Kudos to #Stina Crow! Wrote my this one after listening to her stuff. A fine Swedish artist

like the vocal turn here and uptick in the guitar. Great mood tune.

Inspired by the annual Galaxidi Islands regatta for vintage sail-wooden boats.

Composed by: John Sideris 
Formulated / performed by: ΠΕΡΑ ΑΠΟ ΤΟΝ ΧΡΟΝΟ (drums: Antonis Kondoglou)
Recorded & Mastered in: 9800 Studios, by Antonis Kondoglou

Apoplous

Trancy, atmospheric breakbeat @ 128bpm
Mastered using Dolby for SoundCloud Creators (clear sky)

Signs

I had a holiday in Sweden in August and went on a steam train.  This is what it felt like to me.

Where The Steam Trains Go

UnBoxed September 2024

[ d o w n l o a d a b l e ]

"Not all who wander are lost." -- J.R.R. Tolkien

We all wander at one time or another.  Sometimes, it leads us to wonderful discoveries.  At other times, it can take us away from the things and people in life that are truly important.  One thing is certain:  Wandering almost always teaches us something.

Wandering

Tempo 61bpm
Timing 4/4
Tuning 415.30Hz A
Roots B / Bb

Lyrics

Erase
Begin it again
Heaven remade in a moment with air
What will we save?
Can we still care?
Too peace depraved
Gaming with God
Truth or dare

Poisoned by the autocrats
They’re up for murder
Small minded fucking rats
Wars to lies
Broken laws
Insane cause
Line the cells up...
Justice for each one

It burst

The Enchantment

Splitz (2021) Anthology CD2 Track 04

From the Inktober 2024 drawing challenge I add some musical colors to the drawings. Each day of October a new drawing needs to be created and posted. see my playlist “Inktober 2024 short tracks”

Inktober 2024 26.Camera -Valentino

Une sorte d'hymne à Blaise Cendrars, aux artistes en général, au rêves de voyage, à l'Ukraine libérée. Bien sûr c'est trop long, mais c'est un rêve, et dans un rêve, on ne commande rien, ni les images, ni la musique, ni la durée.
PAROLES
Aux aventuriers du rêve,
À ceux qui arpentent sans trêve
 Les territoires de la beauté
Avec Cendrars
Résonne toujours la voix de la petite Jeanne : 
« Blaise, dis-moi, sommes-nous loin de Montmartre ? »
 Et la statue aux yeux d’albâtre 
 Comment fait-elle ? comment fait-elle ?
Sa vie vibrante sous le plâtre,
 Sa main glissant sous l’oreiller
 Dans l’ombre bleue de l’atelier ? 
 Dis-moi Cendrars,
 Comment fait l’art ? 
 Et l’Or du Rhin ? et l’anneau d’or ?
 - Je n’en sais rien.
Au creux de tes reins je m’endors
Je m’endors.
Aux aventuriers du rêve,
A tous ceux qui arpentent sans trêve
Les territoires de la beauté,
 Qui y travaillent sans compter,
Tu leur envoies tes baisers,
Tes 400 coups, ton Pierrot le Fou.
Tout ce qui compte ne compte pas
Aux yeux des marchandes de sable ;
 Mais nous on garde vos trésors,
 L’enfance aux yeux d’or,
L’enfance aux yeux d’or.
Billes d’agathe, pêcheurs de perles,
Os de seiche, plumes de merle,
 Les 400 coups, Pierrot le Fou.
Dans le wagon Méliès,
 Il y a Narciso Yepes, 
Il joue à nos « Jeux Interdits » ;
 Moi je reste au pied du lit ;
Nous on s’en fout, dans le train, nous,
 On s’endort,
Le Transsibérien s’arrête à Kiev,
On le donne à l’Ukraine libérée,
 A tous nos rêves éveillés,
 A tous ceux qui arpentent sans trêve
 Les territoires de la beauté
Avec la voix de Jeanne !
 « Blaise, dis-moi, on est loin de Montmartre ? »
 Blaise, dis-moi, et la statue d’albâtre,
 Comment fait-elle ? comment fait-elle ?
La vie vibrante sous le plâtre,
 La main glissant sous l’oreiller,
 Dans l’ombre bleue de l’atelier ? 
 Comment fait-elle ?- Je n’en sais rien.
 Et dans le Transsibérien
 Au creux de tes reins,
 On s’endort.
 On rêve à l’oiseau rare
 À Blaise Cendrars 
‘Dis Blaise, sommes-nous loin de Montmartre ? » 
_____________________________________________________________________

à Blaise

Feast Your Eyes On The Target

Artemis' Victual Hunt

“Crown me in silence…
Dress me in sin…
And pierce my faith again…”

They said pain would purify 
But it only made me colder.
Wrapped in thorns they called divine,
As the blood slid off my shoulder.

Their scripture kissed with acid tongues,
Their prayers stitched in disguise.
I swallowed light, they called it truth 
But all I tasted…
Was lies.

Thorns on my head, blood in my mouth,
Lies like nails, driving doubt.
I wore the crown they made for gods 
But felt the steel of every fraud.

You preached of grace while burning books,
Guilt turned into gold you took.
I knelt in fire, I begged the stone 
But heaven stared with hollow bones.

The choir weeps in perfect pitch,
While sin drips from their holy switch.
A lash, a lie, a kiss, a cross 
What’s salvation if I’m the loss?

This is not redemption — this is rot.
I gave my soul. They gave me… what?
A crown of thorns. A book of rules.
A grave dug deep. A world of fools.

Thorns on my head, blood in my mouth,
Lies like nails, driving doubt.
I wore the crown they made for gods 
But I broke it off with spiteful jaws.

Thorns… blood… lies…
“And none of it was mine.”

Thorns, Blood, Lies

Howdy,

Welcome to TBD.

All these creations are made by hard work and years upon years upon years of practice and trying to explain this world and the human condition to myself in the process through poems & songs.

Thanks for all of your wonderful support.

Peace and Love to Everyone,

Carl Culliton


Great David Bowie Interview
https://youtu.be/JRtZc_Nmo5w?si=1g1Wag87NdEumAc4

The Enchantment

The Beautiful Dark

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