With all kinds of destinations
A beach is still a beach
You don’t always need much money
For a good time to be within your reach
There’s a Throwback Thursday photo
From my teenage days
No girlfriend so I’d be happy
With each smile that would come my way
Even when adulting 
Romantic getaways are more fun
Yet there’s one memory that stands out to me
In the setting Florida sun

(Chorus)
That thunderstorm blew over 
And the clouds spread the colors of the sunset
I appreciate where I’m standing
Looking out from the gulf side 
On that rain-soaked sand
I can see my world expanding

Got a serious decision coming
Got to figure out what’s really meant to be
But I don’t trust TV commercials
Where should I go to get that real degree?
I’m surrounded by sand and seagulls Breathing in the salty air
Reggae music running though my head
Forgetting every care
I realize I can’t love someone
Who hardly knows I exist
Ideas and dreams are unfolding
In a time I seldom miss

(Chorus)

It’s like learning new songs
While running with the classics
As with winter comes the spring
Are we hanging on the brink
Is music saving us like always
We still have something more than a fanciful fling
So the soundtrack of the moment Is a chill out summer mix
I have a few days off to live In the imagery it depicts
Time to let go of all worries Boogie on another wave
Fall in love again once again
Hit an open mic if I feel brave

(Chorus)
A new day is beginning
I’m awake for the sunrise
I appreciate where I’m standing
Out on the balcony 
Of my hotel room
I can see my world expanding

Expanding

Prelude for flute and piano
Ksenia Zvereva (flute)
Alina Mukhametrakhimova (piano)

Lighthouse

from the whirlwind

Just venting...no comments...fuck everything

FuckFuckFuck

Another of life's little tricks

Driftwood

The smallest change in wind can alter the landscape of the desert. Imagine what the smallest change in your thinking can do to alter the landscape of the planet

Isolation

Happening all the time: mad rush to travel...even in these locked down times. 
Manic saxophones follow a flute dawn.... Electro-melodica /flute mayhem.
(photo of railway vent).

RUSH HOUR

She trudged through the mud
Licking her fingers to savour that one last meal
Conscious of the townsfolk at her heels
Conscious
Just conscious from the beating she fled
Left half dead
Stinking of puss, cum, sweat and dirt
There were stains all down her skirt
That provided memories of the good times
The bad times
Each penny she had earnt
From the trade she'd learnt
And how the townsfolk mocked her for it
But she just did what she did to make ends meet
To put shoes on her children's feet
And food in their hungry mouths
She listened, sure that she could hear them crying from afar
But they were tucked up safely in their beds
Sure to be looked after by some kindly family
Who tell damaging tales of what mother was like
Stalking the streets at night
Propositioning under the moonlight
But as she cried "Murder! Murder!  Murder!"
Nobody heard her
Nobody chose to hear

Nobody Chose To Hear

Everybody's got em and if you don't then go get you some.

Bad Habits

Vocals, rhythm guitar, lead guitar, bass- Nic
Drums- Monkey Blood Lowdown
Lead Guitar-Admiral Krank 

Lyrics: Christina Rossetti, Nic
Music: The Monomentals

Greatest Hits

People are Food

People Are Food

Take a special time to listen to this track / listen loud enough ! / please enJoy !

Shadow dancers


expressions of my more extreme musical inclinations. 

from the whirlwind

alloys division