Tag Archives: Blog

Pixelated Cartoon Experiences

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Bursting into thought, I found myself standing in the middle

of the desert

Joshua trees scattered like gravestones, a prickly contrast
against the red earth and the vibrant blue sky

I found myself walking forward, or at least in a direction
other than ‘avoidance’

Rocks littered the earth underfoot, granular shapes of all
kind squished into nothing from my passing

Sunshine beating down on shoulders and face, not overbearing
but pleasant like the way it might feel to sink down into a hot bath or wrap up
in a blanket fresh out of the dryer

Finally at peace, even if alone and lost within the reality
unfolding

Large pairs of lips floated overhead, hanging like clouds; smiling
slightly, teeth shining, biting and tensing – not disagreeably – but seemingly mimicking
each movement until they were one of the same

The heavens swayed by makeshift appearances, pixelated
cartoon experiences; all attention must wander…

Associating self, wondering if there’s an existing connection
to the hovering mouths waiting for a time and a space to speak

If maybe this was a sign of a new beginning; a nudge of encouragement
to find a voice and release the vaporous toxins that have been progressively
choking any chance for a breath of fresh air…

Reflecting on the experience like a photograph – remembering
how each pair of lips laid sprawled out and suspended overhead; looking for a confidante
like a lonely and abandoned kite

I am grateful for turning another year older 💕

‘Livin’ On a Pear’ Out Now – The Fancy Pears Update

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I’ve been working a lot with my band The Fancy Pears so I haven’t had the opportunity to organize myself into magical thoughts of penned realization BUT we released our first album “Livin’ On a Pear” this past Saturday. We’ve been working on it for almost a year, learning how to mix it ourselves before finishing it up. The album is set to be available for streaming on Spotify in a week or so but in the meantime, we’ve posted it on our website: www.thefancypears.com

The Fancy Pears | High Noon Saloon | 11/19/17

Tanis

This song is loosely based on the Pacific Northwest Stories Podcast series ‘Tanis.’ Tim and I binged listened to the Podcast when we first found out about it and as it consumed our thoughts, we succumbed to its magic and came up with the melody and lyrics. 

Somewhere, in the atomic ocean

Floating in a sideways motion

The fisherman had lost his bet

His story, told across the land

 

Spinning, some new age logic

Stolen from ancient knowledge

Seventeen upon his head

The bookman finally met his match

 

Holy, you know I feel so holy

If only, the sky would hold me

Arms outstretched and smiling proud

The gambler fell straight to the ground

 

Beauty, you know I’ve seen true beauty

Flowing right straight through me

The runner cried and shook his head

I’ll never see that place again

 

Sunsweat

I wrote the lyrics and the melody to this during my first winter in Wisconsin. Most of the story is true other than me dreaming about it being hot; perhaps it was all a mirage. 

I was sitting on the front porch today

Feeling alone and kind of lame

Sunsweat dripped down my face

Cold sheen on the water’s glass

 

A clown on a bike, passed me by

With two others riding behind

A barking dog chased them all

They were there and then they weren’t

 

Do you feel the sun today?

Am I going crazy?

 

I stumbled coming out the door

And scraped my face along the earth

Light blinds, something burns my eyes

Sunsweat and blood trickle down

 

Field of Hearts

The lyrics for this song were based off of a piece I wrote several years ago. The Fancy Pears filmed it at a haunted house in Madison, Wisconsin. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HFuZ9c5bCJ4 

I could feel the cracks

Like I was a thin piece of glass

Fragile fingers enclose the frame

Bright eyes follow through the pane

 

In the field of hearts

There is a queen above us all

Shading the light with her advertised wisdom

In the field of hearts

There is a queen standing tall

She assumed the battle won

With all her fiends around us

 

Led by the wordsmith in a hat

Guided by thoughts that drive us mad

White rabbit whiskers lead the path

Counting time as it turns back

 

In the field of hearts

There is a queen above us all

Shading the light with her advertised wisdom

In the field of hearts

There is a queen standing tall

She assumed the battle won

With all her fiends around us

 

Off with her head, singing

Off with her head

To lay above our bed

Off with her head

 

Off with her head, singing

Off with her head

To lay above our bed

Off with her head

 

 

As Told by the Owl

We live in a fucked up society.

 

Bluebird across the water

Come and play with me

Let me have one song to sing

Underneath your tree

Old red tail hawk flew by

Shadow in the leaves

A belly hunting to satisfy

Hovering over me

 

In the graylight of the hour

Will you follow me?

A devil’s waiting for you here

To take you in your sleep

Go on and don’t look back

Cry away your fears

The wind will keep your feathers dry

All throughout the years

 

Up above the treetops

Here you sit with me

The darkness keeps us closer

The stars within our reach

Look up now little one

Pay no mind to me

The moon will greet your spirit home

Follow the light to see

 

Shine on

 

I am grateful for inspiration ❤

Soul of Martyr

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Unknown Artist

Oh, phantom memories in their ever-haunting ways

Seeping colorful dreams that paint the chance of escape

I surrender this skin, burnt flesh reformed into something pleasant

A soul of martyr to remain a lost lover for centuries

 

Thin layers of time have folded in this simple state of mind

Senses attacked by fables now threatening to embalm hindsight

Since when did we decide to accept fate as bestowed by the heavens?

I forfeit my role in consciousness to prove my dedication

 

For thy heart, erase these foreign layers of today

We are one in the same as we were yesterday

No wiser in understanding the common assemblage

Forever incomplete in the art of mental association

 

Consume this World, learn to inwardly imbibe

There’s poison in the feelings thickening our minds

Only a few need to forget so the rest will survive

You must continue, I choose action in sacrifice

 

I am grateful for you ❤

The Fancy Pears – New Music Video

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My band released a video yesterday for our song ‘Field of Hearts.’ This was such a fun experience, we recorded all of it at Olin Park in Madison, Wisconsin. I learned a lot about videography and editing, including how awkward it is to be on camera…hellooooo close-ups!! But overall, I am so proud to have been apart of this project and I’m grateful for all of the help we received in making it possible.

The inspiration behind the story might be interesting to some of my long-term WordPress friends, we loosely based the idea from a piece I wrote and published on here March 31, 2013: Muse Writer – The Queen of Hearts

Looking back now, I posted this three years prior to the day that The Fancy Pears played our first show at the High Noon Saloon in Madison and almost four years prior from the present. Crazy how everything seems to come full circle!

mind Over matter

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cassieandwillfinal

It pours

in and out of consciousness

As I float in the world

of imagination

Where hearts beat

as one in the collective

Accumulating experience of

feelings to differentiate

Determination brings thoughts

closer to the surface

Where they trail out of mouth

and into the heavens

 

and we’re free

to do what we want

when we want to do it

 

Knowing only self and what

I have witnessed

Trying to relate with that

knowledge and gain

some understanding

Of what it means to be

HUMAN

All of this in one

form of interaction of

opening soul up to

Anyone searching…?

Active listeners who

appreciate the intensity

Of another without

the employment of taking

each gift and knowingly unwrapping

Choosing to discard rather

than salvage it

 

and we’re free

to do what we want

when we want to do it

 

Just a simple task of

mind Over matter

 

 

I am grateful for The Fancy Pears ❤

http://www.thefancypears.com

http://www.facebook.com/thefancypears

Teeter-Totter

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seesaw

http://i1.wp.com/www.mbird.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/06/seesaw.jpg

 

It’s your turn to rise higher on the teeter-totter

The momentum slows as the weight of mind gets heavier

up, down, up, down

We follow the motions accordingly

Pushing self harder off ground to claim the highest authority

Friends on the playground, enemies of the mind

Must be stronger! faster! smarter! to WIN this life

up, down, up, down

Puppets to one another as our fragile strings sway

Sneaking in and out of thought as the hanging tendrils fray

Assuming ownership of answers from our unasked questions

Admiring self to prove worth, especially when others show weakness

up, down, up, down

Your success doesn’t endanger the promises of my own

Your intelligence doesn’t discredit what I’ve learned

Your beauty doesn’t make me any less than myself

The hate builds with every created comparison we choose to accept

up, down, up, down

The balance shifts as we continue our impasse

Schoolkids fighting for domination of attention

Stopping to take notice when opinions of ridicule seem best

Using chance to display rank with each hasty judgement

up, down, up………………………………………..

 

I am grateful for some quiet alone time. ❤

Insert Title V

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I can’t write for fear of a broken tongue, burning as a

Spiraling monster spilling out confused thoughts;

Ideas traveling from top of head to roof of mouth

 

Why speak when the noise is heavy, serving only as a

Constant reminder of fragile ears hearing rumors;

Weighted down truth from what is and what isn’t

 

Maybe blinded eyes see more than what we perceive of them

—————————————————

Where do you house your hate?

To be pulled out when needed

To lose mouth for virtue of wit

Or, what you choose to believe as such…

———————————————–

I slipped on the edge and fell

Down into the hole of hell

No one dares to look into the well

Claiming innocents of ourselves

—————————————————

To read is to acknowledge The Others, controlled as

Writers in waiting to avoid the contact with oily flesh;

Skin’s difference of one person vs the next

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Hate

I feel it beat

Break, burn, bleed

The heart is weak

 

Greed

It’s not me

I am healthy

How disgusting

 

Anger

Or is it despair?

I wander aimlessly

Deciphering the difference

 

Hope

Always constant

Perhaps a bit cynical

But it’s there

Monthly Archives: April 2014 / April 2015

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Monthly Archives: April 2014

Eldorado

Posted on April 30, 2014 by MuseWriter

How long is an acceptable

timeframe for one to attain

his or her prize for the life

that is hoped for and wished?

 

The CEO sleeps in his

10,000 thread count silky sheets

Head on pillow while sweet

dreams fill his eyes with happiness

Remembering from a time

of beginning, when wallet was empty

Now, blessed from earning

his ultimate happiness of affording any luxury

 

The sister of spirit sitting in her

house of god reading her psalms

Dedicating her life to holiness

and many moments spent “alone”

Waiting her entire life to finally

compliment herself in her

obtainment of Heaven;

loving everyone and everything

 

What of joy, what of this true love?

A mission to accomplish for any

foolish boy or girl, romanticizing and

getting lost in the many lovely fairy tales

Or, motivated by goals of self

Whether selfless or not

Words are not to be trusted in

circumstances such as this

 

Four seasons depicting times of change

Flashes of life and death celebrations

Individuals interchanging ideas of an Eldorado;

Mine, has always been the same

 

Scalp — Toenails

Posted on April 29, 2014 by MuseWriter

The circuit board highways

Traveling in and out of the

pores on

top of scalp,

Dissecting time through body

in a confusing arrangement of

directional pale yellow street-lamps,

Down to the tips of any of the

various toenails

These lines narrating the interstates

paved out by fate

Destiny as it’s seen from the

focuses of those meant

to see, to ponder

to create

 

Monthly Archives: April 2015

 the look

Posted on April 30, 2015 by MuseWriter

The look, the stare

It’s there it’s there

Dark eyes questioning

The response isn’t felt

Practiced glances glare

With judgement and disgust

I hope you’re happy

in your tower of guilt

As you sit upon your throne

of conquests

Good luck to your

future heart for it is

shrunken

Just like all the rest

The look the stare

It’s there it’s there

 

Three Crows Bathing in the River

Posted on April 14, 2015 by MuseWriter

Walking along the trail I saw

Three crows bathing in the river

Their feathers ruffled from the wind and water

A brilliant blackness glistening in the sun

Mimicking the water’s surface

With its diamonds and mirrors of light

I stumbled forward

Tripping on the unseen root

My eyes focused on the

Three Black Birds

Staring back at me

While the scenery started

Morphing into something different

Than my original interpretation

Of the river, of the flock

A slimy sheen covered the water

The sun masking my first glances

The distance preventing acknowledgement of other senses

The stench burning into my nostrils

The three black birds standing proud

With their beaks pointing towards the sky

Then I realized

The murder was actually

Three white doves covered in mud

 

Monthly Archives: April 2013

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Meteor Shower

Posted on April 30, 2013 by MuseWriter

Walking, marching, feet trembling

Knocking from the contact touching earth to soul

Connecting in knowledge of grace and truth

Staring straight ahead, calculating a destination;

a sunny piece of grass in between the trees

I continue until I fall, sit, in the middle of the light

Ablaze, controlled, alone

I notice the clouds ahead, glowing in various shades of pink and purple

Puffy masses being fast-forwarded into movement

Tracking the centuries of the world below;

and noting everyone who stops to embrace life, those who love

A scene so powerful, so moving that the ground engulfs me

Pillowing my head and offering protective covering

As if I melted into the soil;

one body, one earth

A lover’s touch to penetrate the warmth and to fuel the strength within

One kindred spirit, a gift of sacrifice

A black night illuminated by stars

On display during the latest meteor shower.

Take a peek…

Posted on April 29, 2013 by MuseWriter

To pluck a single strand, a smooth blade of grass
Cool to the touch, feather light
Consuming perfectness of the Artwork, feeling it seep in while braiding the stem through each finger
The force of pressure, squeezing the drink from one of nature’s mysteries, the nectar of life
Learning to make a plant bleed, humanizing, understanding
Splitting the shaft down the middle
Opening the body up to take a peek inside
Using the sharp edge of a fingernail to conquer and divide
Planting new seeds to grow, to survive.

Connections

Posted on April 26, 2013 by MuseWriter

What is it, that pounds in the pit of stomach, that tastes a bit metallic?
A sharp bite to eat that brings a couple of drops of tears to the corners of my eyes
Reflecting images of memories being replayed in my peripheral vision;
Tempting constant sideways glances to count down the minutes
for just that one look
that one picture
Trying to capture it all,
As a ghost, facing everyone backsides front, all wrong
Offering open hands with determination; consternation?
Always waiting for just a part of an explanation
to feel welcomed, even after spilling out any truth or story
Disregarding modern ways and dialing the numbers of fate on the pay phone, by the theatre where
the grand opening of the new story is featuring
About a boy, who grew up to be a man
A mortal without the limitations of the jaded, the wasted
A new lover’s exhale offering every fresh breath a small prayer;
Requesting them to be sacred gusts of wind to travel,
In a straight line to those connected.

Master Illuminaries

Posted on April 25, 2013 by MuseWriter

I am, just as you are, as we are,
A cluster of master illuminaries, the various torch holders of destiny, a group of multiple ultimate miracles;
Shining their grace into the soil of the Earth
The layers of flesh and dirt, that echo off of the platform at the base of the mountains,
And jump off the cliff into the valleys; Dramatically encircling the territories
Like some sort of scout or invader
The sweet nectar that lies breathlessly awaiting, seeks, is seeking, the steady stream that flows into the sea
The vein that carries the rhythm of Her predictable heartbeat, the blood of her soul
A refreshing swim to remind Her that She’s alive

Forgetting

Posted on April 25, 2013 by MuseWriter

Comfortable, but forced, as if saluting in attention to the flag;

The fabric and the thread of our destiny

What colors will remain when the skies start falling?

I join the ranks of concrete statues,

balancing fact from fiction, truth, or worse, lies

I find, a certain picture brewing, floating to the viewpoint of my eyes

A world of a land and of seas,

A world of guiltless lives and sheltered, coffined deaths;

Acknowledging:

This idea that we are given a reality that fights the tendril hair of knowledge that leads to igniting what we dream

A World with no pipelines, no shipwrecks, no signs of life from anywhere but

From the heart of the Earth, her core of gold,

Pulsating fiery energy to her children she placed above

Who then use it, waste it, ignore it

Lines of tiny ants that march in troops to conquer new goals

To abolish anything original, unless the idea suits the “world,”

However many times She claims She has never once requested any help,

only our love

We seek nourishment, encouragement but trap ourselves by binding to the shackles of narcissism and disappointment,

to add those to the list of accomplishments,

Checking off each box as another step into the assimilation,

Forgetting that there will always be something, anything,

Worth listening to,

To fight for.

 

 

A Starry Night

Posted on April 23, 2013 by MuseWriter

4-8-13

Sitting at a bistro table, in one of the two chairs

Picturing a view of a diamond sky, and being entertained by the crowded streets of the night

My pointed toe traced the outlines of the cobbled stone,

A piece of concrete to record the history of the street;

raw, shiny, from all of the feet before me.

The waiter, a skinny, balding man brought my water and a straw

Two separate pieces laid out before me on the bistro table.

On the marble top that is speckled in brown, beige, and tiny geometric shapes of green

A sturdy image brought to life by Van Gogh in a dream;

Of make-believe, what we seek to define as real

To replay the conversations of the passer-bys of the night, and to question, dissect them.

As my fingers fuddled with the straw paper

Twisted the object, crumpling it, as if trying to figure it out too,

Only in touch and sensitivity;

Making common sense out of inanimate objects, and feelings

Trying to keep my hands busy, to steady the mind focused on the table itself, the bubble that I put in place to surround

Ignoring those who live in the apartments above, my reverie

And not looking at the others who may be:

Eating.

Dreaming.

Misdirectionally Thinking.

Bleating;

There’s nothing worse than distractions during our most important conversations, interactions.

The bubble succeeds in sheltering the lost minds who find themselves wondering,

always thinking, about everything.

But it’s tight, sometimes suffocating;

The force of the task creates awkward lapses in recreating,

Anything sensible at all.

It’s amazing how the barriers we create can feel like all of the weight of the World.

I fumbled with the wrapper, daring a few glances towards the doorway,

The gate of the future, blocked off to the sight of everyone, except me, from my seat

Still no one entered.

Losing patience of strength and pride, I contemplated rising, leaving, escaping.

Too many thoughts are too many enough.

But then, at the height of my anxiety, almost the last step up before the leap,

I felt a hand on my shoulder and knew that you had arrived.

The constant flow of penetration disappeared at that moment, and it was quiet.

It’s unmistakably rare to find ones to share the weight of the world.

To not feel alone at a picturesque marble bistro table,

Underneath a starry night.

Heartbeat

Posted on April 23, 2013 by MuseWriter

The echoing last seconds of a boom of thunder lingered within the waking moments of memory
Flashes of light blinding, even through painted eyelids, afraid to open
A storm of importance, demanding to be heard, to be seen, felt
A single dance partner impatient to start moving
I collapsed into awareness, jumping out into the blackness;
For the moon and the stars had shed away their shine to give all attention to the flashes that penetrated the night
The white explosions of blue, gold, and green;
Shards flying off into the fragments of the living; Earth
The Storm, expressing its determination of telling a story, trying to be heard
Given the brief luxury of the creation of wind and water,
Binding air particles that recklessly spin faster, upward, to start a rhythm that’s trance-like,
Blinding; pounding: the lover’s heartbeat.

Boundaries

Posted on April 6, 2013 by MuseWriter

How many steps ahead is the subconscious intellect?
The telescopic third-eye,
Blinking into an open window of time
Where everything means nothing,
Of what we see;
Of what we seek and believe.
A hazy glow, encircles the picture playing in front of me:
Of a child chasing a remote-control car,
Of the cardinal that sits at my window,
The little girl that mourns over the dead bird;
What is it, that we dream?
To exist within the conformities of time, and place,
To understand what it means that nothing has boundaries;
And to be a slave to them all.

Murder

Posted on April 5, 2013 by MuseWriter

Looking down, I see a tiny blade protruding from my chest

Wounded

Watch, as the thick crimson flows down in a thirsty trail from my heart

Dying

The pool, turning black at my feet,

As in the representation of the extinction of life; and it is

The tar-like edges clinging to my skin,

Covering the pink flesh

I’m falling

Fading out,

Clouding vision,

And I am alone

Dead

The murderer, refusing to sacrifice, ran away

 

April 2, 2013

Posted on April 2, 2013 by MuseWriter

If there were an instrument of Heaven,

It wouldn’t be the harp,

nor the flute, the clarinet, or the trombone.

It would be the piano;

Mixing the different moments of sound

Into the stories of the world

to flow freely, stream-like, winding around the various twisted letters.

To caricaturize their meaning

Inserting contextual lines instead of placing images,

to understand, is to appreciate the living;

What it means to live.

I love

so as to find the love in others,

the ones left undiscovered to me yet.

The majority of friends who,

compliment the shared community of time spent

Creating;

Minds of philosophical masters;

like in the great classics.

To express the knighthood among the learned;

to continue the traditions.

Who is bothered to stand taller,

than the limits of physical proportions?

I know I am.

Red Light

Posted on April 2, 2013 by MuseWriter

Today, I felt the kiss of spring

As if I were embraced by the woman in the wind,

She hugged me

I could feel her warmth;

A motherly touch that promised of love.

 

Her long fingers strewn through my hair

Catching on a few amber curls

My windows down, to stay connected

I heard her talking, mixed within the music

The noninvasive compilation of instruments playing;

In ceremony, the birds chirping

Along with the exact rhythm and melody,

It felt like Heaven.

 

A minute at a red light to offer a moment of reflection,

And prayer

One where the Universe finally understood;

Could feel my need,

Then forced Its hymn

The music playing a light piano with:

Translucent waves of harmony

I happened to notice the sky at that moment

A blue so pure,

Completely magical

I could get lost in that ocean forever;

The only view to supplement the subconscious listening.

 

But as it seems now

At least most days

Reality consumes

And I’m forced to follow

The line of traffic

When the light turns green.

Puzzle Pieces

Posted on April 1, 2013 by MuseWriter

The rounded puzzle edges were spread out across the table

Their splash of mixed colors thrown carelessly together

An explosion of rainbow that added up to form the big picture

Of some unimportant field with blooming wildflowers

As a portrayal, it’s not an example of terrific photographic artwork;

Just a field, another grassy plain that awakens us to its declarations,

By sprouting colorful rainbow temptations

Or, at least that’s what I gathered, but it was the actual puzzle fragments;

Themselves, that caused stop for attention

How can cardboard evoke such feeling?

Relating to the trials and triumphs of picking up the pieces,

And saying farewell to the parts of me that I’ve lost;

The missing puzzle shapes that imperfect the overall vision

There is no reasonable order of the pieces that remain

Put together, they display empty holes that have been dug down deep to the pits of Hate

The heat cauterizing each new breach to be plugged with a distorted rosy scar,

Never to be puzzled over; as if in punishment of losing the allotment forever

But mixed within together, the puzzle pieces put into a pile,

They collectively seem whole

There is no such thing as a

missing core outlined by a cutoff print of green weeds and tall grass.