I recorded my morning singing bowls and meditation on Amitabha, third level of Heaven being Pure Land, happiness, pure happiness among other Bodhisattvas and Buddhas. And so I haad to play the vocals through different knob settings and played around with a mellotron for proper background holdings for the bowles when eah ran free of it’s vibrations. There are messages in the poetry throughout but you really have to listen closely. It’s about ways of reaching Heaven, of at least being freed of the travails of the ever mortal shell in which we reside.
This is a less rambling lost and messy version than one earlier. I hope it is. After a while when I am working in several different mediums it is easy to get lost in God, in the third circle/level of beauty and ugliness beheld before the heart is given all to see and all to feel. I cut it in half and used wave form sound patterns as it progresses but it is still an angry work and anger is the target aimed at in dawn mists to shed this skin and bring myself back into the love of Tara, Buddha and Guan Shin Yi once again.
This is experimental noise poem. Me vox, 4 Tibetan singing bowls concentrating on two primarily and echo phase strings so there is a more ominous undercurrent throughout. This may be a download with book, I don’t know. It may still not be distorted enough as I passed out working on editing at the very end and lost all I had served as a movement between rooms of the vast to claustrophobic drone upon drone.
Do not turn up too loud. Be careful. This goes from gentle to classic earsplittiinloudenbangin one note to the next and if you have heard live Tibetan Bowls you know that they can be taken to the lowest low to a shrill thought impossible, well it is not impossible.
I had a blast recording this. It has a few of my most published poems two I think are personal masterpieces. Can you tell? Probably not. But that is not why I made this recording. I wanted to go beyond even my most experimental capabilities with live instruments. I did. So I Om’d and Namo Abitabha’d a bit just to settle the back heart into motion before an ear explosion happens. Or maybe it is not as risky as I think. Who knows? I don’t. If I did it would sound completely different and that is not why I did it this way.
Stupid background noise had me trash the first 24-28 minute version. So there is some aggression going on. We all need a little aggression.
This is not an easy piece. I would in fact call it about as experimental as I have gotten which is to say Beware Crazed Sounds Ahead. So enter at your own risk. I just wanted to go beyond anything I’ve heard and it may be because it is simply awful or that it just needs work while still being something unheard. I don’t know. Stupid background noise had me trash the first recording so this version has a bit of venom to it. Better to burn on the wing than stooped upon a ladder with some Moloch prince in a three piece suit…
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.