A space one would like to stay in. Beautiful!

The beginning of all art:
a song when planting a rice field
in the country’s inmost part.

haiku by Ichihara Tayo-Jo https://wkdhaikutopics.blogspot.com/2007/03/ichihara-tayo-jo.html

picture by raihan n. aziz https://unsplash.com/@4812mp

For more information visit http://www.naviarrecords.com/about/naviar-haiku

fatal HR

halF arT [naviarhaiku384]

Noise is Noise(and not fade away)

Wilfried Hanrath -- Noise is Noise(and not fade away)

The Discovered

This in memory of my actual true neighbor Gordon.  I didn't name the tune after him so much as used him to represent everyone.   You look like him, I look like him - we all do because we are all one and the same.   Remember that people and RIP Gordon K.

letting go and flying higher than ever

fever in the south

you look kinda like my neighbor Gordon

You look kinda like my neighbor Gordon

TWELVE

Civilization's Pulse

Magazine

Jupiter Ascending

https://soundcloud.com/theweightytree/i-dont-care-think-i-love-you-weakheart-drop-the-weighty-tree
_________________________________________________
Mezz Recipe - Vocals & Guitars  @exoticsoundsofmezzrecipe
Weighty Tree - Bass, Guitars, comp/arrgt/mix
More here:
https://soundcloud.com/theweightytree/sets/the-mezz-recipe-sessions-1

We're All Doing Time - Mezz Recipe & The Weighty Tree

Wave In Cmin

Spazzole a Disco Fanatico

Music : Mahan Mahan
Vocals : Bobby Byrd (Sampled & used with implied permissions & best of intentions)

Produced & Recorded @ Pahlavi Sound Studios in Mama Shadi's basement, Los Angeles, CA, USA 01/2021

Spazzole a Disco Fanatico

Merci à Ownowl https://soundcloud.com/ownowl pour le partage de sa si belle musique avec moi.

Comme un ciel d’orage posé sur ma mémoire
Le sombre gris-bleuté du toit qui m’abritait
Les veines de la roche affleurant les sentiers
Poudrés de ses éclats arrachés aux entrailles
Des galeries creusées à coup de dynamite
Dans de sourds grondements qui ébranlaient mes nuits
Et les buttes sauvages
Des rebuts de ce schiste

Et les hommes fantômes aux lanternes cyclope
Qui crachaient leurs poumons pour mériter de vivre

Et puis, et puis…

La douceur des printemps sur ces buttes maudites
Parsemées de lichens et de l’or des genêts
Et puis les promenades où sa main me guidait
Lorsque nous traversions des ronces labyrinthiques
Qu’il me disait le nom de toutes les choses à voir
Et retenait mon pas pour gravir les montagnes
De cette ardoise tiède qui glissait, s’effritait

De cette odeur têtue des lilas sauvages
Surgis des interstices d’un sol chaotique
Où la nuit les lapins de garenne dansaient

Berceau de ma naissance
Posé sur ma mémoire

frenglish translation:
Like a stormy sky over my memory
The dark bluish gray of the roof that sheltered me
The veins of the rock flush with the paths
Powdered with shards torn from the bowels
Galleries dug with dynamite
In muffled rumblings that shook my nights
And the wild hills
Scraps of this shale

And the ghost men with the cyclops lanterns
Who spat their lungs out to deserve to live

And then, and then ...

The sweetness of spring on these cursed hills
Strewn with lichens and the gold of the broom
And then the walks where his hand guided me
When we walked through labyrinthine brambles
That he told me the names of all the things to see
And held back my step to climb the mountains
From this warm slate that was slipping, crumbling.

And that stubborn smell of wild lilacs
Rise from the cracks of a chaotic ground
Where the wild rabbits danced at night


Cradle of my birth
Placed on my memory

Wave In Cmin

Noise from the echoes

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