The waters wash away all that remains. Resolution and awakening. The soul must breath. The spirit lives on.
Peach is the Color of Blood Sunsets
Call it ambient if you will. I’m fine with it. Long, peaceful, an orchestration for the many sunsets I bleed into on the western coast far above and beyond the sprays and honks of San Francisco, before Orange County came to the Sonoma and Mendocino coast and fenced in the glory, before the cartels took over the mountains for manic weed production surrounded by automatic rifles, barbed wire, booby traps and other things of the Reagan War on Drugs. Dumb. Just a dumb thing to do, hand over vision and replace it with knives and BMWs.
All in all, it’s a tone poem.
Prayer for Peace: Among the Streams
This is more in I guess you call it a book of songs, Prayer for Peace. This one is carried along by the mellotron with strings. I played this third section after I felt the bar that identifies a Prayer for Peace needed a base, something to carry it along into the spirit, not the heart or mind. So yes, I continue to write music rather than poetry and it is kind of strange. I have never gone this long away from the poem itself by moving the poem into being an instrumental. I hope whoever may hear this finds the intention realized.
Tone poem and prayer. Suite for Piano and Mellotron
Sometimes words are lost, meanings confused and everything becomes twisted out of shape. So, music.
I pray for healing and that the Veil of Mary protect and speed her body and soul to the beauty that is her.
Prayer For Peace in Her Dreaming (quartet for EK)
It began as part of series of solo piano and poems Prayer For Peace, as I had said I would, but then me being me other sounds and music kept drifting in like a song of the planets, as Spinoza heard angels across the galaxy, such was this. Just a quartet of peace and love for a beloved whose voice and eyes have mesmerized since we were teens, yes even to this day. It is truly better to love than anything else in the world, for our friends and our beloved(s).
Body Love
This was intended to be a short piece on love. As I played and added more instrumentation and deepened the lower end the more fun it became; it grew as I found myself singing whatever that may be from my throat and lungs along with the harp, grand piano, strings and cello.
I hope it is good. I hope you all enjoy it. Just let it play. Just let the sandalwood incense burn and find your way to where the waves seem to boil and rise and carry you home wherever that may be. For me it is a scene in the shape of body love; of sex, of steam, of the sweetness in her breath.
Cloudscapes Across the Hills Below Trey Mountain
what is it we see when a hilltop is mounted, when we hike or climb, we sit and meditate upon the glory of this land, to cease for a while and look upon one another, upon the land and sky,we breath and there is love, if only there is love…..
Incarnated Standings Of Dream Towards Life (For Aaron Wegelin)
I am working on a “book”, an opus, of extended symphonic compositions for midi and piano. Each is firmly born from the 1970s expansion of keyboards from nerdiness to all out amazing and inspiring such as Klaus Schulze and Keith Emerson. Everything rises from their works, for me. Just getting used to working with an Akai MPD32 graciously loaned to me from Chewy Jarad Blanton, and Logic Pro which is sort of Garage Band with a hint of steroids. Since steroids have either helped or is destroying my life is yet to be seen. I pray, help.
So, Aaron is an old friend in food, music, talking and the soul of what is a friendship. We had a long talk yesterday, he’s a Ringo inspired drummer, so I played this with two separate percussion, you know the set up Ringo and Bill Buford style assembly. There’s a lot to say about this particularly inspired music as Art and Artist are not at all in two sets of existence, the sign and the signified are the same. Hegelian thing, if I may put it in philosophical theory. How we hear and how we compose, how we play and how we listen, with whom to share and those to keep it far away from by all possible means. Why? I just don’t want people who dig another singular form of music whereas I hear the world of music, of life, as being this amazing symphony. We just gather up the notes, like these autumn leaves fluttering around; and yeah, filling the gutters. Hard to count, to measure the time start to finish as inspired art to hours of engineering and editing, replaying, over and over till now. Is this final? Only the Holy Spirit can fathom, but in poetry, food, music, Catholicism, philosophy and dear friends who just love being friends. There has never been a need for friends to just randomly be mean or pull a lecture on public relations out when I have no idea who I insulted and why I am to be marginalized. A great insult was stated a couple of weeks back. It cut deep and was unnecessary. I was feeling the heaviness of August, the cruelest month, taking it’s time declawing me and drowning all I love far into September. Words are organic, they live. When one does not understand the living nature of language they are at their most negative while thinking what was spoken was some sort of revelation when for me it was a dull and useless set of words that are always the cheap shot someone takes at me when they have little else to say.
Here I am, in mirror to Thomas Merton on Catholicism and Buddhism, living with a Jew, hanging out with Artists and the like who left God long ago, staring into incense smoke, praying and thanking the Lord for every pain given me this life. My only real prejudice is against those who willingly harm others, gossips. . Pride of man.
If I’m Here to Say Good Morninge
Thank you for becoming a better site by all the new works and poets appearing these days. At ne point I had given up it was so full of bs and spammers.
in here I am loving the new poems. Please keep including me, thinking of me and adding me to your lists. I have over 600 print published works and most many are here in my site. I change and add in sequence now so it is not all in one place.
I need you. Each of you are important to the musical and poetic process.
Thank you, dearly each beloved one of you.
Love Song A.M.
In The Morning So Fair,
Towards My Love (w/classical guitar, osmanthus incense)
In the morning
you were fair
I felt towards you
this love
this day
(there’s a voice only version one as well
Screw it, nothing shared in a while, silence and me, and please for all spirit if you have hate to share then silence please. Sad people tend to think me mad, then read John Donne and say what is. I only want to share this love, gently, oddly only towards the angel of my sleep (share if you wish), really are not that many I feel close enough to to share beyond here but also that’s more work that the work,the art, the life of an artist singing good morning, that’s all. Sharing is a good thing. Please share. I fear raising the ire of too many again. I don’t mean like “screw it'” to you all here in lovely Word Press land. I have been in WP a long time and FINALLY more fearless poets and scammers are showing up It is heartening to read as many good and hopefully good poems as I have in the past month. Peace and Art on my companions. In Arr I love you all.
Please share
oops, towards the save for timeline later or straight to delete, and it is cool, it really is, live John Donne, Waltlvi Whitman, Saint John Perse, Novalis, Stefan Georg, Ambrose Bierce, Richard Brautagen, Kazantzakis, Hesse, Shelly, Keats, Byron, Tom Robbins, Patti Smith, Sylvia Plath, writings of Milarepa, Jim Harrison. I will not name all because they are vainly skipped across a lake while most having read and felt maybe two poems but hey, it’s all who are what they are, I’ve been called mad/crazy/weird since I was nine so what does it mean to me today, just more of the same from people who don’t try to read or understand, much less open the buried box of pain, but do try and they just cannot see my heart beating when the words strike and hurt or give me power, come, wave the wand and climb some climb walls to say 3 words, or leap from a second story window afterwards, yes I am guilty of all. We who are touched upon the forehead at birth have no control but to do our very best to create Love in and as Art. Yes Jason Biggers, I write a lot but I am also a fan of your work, your bloodless big brother, so what does that say my beloved one?. I have stood for your work many times. And will stand again in the future, no matter what. I applaud your brave ventures and the process of becoming. I wish more did.
Chromebook Facebook hates me and just deleted all I wrote for the FIFTH damn them! So if you received repeats hI aate the machine not me, though I know many just enjoy the man hoohaaa.
H Lamar Thomas' Blog 
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