Monthly Archives: August 2015

Happy Friday the 32nd?

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Happy Friday the 32nd?

Band Website

Hey Everyone, welcome to Friday! I wanted to send out a quick message to promote a band I love named ‘The Chromaphones.’ They are based out of Madison, Wisconsin and give off a funk/jam band vibe. They are releasing their newly recorded album tomorrow (Recorded, mixed, and mastered by drummer Will Bailey) titled “Friday the 32nd.” I am super stoked about it!

The album is titled after the same song of its name as an instrumental, written by keyboardist Graham Marlowe. Lead vocals and guitar are shared by Tim Coughlin Jr and Cheyne Trost, who also switch out bass between songs. A couple of my favorites are “Don’t Wanna Know,” “Venus,” “Unrequited,” and “My Vitamins.”

I am so proud of these guys and I can’t wait to share their music with you.

The Chromaphones’ music video for “This City”:

Will Bailey Productions

Enjoy your weekends!

I am grateful for music ❤

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Monthly Archives: August 2013

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Oh, How I Cry

Posted on August 26, 2013 by MuseWriter

Oh, how I long to cry

To shed these tears as memories, to ignore the pain seen;

Felt from afar

How many families suffer?

Innocents, children in pain?

Can we pretend that we’re still hungry

and feed each other

blissful responses so as to push one step

closer to the unfamiliarity;

Of how peaceful humanity can be?

Oh, how I long to cry

One tear lost for each fallen soul

Those silently attacked while sleeping in their homes

Laying in their beds, dreaming up the stories that the

Collective consciousness strives to see

Are we so cold?

Oh, how I long to cry

We are the same you and I

Hearts struggling to see the good;

To see the love that they try to hide

This isn’t a battle against one and two

Nor an epidemic of hatred

Are we so eager to be told what to think?

Are we really so blind?

Oh, how I long to cry

Even worlds apart the devastation is clear

A time is coming, there’s no room for fear or

fighting over distractions of mercy

Would you show mercy?

Is there anybody listening?

To those screaming out, wailing cries

To satisfy the wicked planning;

Oh, how I cry.

I am grateful for every second of life. ❤

 

Stomach Flu

Posted on August 23, 2013 by MuseWriter

Legs straddling the porcelain
One hand back, pulling up sweaty strands in a tight fist
The other, lost in the confusion of the movement
Body shaking, collapsing, suffocating
A putrid stench opens eyes to another wave of volatile cleansing
The bathroom floor has never felt so private
Deliriously making way back to bed
To dream of the reality of the moment
Until feet understand the urgency of the next second before
Eyes open
Another dance into submission

I am grateful for Jess. ❤

 

Foreshadows

Posted on August 23, 2013 by MuseWriter

Take a stab in the dark

To see which holes bleed

To see how long before I start silently screaming

wheezing out all of the damages done

Those perceivable wounds that ooze a contemptuous red hue of thick liquid

that slowly caresses skin

before falling down

Escaping body, rejected from the living

Breathing, suffocating from the metallic smell

hauntingly drifting into each nostril

to inhale one’s self

Foreshadowing what’s to come?

I am grateful for change. ❤

 

I’ve Always Been a Spider

Posted on August 22, 2013 by MuseWriter

Weaving the web in my head

Tying and twisting all of the knots, the

suspicions forming their shapes

and the confusions of everyone

as they stare into the transparent work of art

glistening in the sun

I guess I’ve always been a spider

Announcing to the world that even the definable delicate are strong.

I am grateful for sunny afternoon walks. ❤

Doubt

Posted on August 21, 2013 by MuseWriter

The first stage of doubt:
Being forced to recognize the limitations
Of time and distance
A one hour flight to travel into the depths of mind;
Second guessing position of desire
And what you want
The incessant rain keeps my feet wet, creating
Dirty tracks that lay out the roadmap of the steps carefully placed and manipulated
Just like want and desire?
Knowing the pain to grow stronger with each layer of question, confusion
I sometimes wonder if there’s any strength available for purchase
The expanse between your world and mine is great
I don’t know if I’m capable of ignoring the empty space surrounding
Even though I crave it, I can’t stand being alone
Or, the forgotten thoughts of those who claim ownership

I am grateful for every thought. ❤

 

Paths

Posted on August 20, 2013 by MuseWriter

How many paths must we cross,

Must we stumble through;

Guessing which part of the fork is best positioned for the tastiest bite?

To chew on the destination of thoughts that enable blood to pump and flow

Parallel to the bordered trail like a stream;

A continuous reminder of water and the other elements one person needs to survive

Removing the requirements of life and focusing on all that is surrendered

To a compartmentalized pandora’s box

Categorizing important cargo in a wooden reminder of vulnerability

Dried salmon candle wax puddled on the cracked surface

Staining the purity of all that embraces my mind

I am grateful for friendly neighbors. ❤

 

Cupid’s Enlightenment

Posted on August 18, 2013 by MuseWriter

Skinny fingers grasp the threaded line

Pulling back the thin fragments with a practiced hand

Eyes focused, not on object of manipulation but within the two figures out of reach;

The one and the two of the mission

The Amor, as he’s called, marks each piece of the puzzle with his target;

The cross point to aim so as not to confuse the scattered faces and bodies

Humming a familiar lullaby tune

Another mindless act to balance the shot

Calculating wind and distance, counting down breaths until the perfect moment

Two arrows let loose from his single bow

A skillful act of original tradesmanship of the god of love, son of Venus

Forgetting his resentment to his indifference, he contemplates what will happen to his latest victims

Unusually curious enough to sit upon his gargoyle perch to see the story unfold

Imagining his sport as a work of art and reflecting on the murals dedicated to his masterpieces of past

As an excited child he waits, watches as one lover finds another

Two hearts beating to the similar thoughts projected from their maker’s intense stare

Mystified, he trembles, he questions mortality and the gift of happiness

Longing to understand the passion of pain brought about by the penetration of his pointy arrowhead;

Staking claim as the narrator of their story

The reality of his genius keeps his heart beating

Even without the possibility of ever surrendering to his own magic.

I am grateful for Cupid’s art. ❤

Most People

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Most People

Most people only ever come into our lives just to be temporary distractions. These walking, breathing, and talking amusements stimulate action to help escape the shackles of the monotony of everyday survival. The Universe perceives these occurrences as the heightened view into the inner workings of an individual human being. Two people can come together as separate entities to try and satisfy some sort of need, whether that means physical or emotional and/or both. The best result of these acquaintances only amount to brief, inconsequential encounters with their mind-numbingly, two-dimensional connections. The moments these relations afford are based more off of the selfish emotional responses to one’s own goal of betterment, instead of relating and tuning into the actual character of a being other than self. The soul, when bound into itself, enables the body and mind to regulate the creation of happiness, or at least to settle for the satisfying accomplishment of instant gratification in finding various methods to not feeling/being alone. Euphoria is met, boredom ensues, and the people disperse to find their next source of entertainment meant to be forgotten.

Most people live in debt to this life, never seeking out nor accepting in the sensations of knowing something other than self. As the Human ages, daily demands slowly attempt to terminate the innate innocence and curiosity that we inherently practiced as children. We begin to avoid the situations and the people that threaten to upset the defining factors of what we choose to believe in as “me;” separating oneself out of the collective human race and claiming stature as “other.”  But as other, we project an estrangement of disconnectedness, a thick and impenetrable essence that effectively blocks out any passing beam of light willing to shine. Refusing sensations of meeting skin to skin to the point of ignoring the opportunity for a friendly handshake or hug. Refusing any chance of mental stimulation for fear of vulnerability of giving away more of self than wanted.

Most People become static, lost in their hollows; the hollows being defined as the shadow World. This suffocating place where indifference and apathy are born. The bodies and minds found there are lost, having chosen a reality without the attachment of soul, to soul. The shadows are comforting to those who cannot handle the light or the dark. The “others” hide in the shadows, allowing the numbing embrace to cocoon them within their wished-for complacency; never inspired, never inspiring.

But what of us who don’t fit into these black, white, and gray planes of existence? What of us who can relate to all of the moments of awareness; never asking for the experiences but seemingly overwhelmed with them throughout the entirety of life. Tired empathetic souls who were fortunate enough to be selected out of the billions at random(?), whether grateful for the gift or not. What is our fate, when the majority of ‘Self’ is nowhere around to mix within the questioning contemplations floating out of our heads and into the collectiveness of our World?

We are connected, you and I. We share a bond that neither one of us has claimed, or claims to understand. Both of our souls are struggling, battling against the ailments of the Human inadequacies of mind and body. All of the while attempting to recall our past lives and their accomplishments and failures. Giving into the passions of feeling to please our insatiable souls. We do not label ourselves with the mundane and we do not settle for complacency. Our destiny was planned so that we would have the option of choosing our pathway to death, instead of living a life already dead.

We exist in this moment because we believe that we do and I believe in you. I love you. I love you in more than just the verbal classification of the word. I love you in a state of complete openness and vulnerability. I love you more than what is said between one person to another. I love your soul. I love your passion. I love you. I send this love out because it’s not said enough. We should be grateful for the intensity of love, not afraid, not jealous, not embarrassed, not hated.

What we have together, what we have experienced together, is more than average; we are above being typical. And with that knowledge of self-actualization (“self” describing the bondage of our souls into one), we can become lost within the ideals of moral absolution and the stigmas of society. After all, we have been chosen to feel for the World so feel it ALL we must. The highs become shared expressions of elation, and the lows that we connect on, push us apart.

I don’t want to push you away and I don’t want you to push me away. Our infantile shortcomings are at no fault to any of us, we’ve been awarded these roles for a reason. You are not just another temporary distraction in life, you have shared your soul and I have shared mine. That alone is more than Most People can say. But in doing so, we will always and forever be connected; this lifetime and the next. Perhaps we’ve been connected since the beginning of time.

You are my everyday companion, a shining light to keep me from giving into my curiosity about the shadows and any morbid thought that seeks to destruct. We are higher beings who consider the philosophy of life to be easier than surviving here outside of the mind. We are not enemies nor do I claim any. You are my family and I will always love you, and in that, always accept love from you.

I am grateful for changes of reflection ❤