Written, Arranged, Performed, and Produced by Kyle Bolan
Art by Kyle Bolan

Slivered Shadow

lastmisstakennevercomeback

Think this is the final version. I will be updating and refining it.

Please feel free to leave a comment.

Exiled

Debonair angle - 28-2-2025

Deep emotions!

A litte song about Flannery O'Connor, American novelist and short story writer who died in 1964
age 39 from Lupus, with the last 10 years of her life becoming increasingly incapacitated by her illness  
.. despite her suffering she continued her craft at the highest level..
There was a movie recently released called Wildcat about her and Ms O'Connor was portrayed by Maya Hawke
I have not seen the film but I took the sound clips in the song from the trailer....don't tell.....

Hey Flannery

Hey Flannery, gone undercover 
Biding your time, country livin’ with your mother 
In that little room, there's a place for the lame and the blind  
Takes a life to discover a good man is hard to find      

Hey Flannery, limping to salvation           
Body betrayed, you write your revelation 
In that little world, you've found a place for the damned and the divine                           
Takes a lifetime to discover a good man is hard to find   

Create him                                       
Erase him                                             
Lover or Liar, he wanders the land     
Embrace him                                            
Forsake him                             
Up on the cross, they don't understand   
The path to grace, a gunshot through the pines  
It's killing time                                   

Hey Flannery, this world is turning   
Books they be banning and forests they be burning 
Your typewriter sings the musings of your mind      
Takes a lifetime to discover a good man is hard to find   

Preach or plead                                      
We've lost our way                                   
Gone off the road                                  
This sunny day                                        
There's a meanness in the world             
Where dark meets light                             
Although we try to run from it                    
It's two steps faster when we slip          
Our fall from grace, the bodies left behind

                        
Hey Flannery, your sisters and your brothers  
Marching up to heaven after hurting one another 
The road to redemption around your little heart it winds  
Takes a lifetime to discover a good man is hard to find 
Takes a life to discover a good man is hard to find
Takes a life to discover that a good man is hard to find








A Good Man Is Hard To Find (Hey Flannery)

method: vst, mainly, and balabolka TTS - until Jeff plucked his guitar into that magic pedal .... I had to dumb the upload down from wav to mp3 to make soundcloud accept it.

narration: you might be familiar with the lyrics - yes, this is the very poem you have heard on Hakan's Shuffle in a different setting ;-)

image: copyright jo richter (using elements photographed on a theatre in Budapest in 2009)

Poem / copyright Jeff Gardiner and jo richter:

in the nick of time
he gave in to dissent
for the mute perceptive mime
manically made him raise his head and unmaimed hand in mine

praise the unerring rebellion
in subconsentious unison
the empty shells of every single silly little thing
ahh, the knell, the bells, fashioned from our fathers’ coral vaults

selling out, shelling round, all around in disarray
vainly making everybody wane and wade into the fray
with withered, bamboo-watered canes - - - fracking shist
where our homes are still purported to exist

while scattered scraps of all things past, scantily, scantily clad,
protrude and flutter in the wind, strained and restrained by the net
of pleasant pleas - and subltleties are colors bright and crude -
watch the Mad Hatter's stint unwind in minor keys -
i thought that that - that hat that sat so squat- was you

at the academy of sovereignty
where massive piles of bones and crows
dominate the dark demeanor of the distant
tears of laughter, tears of loudly lovin’ laughter, that's exactly what we're after

in the purple land of diffidence
buying purple brands of pale deliverance
in the hidden forgotten region, religion
where forgetting – like neglecting - is an optional behavior
and of course, everybody's carcass, corpse keeps looking for a savior

down by the trodden, the unsavoury sovereign shouted
raw with the rotten game of galactic gallows and thrones
ah the one and only poet of starvation
standing in the market of used emotion

endless aisles, end base piles of sadness
masters mean and dirty and their slaves
bargain bins of binary longing, belonging, unrequited love
there’s a sale on betrayal - two for a dollar and three for none

thought i saw a broken bit of joy that once belonged to me
Though when i had it, it was absolutely free
Now they're askin’ fifty, literally frivolous dollars--

mother of deception of the self
see me on my knees, subordinate
to her immaculate calamity
that has transactional realities cooperate
under towers dark with blinded blinds
of my infantile infinity--

i asked my shadow: would she follow me
like a puppy with a crush, herself a pet invertebrate,
to inclinations more persian, more parisian than her will or mine
where i might find a package deal on Love -

on the moon, it read in slowly moving neon letters -
shadows neither show nor speak concerning primal matters!
no, said I, shadows squall and squeal and squeak

drinking gin on the rocks is not that bad at all
since it became impossible to find an Avacado
or my favorite alcohol
just don't answer when she fails to call-

kung tze in the subway car

Kung Tze in the Subway Car - with stonerjazz

A soothing ambient journey filled with calm atmospheres, gentle textures, and emotional depth. Perfect for relaxation, focus, and reflection.

Listen on Spotify

Memories We Forgot To Keep (Slowed)

"Shipley’s claustrophobic prose sweats and mutters in an 
ecstatic delirium of isolation, the embodied mind locked 
inside its own system, a synthetic cosmos where perception 
and language mutate into a self-writing, self-destructive 
protocol. Siratori’s “void topology” maps that fever as a 
biospiritual, machinic womb where philosophy, eros, and 
parasitology fuse into recursion. Together, their texts pursue 
compulsive analysis from opposing coordinates, one visceral 
and the other structural, until confession and theory form a 
Möbius strip of nausea and reﬂection, a self-metabolising 
hybrid organism. Inside this sealed inﬁnity, thought 
corrodes into revelation, cognition disperses through a 
techno-mediated wormhole sustained by excess, and the void 
asserts itself as boundless possibility. Dear Void is both 
eruption and contagion, a luminous collapse where thought 
and ﬂesh exchange places, a poetics of decay in which the 
posthuman body persistently rewrites itself against the 
horror of existence and the horizon of sense.” 
- Zoetica Ebb, 
Gary J. Shipley / Kenji Siratori.
“Dear Void”  
_-_
@unsampled

Dear Void,

Hiiii! This time I wanted to discover new dimensions with my music (especially with drums)! I hope you love it!! This is always a prod track with ambient and cinematic atmosphere. 
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ciaooo! Questa volta ho voluto esplorare nuove dimensioni con la mia musica (soprattutto con la pattern delle drums)! Spero vi piaccia! Questa è semore una prod track con atmosfere ambient e cinematografiche.

Drowning

Spitfire Audio - British Drama Toolkit - Ensembles + Main

Deep emotions!

Carlos Alberto Bergmann

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