Vocals Jo Richter and jeff gardiner

poem by Jo Richter

The timid tip of your toe won't do
Tensions tighten till you break through
 scintillating Screeds of singular hue
turtle purple, piranha blue.

The torrid tip of my tongue won't Try
to call out the creatures that boldly swim by
superpositions of fact and belief
when the riff vibrates the sea and the reef.

Cymbals bells lyres when the goddess is near
it Says as is quintillion tier
The tentative tug won't tear down the tarp
Zen scholars tend the unplugged Harp...

The Tentative Tug-- with Sonic Structures and Silent Stretches

method: a collaborative poem and sonification by Jo Richter and Jeff Gardiner
image: image based on the skull of a dry-nosed monkey as displayed at Phyletisches Museum, Jena, Germany, photograph by jo richter

poem / copyright bv Jeff gardiner and jo richter:

there is no rain here, just the tears from the weeping of the stones
outside her bedroom window where she lay sleeping in her featherbed
while the commentator spoke
describing western mountains turning into ridges, ridges turning into bridges, bridges turning into hope

the denizens and citizens
of argos, argolis
neighbouring arcadia
justly praise the foresight
of their royals, king acrisius
and queen eurydice
for there is life in bliss

there is so much to miss
when you don‘t hear, smelll, see
never touch gaean grass
in this tomb, encased by night
washed out grey disphoria
not a single joy to please
a dreaded, unbedded princess

chunks of sol and distant body parts
in a ball of spinning stones
thrown across the darkness
- light, light, laser light -
like the bones of gods and quasars
- forcing me up -
he bought that dress in his distant travels
-forcing me up -
with sixty of the hundred that remained, and sent it by a pony
only after it was modeled by a beauty and a stranger
- rain, rain, fall on me -
who was naked underneath, so erotic in the moment of the showing
- life in its prime -
innocence resembles a dress
constructed of the finest silk, it wears as though is was the wind
- life in its prime -
it's weight can only be detected by the clotting of the blood
- underneath the mirror ball -
in the wound eternal --
the old man walking, he described it in his journal
- losing my weight -
the end of the road, the start of a trail
- losing my weight -
that leads to a path
that ends in a vale
- light, light, laser light -
and now the world is made of gravity and premonitions
- filling my cup, lifting me up -
a stone held by a god
squeezed by fingers dear
while it bleeds tears of lust and admonitions.

the horses ever truthful
were wild that night
it may have been the wind that kept them
from their slumber in the paddock-

And the old man sleepless in the service of the beast

her head reflected in bronze
bans silicate humanoids

I have survived the seas
for I was born to a god

called for the priest
relying on the promise of a fool
by all accounts.

and down below he saw the wanderer
slumbered in the high grass of summer
dreaming of his mother
reciting something silly

I am not as weak as once
a boy was who failed at quoits

cases and races and traces of trouble
places with millions of faces
and cases and cases of coke
and everyone broke-

taking the trouble to tell tales of the bubble
before it was popped by the pauper
with a gun and a knife
and a troublesome wife

heroes are made to prevail
heroes are made to prevail

while the milky way monkey was rolling the dice-

That Naked Viola And The Milky Way Monkey featuring Sonic Structures and Silent Stretches

This Alliteration Pandemonium poem is the result of Jo and i Riffing Randomly and somehow telling an unexpected story about something that is not exactly clear--Cheers to all who happen by the condominium:):)

That's quite a bit of fun---Repeat 10 times
Continental condiments are best consumed in contaminated corporate cosmic condominiums where bulimic Baristas Bunk behind brick barriers Brewing Black Beverage and baking Breakfast Biscuits for surreptitious Slinkers slightly surprised by sentient survivors and Bilingual Belligerent Brokers breaking buttered Bread and making bargains based in basement full of slowly slithering synonyms saying sorry insincerely-
Cratered conscientious less creatures cracking craniums for cash and condimental considerations-
a paradoxic pandemonial paradise pushed past previous parsecs politely told to take Toltec Tantrum training, But only when it's raining.

Paradoxic Pandemonial Paradizmo  with Sonic Structures and Silent Stretches

This is the second Alliteration word extravaganza with its headwaters in a large pool of poetry words and ideas created by Jo Richter and me over the last few months with maximum attention to rime and flow letting the story unfold of its own accord--Some funny stuff happened 
😊
After climbing a low  hill in an altered state i met a woman who said she was from the future. i meant to tell her something
got distracted and turned away
When i turned back, she was a thousand miles away
a point of light in the southern Sky and then the thought it just slipped away

My OTher's coming over uninvited all the time asking if i want to make some music
"well i don't see why not" is the answer to the question every time and it;s sublime-
Making music with that other fella in my head--
So you see, it's not a single psychopath After all--
It's a pair of Parrots perching on a neutron star or riding in a car or scratching in the dirt with a crooked stick-

A Morphine moment Nite Cap
the sound of one hand clapping
Belly's slapping to the rhythm of the music 
lunatics laughing at the linen in the lonely hotel lobby-

Cousin Bobby and his sister Sheila cycle south on brand new bikes
blinded by the brilliant broken sky-
All the purple people eaters thought they heard her cry Out
all the people thought they heard her Cry
With an enigmatic smile she explained sheepishly that it was just a cinder or a tiny pebble in her eye and that she never never ever ever cries-

She was thinking bout bobby's sister suzi stipping off her Sari at a party causing such a scene in her itsy bitsy teeny-weeny tiny yellow polka dot Bikini
With her boyfriend Bruno who was feedin doggy treats to the children in the neighbor hood and Suzi's bulldog Buster though she likes to call him spike who is munching and schlurping assorted cheese and meats from the party platter on the counter in the kitchen all the while while thinking that it doesn't really matter

Brand New Bikes with Sonic Structures and Silent Stretches

So here we are on the Planet of Uriah after blasting off from Oaxaca with all the ingredients for the Holy Dumpling in hand. While Albert Rufus Smith Stalks Roberta. and attempts to abscond with the bus/Sally and the dumplings Too-
Uziel has joined us on this adventure along with Masa (Tot.) Stephen with 'his wonderful guitar work and Terry..'s Beautiful Synth and production work-
The adventure continues and thank you for joining us on the journey :):)



* Stonerjazz @user-911083679 -- Vocals, Lyrics, Original Idea, Acoustic Guitar, and Artwork

* Uziel @user-455619833 -- Vocals

* TexMex Shaman @texmex-shaman -- Electric Guitar & Bridge

* Tot - @tot-beat -- Beat & Drums

* Tea R. Sea - @tea_are_sea -- Synths & Production

-------------
Catch up with the first 10 tracks of our work-in-progress concept album, Quest for the Holy Dumpling: on.soundcloud.com/FR63a

Listen to the Smoking Trout's first album, The Land of Zed (2021-2022): on.soundcloud.com/WB34q
-------------

Lyrics (by Stonerjazz):

We all chose it, we arrived here at this self-same place
he liked to think that he had earned it
but that simply not the case.
He just dreamed it up one sunday afternoon
while drowsing and lounging in the Ether
where the US resides
while living on a Proton Banished
to the outskirts of a single Atom
In a single Universe-
It was a wicked Curse, specifically designed for him
A scorcerer, Albert Rufus Smith
Stole a Rocket ship and he took it to Uriah
He was a rascal and scoundrel and a liar and a thief
But he had a magic knife that he had won in a game of dice
on a stormy night in a corner of some ruins
in the desert in december by the fire light with some other witches from Oaxaca
where he'd Spied Roberta picking magic mushrooms naked in the moonlight
with her brothers and her sisters and some others from the Bus-
It seems that Albert Rufus Smith Was Smitten

The eternal now is Wow
When we wonder why we wander
where we will
while walking walking walking to fulfill
the contemplated vacancy
Beyond the vast Horizen

Alberts knife was sliver with a handle made of Amber
when he held it high above his head
it gave off a blinding light
and on that night on the planet of Uriah
when Gus and all his jolly happy hopeful holograms arrived
on that Beat-up Bus
That formulated plan in Alberts wicked head
appeared to be on Track
had he not been messmerized by Roberta's perfect presence and physic
he might have pulled it off, that dirty rotten little sneak--

Sid and Larry caught him and his Cronies
trying to steal the bus and Abduct
Sally and Roberta too, Who
were sleeping on the bus in the back together as they always do,
And Gus was not Amused-
Albert seemed to be confused until he held his Magic knife up high
and blinded ever bodies eye
and in a frantic flight he escaped into the distant night--

Albert Rufus Smith (featuring Tot. and the Smoking Trout) the Holy dumpling #11 (best played loud)

deep mind 6(synth)-mellotron-roland Vt-4-Roland drum/bass-Stratocaster-les Paul- Epiphone acoustic-Roland amp models--Voice---Djembe--e bow-179 bpm

BRAIN PASTE

Tampered Tempo's

i asked Stephen 

@texmex-shaman(TexMex Shaman) to add something to this already Strange Guitar-ish tune--Not one to shy away from a challenge, He delivered something appropriately and delightfully Quirkish in response much to my Delight.  So here it is Folks For Your listening pleasure--and a huge pre thank you to all those that do, and a special Thanks to Stephen for the music and the wonderful production Tweaks That took the whole production to another level--

The Pterodactyl and the Mongoose--featuring TexMex Shaman

a collaboration of @user-911083679 and @sonic-textures

words: Jeff Gardiner and jo richter
initial arrangement, voice and everything music: Jeff Gardiner
final arrangement, jaw harp, ravish, and post-production: jo richter

in the hills, there are trees
//: wild things, growing on the slopes ://

cold sweat holds fear at bay
and yet a peg is squarely driven into bone and gristle
delusions breed sight
the picture moving like a ghost amongst the boulders
in the hills, there are trees
wild things, thick stems are growing on the slopes
sheltering birds who flutter and preen indifferently
birds singing with ease, picture perfect, perfect pitch
and they remember all the words in perfect pitch
ease evoking mirth
god‘s infantile pranks
and fortunes of mood
ripple down through the ranks
to the nauseous roots
of behavior filed
with cunning indolence
and insurrections denied
in unbidding silence
is that what you mean

Wild Things growing on the Slopes--with Sonic Structures and Silent Stretches

this music is brought to you by 2 Fender Telecasters( a couple of Stunners) and two guitar players one being the Amazing Stephen Watkins of Texmex Shaman whom also Produced this guitar gem and the other being Myself-- taken from a composition by another wonderful composer and guitarist who wrote this song in the early 70's in another form, but a similar Progression--Hope everyone enjoys this as much as i do!! the drums and bass are supplied by Roland and Boss--
the guitar garden artwork was created by Stephen

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