This song is about losing my wonderful big brother when I was a young man. He bought me 'The White Fender Strat' and said quietly through his smile "No excuses now...". Thanks forever bro, this is for you as always.
 
The Valuable Friends:
@janinelevinson: The Queen of Roll, Rock and Soul on the Second Mic
@rick-4-1: Mr Tour Pro on Very Cool Drums
@phil-mcwalter: The Other Stuff


SMOKE

Growing up, looking up
I have never had my toast buttered on both sides
I started crying the day 
I watched my father clearing the overgrown weeds at the top of the garden and realised 
And realised
That wasn’t what he was doing
Ooh no

It was a still day 
So still
It was a still life
And the smell of the smoke never quite left our clothes
Five years
And another
Five years

There was a silence 
Where my beautiful dead brother still lived between us 
And that quietness wasn’t burned with the weeds

It was a still day
It was a still life 
So still
And the smell of the smoke never quite left our clothes
Five years
Another
Five years

Digging the sod in Donegal 
Praying for muscle, bunched like a ball 
Sweat and pride loved standing tall 
Anticipating 
Eye-watering 
Peat-stove fire 
That would 
Warm 
Cook 
And flavour our bones

It was a still day 
Still day
It was a still life 
Still life
And the smell of the smoke never quite left our clothes

Another
Five years
And another
Five years...

Five years
Tick tock
Five years
My father lost his sense of smell and his pulse in cenotaph central heating
Five years
And my orphaned senses 
Five years
Still feel that fire

And smell that smoke...

© July 2021 - Phil McWalter

Image: 'Peasant Burning Weeds' 1883 Van Gogh

Spotify

Smoke

PANDEMIC - Text by Flavio Pozzaglio

I walk around hide my face
From the looks and I guess who you are

Eyes that seek each other
To understand what is wrong now

I draw a circle around now I'm in my space
Nothing must invade my field
but i feel lonely and tired i live only online

Papapa Pandemic parara pa pa papapapa

It does not go away

Pararapapapapapapa

(Marimba only)

I draw a circle around now I'm in my space
Nothing must invade my field
but i feel lonely and tired i live only online

Papapa Pandemic parara pa pa papapapa

It does not go away

Pararapapapapapapa

Papapa Pandemic parara pa pa papapapa

It does not go away

Pararapapapapapapa



PANDEMIA - Testo di Flavio Pozzaglio

Giro in giro nascondo il mio volto
Dagli sguardi e immagino chi sei

Occhi che si cercano
Per capire ciò che ora non va

Traccio un cerchio attorno ora sono nel mio spazio
Nulla deve invadere il mio campo 
ma mi sento solo e stanco vivo solo on-line

Papapa Pandemia parara pa pa papapapa

Non va via

Pararapapapapapapa

(Solo Marimba)

Traccio un cerchio attorno ora sono nel mio spazio
Nulla deve invadere il mio campo 
ma mi sento solo e stanco vivo solo on-line

Papapa Pandemia parara pa pa papapapa

Non va via

Pararapapapapapapa

Papapa Pandemia parara pa pa papapapa

Non va via

Pararapapapapapapa


Dep 27 febb 2021

Pandemia

PANDEMIA

Autumn Dream

Poem: by Emily Dickinson (Hope. from 1862)
Hope is so beautifully described in Emily Dickinson's poem. Hope, like a fragile bird, or like a storm. The hope we carry within us.
Piano , keys, and instrumental composition: Yann Kifer @annkifer
Vocal, vocal composition and photo: Oddrun Eikli
Thank you so much for this JOY Yann. Thank you from my heart.

Emily Elizabeth Dickinson (10. desember 1830- 15. mai 1886)

“Hope” is the thing with feathers -
That perches in the soul -
And sings the tune without the words -
And never stops - at all -

And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -
And sore must be the storm -
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm -

I’ve heard it in the chillest land -
And on the strangest Sea -
Yet - never - in Extremity,
It asked a crumb - of me.

'"Hope" is the thing with feathers is one of the best known of Emily Dickinson's poems. An extended metaphor, it likens the concept of hope to a feathered bird that is permanently perched in the soul of every human. There it sings, never stopping in its quest to inspire.

Emily Dickinson wrote this poem in 1862, a prolific year for her poetry, one of nearly 1,800 poems she penned during her lifetime. Only seven of these were published while she was still alive. Her sister, Lavinia, collected and helped publish all of her poems after Emily's death in 1886.

Her poetry was highly original but was dismissed or simply misunderstood when she sent her work out for appraisal or publication. It was only after she had passed away and her poems circulated more widely that critics began to appreciate her genius.

Hope Is The Thing With Feathers. Yann Kifer and Oddrun Eikli.

fantastic alien revival

This year, I enjoyed various books,movies,music,comics,anime and other entertainment.
I did various adventures there.
If someone is entering my music and adventuring that world,that's a very nice thing.

The Book

Solitude

Nonsense, just nonsense! Hopefully, the listener will feel like someone kicked down their door, rants for 3 minutes, and then leaves. 

Lyrics:
Riding my bicycle
I was 8 years old
Riding to the Biblioteca
What the heck does that get ya?

Hey! Speak up asher bard
They say your miseries are symphonies
Hey, what are you writing in that notebook?
You know I say: I'm a poet
But, I make my own hours
That's how you know that you really own it
That's how you know that you've really made it
I've been playing a fool for so long
But I will probably do it again
If you insist
Hey, c'mon, everyone
Give it up for the band!
I've been  trespassing on salvation
I've been speaking in binary code
I'm an observer in slo-mo

Let's disseminate the movie of my life
Cue the split screen
It's like some kind of cosmic universe blooper reel
I'm trying to document the way that we feel
It's 3 AM in the rain
And I'm staring at myself
It's 3 AM in the rain
Can you not see yourself?
Oh, let's give it up
Give it up for the band!

Let those good vibes shine!

I've been thinking about the matter
And the anti-matter
I've got some kind of Dostoevsky skin disease (cough)
You know what I mean?
I've got the aftershave and undertones
The poet's got the loneliest nose
For the way things go

The biblioteca, what the heck will that get ya?

Good Vibes

JE N’AI PAS DE MESSAGE
JE N’AI RIEN À VOUS DIRE
PAS DE MAUVAIS PRÉSAGE
NI DE RÊVE D’EMPIRE

MOI J’ÉCOUTE LE COUCOU
LE SOIR AU FOND DES BOIS
JE DANSE AVEC LES FOUS 
ET LES SINGES AUX ABOIS

ET JE FAIS LE MÉNAGE 
JE PLACE EN L’AVENIR
DES ESPOIRS PLUS SAGES
ET DES CRÉTINS MOINS PIRE

ET J’ÉCOUTE LE COUCOU
L’ALOUETTE PARFOIS
BREF CE QUI VAUT LE COUP
QUI ÉTAIT UNE FOIS

DANS CE MONDE  DE SAUVAGES
DE SUCEURS DE VAMPIRES
OUI SOUVENT J’AI LA RAGE
LES TRIPES QUI CHAVIRENT

ET J’ÉCOUTE LE COUCOU 
LE SOIR AU FOND DES BOIS
JE GRONDE AVEC LES LOUPS
ET LES TIGRES AUX ABOIS

JE N’AI PAS DE MESSAGE 
PAS GRAND-CHOSE À VOUS DIRE
ALORS JE PLIE BAGAGE
ET TEL UN VIEUX SATYRE 

MOI J’ÉCOUTE LE COUCOU
ET LA QUEUE AUX ABOIS
MOI JE TIRE MON COUP
AVEC LA FÉE DES BOIS

LE COUCOU  (Lyrics)

This song features Dave Cooper on vocals and rhythm guitar.  This is a variation on a song I wrote a little while back and placed on YouTube.  I play mandolin and fiddle on this version.  Dave Cooper added new music and melody for the original lyrics.

Here is a link to the original version of this song:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SJSVW4EBZaQ

Here is a link to the music of Dave Cooper (warfydave):
https://soundcloud.com/warfydave

Do Right, Do Wrong

Verse 1:
Way back in the 1500’s
In Stratford upon Avon
The Merchant of Venice 
Shylock is good and a menace

Chorus 1:
To do a great right 
Do a little wrong
That is what
Shakespeare said

Verse 2:
What does it mean
To the play’s scene
Why must one do wrong to do right?
That is the situation Portia had to fight
How can this possibly be
Why would he make this plea

Verse 3:
When Bassanio urges Portia to break the law in order to thwart Shylock

Final Double Chorus:
Sometimes it is necessary
To do a little wrong
To create a situation for a great right

References:
https://livewireaz.com/where-did-shakespeare-write
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Merchant_of_Venice
https://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/2682703-the-merchant-of-venice

Do Right Do Wrong (with warfydave)

All rights reserved by Rolf Joseph

Lyrics:

He’s not a boy who plays it safe
Ooh la la la, alright
He’s captivated by the dance of the shadowlight
Like a phantom in a moonlit haze
The eyes in the crowd with the glittering whispers
On their leather boots
Searching for the signs while their minds are drifting
Through the night sky
A painted portrait of his dreams that he chased
And filled with an endless trust

I need a ride to the other side
To feel the pulse, to open wide
I need a ride to the other side
Let’s chase the stars and not collide

I saw the world through a kaleidoscope
In hues of hope that never broke
I found the peace in a spiraled scope
Lost in vastness, this is dope
The whispers in my ears, telling tales of old
In rhythms soft as gold
Breathing life into these verses, never fold
Living dreams into the day, behold

I need a ride to the other side
To feel the pulse, to open wide
I need a ride to the other side
Let’s chase the stars and not collide

In the silence we can hear
All the echoes drawing near
Floating higher through the flame
Feel the warmth, it calls our names

I need a ride to the other side
To feel the pulse, to open wide
I need a ride to the other side
Let’s chase the stars and not collide

Through technicolor skies, we’ll break away
With every heartbeat, we’ll sway and play
The echoes dance in a playful haze
Chasing visions that won't fade away

I need a ride to the other side
To feel the pulse, to open wide
I need a ride to the other side
Let’s chase the stars and not collide

In the corridors of sound, where magic flows
Through cosmic waves that no one knows
We’ll paint the air with colors bright
Igniting the darkness, a radiant light

I need a ride to the other side
To feel the pulse, to open wide
I need a ride to the other side
Let’s chase the stars and not collide

🆔0883 📅250503⌛3:49 ▶0262 : 🆕I need a ride to the other side

Autodidatta Musicista Polistrumentista, Arrangiatore e  Cantante. inizia sin da giovanissimo  a manifestare una spiccata e istintiva propensione per il ritmo e la musica  
E' Compositore, Autore e compone nel cd Il Cuore fa di Irene Fargo il brano Libellula, "canzone che in una veste apparentemente delicata, descrive il grande dramma della pedofilia vista dagli occhi di un bambino".
One Man Band della musica pubblicata qui, alla composizione al master.  ;))
Buon Ascolto! se vi va lasciate un commento o un like mi farà piacere! GRAZIE!🌟

PANDEMIA

Flavio Pozzaglio (Rufus)