Rolling In The Field

Lonely Cloud

桜花の杜

had a great review here: 
https://www.modularrodeo.com/track-of-the-week/930-subba-bubba-by-noxpox

subba bubba

Here today

Find Seagull's brilliant music here: @farout-music-studio

Find David's sublime guitar work here: @david-dunhamuser589535203
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You know, don't you?  Oh, yes you do.  
You know you're being monitored, observed, assessed by something that knows you intimately.  
Knows you better than you’d like to think.  
Your secondary semi-subconscious once-removed.  
That's why you talk to yourself - or pretend to.  
Admit it - you're not really you, at all, are you?  
In fact, you're not real, are you?  You are watching “you”.  
You are nothing but your alter ego's doppelganger temporarily encased in a piece of warm, wet meat.  
A transient instantiation of a mirrored reflection of some lump of sentience from precisely one, of an infinite number of parallel universes.  

It’s called “conscience”.  

Handle with care.  

You were gifted it for a reason.
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"…..Neatly packaged, all my doubts, the rationales and bellyaches,
Wracked without, passion in thrall to humanity's handicap diamond stakes…."
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Ghost of a Sense

Yes, I know you.
I can feel your presence.
I can touch you, smell you.
I see you not by sight of eye
And yet I ken that you are I
That vespered wraith that writhes within
To test my faith, try my sin
Push the bounds to cause offence
A moral, soul thing, ghost of a sense recalls myself, so well defined
Entrenched, walls behind, built so sound of dust that crowned the pity, falling soft amiss, 
Deep inside the tears I cry as here I find my self-abyss.

Whispers bringing shadows, filled of secrets therein held,
Memories, morose, piece me still, to wear in time, my wasted face.
And now reside, cast aside, to forge and ever meld,
Of haunting, ringing echoes, that will alone their chime erased.

Ah! But you won't twist me, nor bind me fast, to the sandy doctrines of the misty past, 
With its beards and staffs and crinkled testaments.
My future's sprinkled here present with your crass irrelevance and matters not that sat right there, 
The blackest chasm in my simpling world so spare, 
Where space and time have overspilled the leaking psyche of a crippled mind,
That barely copes, unfulfilled, a crooked, limpid moral health of broken shrines
That hopes to find ....
   .......some worthwhile inner self.
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Photo by Marten Newhall on Unsplash

Ghost of a Sense ... with Seagull and David Dunham

https://echotypy.bandcamp.com/album/katalog-zjawisk

Echotypy - "Just for Love"

stratocaster(from the half life on Bandcamp)

WUST: https://soundcloud.com/wust
Creative and wonderful collaboration with Uwe WÜST🎶🙏🌿

Rolling In The Field

Richard Callin