Wow this is beautiful. Very soft textures that really resonate

VB - 12

Wave

THE BLUEZ DOGZ COMING AT YA 

BE SURE TO LIKE FOLLOW AND LISTEN TO
https://soundcloud.com/geronnimo-querido?utm_source=clipboard&utm_medium=text&utm_campaign=social_sharing
https://soundcloud.com/user-705706912?utm_source=clipboard&utm_medium=text&utm_campaign=social_sharing

I DONT KNOW WHAT TO SAY  By The Bluez Dogz eddyoffline Geronnimo & The Junez

A song about an encounter with a vampire.

Vampire Dressed In Lace

float............................................................ɴαrcoѕιѕ........................................

Sag' o sag' sind's Hallucinationen?
Halt ich dich als Eheweib umspannt?
Zieh'n der Arme Muskelcontractionen
Dich als Gattin an die Thoraxwand?
Ist dies Glück, dies wahrhaft grenzenlose,
Frag' ich skeptisch, ist es wirklich mein?
Keine Stickstoffoxydul-Narkose
Wiegt mein Hirn in süße Träume ein?

Könnt' ich dir, o Holde, demonstriren
Dieses Maximum von Seligkeit!
Willst du darauf hin mich auscultiren,
Sieh', schon liegt das Stethoskop bereit.
Und die Diagnose wird ergeben,
Daß die einst akute Liebe jetzt
Chronisch sich in allen Zellgeweben
Meines Organismus festgesetzt.

Tell me, are they hallucinations?
Do I hold you as a wife?
Do the muscles of your arms pull you
You as a wife to the chest wall?
Is this happiness, this truly boundless happiness?
I ask skeptically, is it really mine?
No nitrogen oxide anesthesia
Lulls my brain into sweet dreams?

Could I demonstrate to you, O fair one
This maximum of bliss!
Will thou thereupon unseat me,
Look, the stethoscope is already ready.
And the diagnosis will reveal
That the once acute love now
Chronic in all the cellular tissues
Of my organism.

Edwin Bormann (1851 - 1912), deutscher Schriftsteller, publizierte auch unter dem Pseudonym Bliemchen

ɴαrcoѕιѕ

moment: blue

Nice groove from a jam…
…with Leon Carter on the drums, Dave Toolan and Charlie Villiers on the guitars, and myself on the bass and singing.

The lyrics are some excerpts from this rambling notepad poem I wrote;

Your Soul

So, how do you see your soul?
Can you put it into words?
A spoonful of honey from the gods?
Or a germ? or a thirst?
Is your soul a magic bean inside a biscuit tin?
Or a ‘pass the parcel’ mystery delight, waiting deep within?
Or simply a church candle flickering in the night?
Or is it like a mint imperial; round, smooth and white?
Is it wrapped in paper, hidden in a drawer?
Or more like a snowdrop on the forest floor?
Perhaps a shiny pearl inside an oyster shell…
Or the piece of grit at the centre of the pearl?!
Or is it a lotus flower in the middle of the pond?
A golden nugget, a lightbulb, or a daisy?
Treasure, buried beneath a giant redwood tree?
Is it a tea-light in an old jam jar, on the bookshelf?
Is it the water in a glass, or the glass itself?
A penny in a pudding or a fountain in a square?
The cherry on the bun? … or do you think there’s nothing there?

And does it remain constant, or how does it change?
Does it tarnish? Does it spoil?
Does it rust? Does it stain?
Does it radiate and deplete?
Could it be your body heat?
Does it mature like wine, or does it grow?
Or does it dim and diminish, does it corrode?
Is it impervious and unwavering?
Is it needy and long suffering? 
Is it passive and detached?
Or does it get dented and scratched?

Does it start out as a blank canvas, onto which you paint?
Does it get corrupted, when once it was a saint?
A block of marble you chisel and carve,
Into a marvellous work of art?
Or a fire ignited by a heavenly spark?
To sometimes smoulder and sometimes blaze?
Does it age, over the years, just like a face?
Does it feed on love received?
And wither if deprived?
Needing just a splash of water or a hug to be revived?

Do we all have the same soul?
‘A universal soul’ shared out within us all?

The same life-force, pure at the core
Of every singer, nurse, salesman, junky, tourist, whore?
Every Christian, Muslim, Jew, and Buddhist…
Pagan, Sikh, Scientologist, and Druid?
Every pusher, every addict
Every guard, and every convict?

Even every chicken, and even every fox?
Even the sewer rats and the sparrow-hawks?
And the ants and the plants?
What about the worms and the germs?

Could our deepest inner-selves 
All be one and the same?
If I had lived 
The life you’ve lived
Would I be just the same?

Careful as you choose your metaphor
Your essence to describe
You can make yourself believe anything
You’ll believe your own lies

Words in jest or bravado, or in false modesty
May cast the dye, and shape your mould
When your story is being told…

So how do you see your soul?
Answers please, in the comments below?!

Your Soul

“Dancing in the distance”

おくつきは並びたれどもうつし世に相ひ逢はざりし吾子三人はや
木下利玄 (1886-1925)
出典：『木下利玄全歌集』五島 茂 編　岩波文庫

The graves of three brothers and sisters are side by side. They have never seen each other in this life.
Rigen Kinoshita(1886-1925)
Source: “Complete Collected TANKA(Japanese Short Poem) by Rigen Kinoshita: editing by Shigeru Goto”　Iwanami Shoten Publisher

Art work: RondellMelling via Pixabay

Dancing In The Distance

From  a recording of an iron hinge: https://freesound.org/people/smidoid/sounds/147670/

It All Hinges On ...

Das ametrische System

Rebirth

Minimal/contemporary improvising, playing piano and sax, electronics. Combining acoustic and electronic approaches. Working with poetry, theatre, soundtracks.

moment: blue

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