl with the whammy…

Jo[h]n was not malign-- He just didn't give a shit Whose life he fucked up. Poor Jo[h]n, just a pawn, Revenge his favorite dish, Always served ice cold.

Instrumental

Mark Jackson, bully, Fired many without cause. Would Daddy approve?

Backwards Yoda speaks: English his first language not. Use the Force he must!

Negotiating Aggressively, the Jedi Eschews violence.

God loves SUVs And shit-kickin' country songs. Guns, guts, and glory.

Misbehaving Dems, Tax and spend without an end. What would Jesus do?

How soon we forget: Past leaders acted the same As today's leaders.

Ayn Rand, an author? Tiresome conservative Drivel I ignore!

Spare. Eternal Glass. Always, only glass.

Just above five leaves, Trim the dead blossoms often. Watch out for the thorns!

The National Parks: America's Best Idea, Ken Burns directed.

Muir first explored, Then saved our first national Park, Yosemite!

Many haiku float Around, about this full head-- Only one survives.

Regretting the day A confused phlebotomist Mislabeled my tube.

They without honor Rule iron-fisted, never Knowing our respect.

Two stones sit sleeping; Millennia pass quickly. What are the dreaming?

There's a small hole in (About the size of Tolstoy) My education.

We spend our lives Bathing in chemical soup; How does Mother feel?

Trouble finds us all. Misfortune cannot be dodged. Karma seeks us out.

Words, what do they mean? Of time, mountains, and rivers Jon sings abstractly.

I've grown quite adept At preventing severe falls. Balance: my good friend.

Instrumental

Summers at the Lake: A teenage requirement. I seldom partook.

Ghost in the machine, Patterns from the soulless beast, Speaking unto us.

Is the really art? My muse cannot tell for sure; All the same to her.

Piltdown Man, a hoax? Don't buy it. He is alive In our midst today. Piltdown Man arrives In a black stretch limousine And grey flannel suit Piltdown Man survives (Anthropologists agree), Thwarts those who say "nay." Piltdown buys and sells…

Yesterday, today, Tomorrow, all illusions: Fractured bits of NOW.

Nothing matters more Than nothing, all adrift in A vast, endless void. A little ditty for the dark matter enthusiasts among you . . .

Time is relative. So, also, is space, says Al. Spacetime, your cousin. (Yep, you caught me--I said "time/space." It will be fixed.)

Instrumental

In fire or ice? How will the universe end? It ain't over yet!

This is not a haiku, Though at first you may think it is. The poet enjoys your confusion.

RPM Challenge: Twenty eight (nine) days to record Your next masterpiece!