Nice vibes. i loved that squeaky little voice

Movements Of The Blue

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Weathered Tiara

She looks beautiful while dancing in the starry sky...
Composed, written, played and mixed by Guglielmo Allegro aka WillyKuma.

Dancing Moon

Sorrow

deep breath... take a moment.... breath out... repeat! 

The Mist Of Time

Take A Moment

More music:
https://www.youtube.com/@RavenCrowBeat/videos

Glide Dust Stabs

Blood Pumping

Mote; Unlike the higher-quality wav-files on Jeff's and Well's pages, this is just am mp3 file. Why? Ask soundcloud,

Well laid down an enthralling, fast-paced, sweaty-eyed dancefloor track, calling it an open collab. Stonerjazz picked it up, marrying it to his expressive voice and instruments. As the ancient art of maieutic (look it up) serendipity (look this one up as well) would have it, Jeff and I had just finished an amazing poem which finely expressed what he heard in Well's sound. I can only guess how many hours he spent adding this, fine-tuning that, getting the balance right. In the end it sat there, all groomed in its weekday suit and asked to go out and play. Yeah, why don't you do that? (That's how jo tells the story at least).

My good and dear friend Jo Richter and I have been practicing a form of commando Free association poetry for a little bit now, Firing multiple replies to each others words across the void, rapidly --This Poem is one such project-- Initially done lightning Fast and then refined and modified for lyrical Flow and meaning-- To further complicate the process, i with Jo's encouragement used these word and some Sounds from my deepmind 6 to answer an open collaboration with music by our friend Well aka Hakan- (That's what Jeff says).

image: copyright Jeff Gardiner.

Poem / copyright Jeff Gardiner and jo richter:
Original tile: Kung Tze in the Subway Car

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 isles, 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--

Poetry

Kouakou

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