Realities

Complete Act Of Desperation 
The acts of big boy children minds in high places unraveled on all of us with the help of the radicalized voter. This will make an intense movie script, Hollywood? Auld Dang Sign, keeps creeping up, I know. If you survive this you're going to get old. Dement-ch-yeah! See you later. I'm going for coffee.

Pigs--In--Space, on the way to Mars. Comments: I apologize to actual swine.

Acte Complet De Désespoir

The expanded version from long ago. Train - your ear. Look both ways. 
It seems impossible to change the flow.

Uncoupled At The Rail Crossing

It's Spring. The woodpecker at dawn, machine beak pecker madness, looking for a girl!

Wood-Spring-Pecker-Metal-Roof Clatter, Etc.

I used to hate accordions but now I'm learning French.

Dingle  Berrys & Drums Bonjour

It sounds really terrible without headphones. 
Laying In The Weeds, frightened, watching, wishing. My father took this photo
in Germany, 1950. He was traveling with a CBS film crew documenting the rebuilding efforts in agriculture after the war.

Pins And Needles

Money ft DA-WOOD11

She was the one, pretty, quick smile and the eyes of a viper. She was a mind reader. She gave me scholastic gas anxiety. See pic enlargement. Warning: Don't stare at her eyes too long.

Scholastical Gas ~Headphones Only~

Late Cutter

Do the drums first and hope for the best.

No Small Drip +

All Over Again

I, on my way, tripped over Yesterday. 
Again, it was awkwardly there in my way. And...

...you'll keep throwing it back 
using your lack, non creative up gummed 
with a fantasy sum of what's willfully dumb. It's
easier, and soft selling that way, willful ignorant
ears to play.

You think you're in control but experience can't be 
purchased - the lack - the slack
of a creativity hack. It's unreal, losing appeal.
 
It evades what might have been yours, in shares, 
had you left yourself less open to rife, 
saw in the raw with an eye to what's life.

Put simply, money corrupts like acid spilled akin.
And we, the core, take it on the chin.

But, that's what you have, what's left, bereft, your 
money can't buy, always hanging on a lie.
Finally, what's to be expected as time is collected?

There's always non insidious gradual Karma, you know.

So, it's time to say "Goodbye", "So Long", "It's Been Good 
To Know You". And please don't let all your alternative 
truth hit you in the ass on the way out. It could be harmful. 

And lastly, the-pendulum-will-swing, and bring silence of
that kind because, after all, the people can actually see
for themselves, and the children will be free to learn, 
again, to make a future where lying runs slim. 

And the most interesting fact of all, played out repeating
again and again, is history teaching us respect for what's
important, in the past a war seemed inordinate, and yet it
brought us together in love's better tether until it
subsided, freedom derided, slipping down a slippery slope
and removing the common person's hope. Lest we swallow that
dope, never more.

DISRUPTION, TRIPPING OVER YESTERDAY

GRANT

Grant was a relic of the brutal prize fighting past. He was punch
drunk with cauliflower ears, quick with his fists and always seemed
drunk by his unsteady manner. On a weekend he would pull up in his
collector classic black Super 8 Packard sedan and want to shoot the
breeze down at the road, a long walk down the hill from the orchard.
He would lay on the horn until you arrived. He never gave up.

He attended the afternoon coffee at the Copper Kettle when the crew
from the construction outfit showed up for a cup on their way home. It
was all about bragging and exchanging lies with all attending
including Grant. In his striped bib overalls he had the middle top
pocket loaded with relics and old pieces of paper. His life in general
was a bit of a mystery.

On this particular summer afternoon he was about to soon leave after
he arrived. He stood up with his usual jerkiness and stood still for a
moment as the din of conversation calmed down, eyes on him. He put one
hand over his ear and other up as if he was holding close a microphone
to his mouth. He was acting out. Then, a moment, and he let go a long
loud fart as his head strutted to attention and he said quite loud,
"Come in Tokyo!" and he maintained that faux alert as he walked
out. 

Morning Vertigo GO

Killing The Golden Goose
First, big noise blew into town.
https://soundcloud.com/tom-7934753/big-noise-project
Now - Insanity, irrational in scope, let the music fit the chaos
now. I just is, OK? NO!

The Slide - Killing The Golden Goose

PLEASE WEAR YOUR HEAD BONE PHONES, I'm 
always slightly off-beat and no sound engineer.
Some of the time the titles don't make much sense.  
I'm mostly otherwise too lazy to also write about it. And, 
actually, I am a writer.
Go figure.

New tracks tagged #My Own