Three instruments and me. Obviously about the silent corners we fear in our minds, and that those who push the hardest they are strong inside are usually crumbling with fear from deep inside; and then, they point and say it’s you, it’s you whose life and actions cause the curses in your mind, and in ‘yours’ too Psychology Today noodlers. Yeah, right view takes work. And then: Nope. Not me. Sorry y’all. I claim nothing of who you are and dedicate this song to me. So if I want to write hate mail, me to me, who cares, I am more open than the sea; so I hate me about love or a sincere heart showing pain then I can hate me, I can hate me all I want and equally love even more opening up right view, right view as supernatural, as we know, right view is where it all begins; and these are yours and all those screaming blue meanies you seem to adore, yeah I give a hand out to touch the finger of your blue meanies in mind theft and word chores. Then I just smile and laugh. The sun shines too hard for some. If you are on FB you are known. uh the photo is ironic hahaha just making fun of myself
Extended. new piano track, drum track. When I finished i realized I had been so sick for a month that all I wanted to do was see a revolution in this land of ours. Toss all government workers elected or not off the payroll and start over with people who pass civics tests, who have studied the humanities, who understand more than two languages, who are not fascists, who see government as for the people, to elect those who READ legislation, find the insurance Paul Ryan types and Paul Ryan and hang him on nearest lynching tree you can find right next to fat empty headed me me me shit for brains Trump. Burn this shithouse down and start again. INSURANCE FOR ALL> and the government workers from the bottom up have the same as we do and they lost it after their terms, no lifetime on our dime. There is a philosophy in this work of music and that is it, and more. And if not, dig the sounds and feel the dawn open up her eye to the world below. Very few souls are left to see.
Dawn showed itself and I heard this melodic drone shoveling death wings and swords out of my mind, baring my teeth at death and saying fuck off not yet, I will not play your games, I will not live your lie, no,
not yet you devil’s mate, I will not open all the piles of death letters at my door, I ain’t ready yet, no, not yet, I know when you want me really, Oh I know your drums and fife corps at the rivers edge.
7 levels Yamaha grand, full string orchestra, crotales, timpani, Bossendorfer grand, French horns and probably a string thing or two whispering its way around the orchestration and bombast. It is a eulogy, nonetheless, this is a eulogy. I hope you feel the consoling measures as well as angry timpani and horns here and there. Maybe feel how she smiled, and then a prayer to be had for her life, her soul, and those she loved.
This is as in the title, a eulogy, so there are up lifting and joyous moments but the leit motif one of sadness and loss.
Bess Burkett was loved by us all and those beyond. I hope this piece does her justice. I thought on her all night, then worked on this for a few hours, slept a few and started on engineering this Peace and I was fine with it in tone and effect.