After reading the songs of Milarepa when he entered his cave above Demon Lake, a famous lake in North India where it is believed an octopus like demon lives. Thing is that the area is amazingly beautiful and the evil from west of there has not yet destroyed the life of this mountain region, where Pakistan cannot earthquakes try, so the Hundred Thousand Songs of Milarepa continue. Here there were three demons waiting in his meditation and sleeping cave to taunt him and to convince him they were minor angels here to bring him news of God. Milarepa saw the grinning death, as our Southern Blues sees that devil smile grinning into hell, so did he, so he sang them songs to mesmerize them and seduce them into a state of wonder. He was then able to disperse of them, as we should of those around us in whom we see thievery, deception, slothful slinking taking of what is you and these are marks of minor Deceptors. Stare down the shrouds that hide their nature and you will see, and then what? Sing. Charm. Seduce and lead them down into your own “demon lake” and as far away as possible before they suck away every touch of love, peace, in your soul.
the title says it all. I was meditating and all of a sudden an image of the three branches of government being destroyed crossed across my eyes, a screaming in my ears, the sense of fear when all the hairs on your are are standing up, and the 25th Amendment revealed. What can I say? Do I want to see him removed or swinging from old hickory strung up like treasonous officials once were, and in China you get have the bullet sent to you but you must also buy the bullet, so it would be a nice adornment for the bride of Frankenstein or Groper In Chief and his puppy Paul false Catholic Ryan as The Smirk, as I prefer.
The Sound of 3 Branches of Government Burning Down, All Cowards Inside – 5:17:17, 9.20 AM by H Lamar Thomas is licensed under a Creative Commons License.
I kinda think the title says it all. To Love is to Express God. To Express
God is to Love. There is nothing hidden here. The poetry is the final Steinway play during the last three minutes. Some of these are extremely difficult to play though they may sound similar to other of my work, I guess you could say that in this particular format it is a style. It is my way of prayer, to communicate and to be with the real presence of God. Thank you angry, judgemental Catholics for thinking this is musical heresy, I appreciate the misunderstanding as I have appreciated similar throughout my life. You make my skin thicker and my soul more open to love. I dedicate this to Aaron Julian Wegelin and Liz Kerlin.
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.
“I want to tell you a song about a girl, but I can’t find my way back home again, and then we did” Just because I copped a phrase from the original.
Some of the songs have been moved around or lost after I changed format. Hopefully not too much has been changed. This stuff took way more time and effort than I thought it would when I wanted to update the look and categories for the songs. Everything here is also on SoundCloud except for my published poetry and food articles which I hope have not been screwed up.
Source: She Held His Hand (For EK)
This has the impression of the last movement of Berlioz, Symphony Fantastique, but it was unintentional. It was fun , the more I thought of Sessions going down for Russia connections and dirty Beauregard deals the more I got into the piano beat halfway in. For a dark march to the gallows pole, I had fun. Hope you do as well.