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Track 4 of "Cutting Edge Nonsense"
Alas..the title cut.That deep bass rumble you first hear? That would be a Tibetan Singing Bowl.I wanted a tribal feeling for this piece.
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They without honor
Rule iron-fisted, never
Earning our respect.
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Poor Mxyzptlk!
Never pulled one over on
Superman for long.
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Memory creates
A world from possible pasts.
Soon it's gone again.
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New swallow's lessons:
"Before you learn how to crawl,
you must learn to fly."
I learned after writing this that swallows DO actually crawl around in the nest before they take the plunge. Oh well. You learn something new every day.
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First day of April:
I have played so many tricks.
Who is the fool now?
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Pungent aroma,
Skunk versus car, skunk loses.
Mommy won't come home.
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Raking on Sunday:
Leaves observe no one's Sabbath;
Neither, then, shall I.
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Re-recording of an old song I'd originally written for an even older band, Buckle. I think Buckle's been done now for almost eighteen years, so it may be safe to dust this off now and expose it to light again.
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Traffic in Eastern Massachusetts blows. Just saying.
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The 15th and final song written for RPM and FAWM. Fittingly the lyric is about the end of the process... even though there was still a ton left to do when I came up with it. I guess I was feeling optimistic, which is seriously unusual for me.
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"O give thanks unto the LORD, for he is good:
for his mercy endureth for ever. Let the redeemed of the LORD say so" Psalm 107:1-2
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The homophobic Reverend was embroiled in a homosexual sex and crystal meth scandal in 2006. This was my rally song for him. I was hoping he would preach on why it is not bad to be gay. INstead he went and got reprogrammed.
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A friend told me about this experience. I cannot name names but he insisted it was a true story. The "Phil" mentioned is not retired Senator from Texas "Phil Graham," I don't care what he says, he was not there: the evidence is conclusive.
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After a brief hiatus out in the weeds, I found myself back on my own course, but what to do if the force knocks me off my horse and breaks the resolve of my frame to sustain?
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A true story from a rough week. The window into the soul of a man really does run through the contents of his stomach.
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I grew up in Redding, California. That part of Northern California is more like Alabama than it is San Francisco. Hence, it could be called "Calibama."
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Whenever I am at a loss for words and I'm just not sure what to say, I think about how control is an illusion and I say "Ya-ta-hey."
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Only the people with problems call after the decent have gone to sleep...
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