My band The Fancy Pears has released a couple of new songs recently, one titled San Berdu and the other First March, Then Charge. We’re working on an album to be released next year, new keyboard/synth player and all 🍐
Tag Archives: Gratitude
Swimming Ducks
Oh sweltering morning, your humid heat consumes
Beads of sweat rolling freely down spine
Taking over movement
Salty tears sapping spirit and drowning body
Missed opportunities of silence
Of the sky and the trails ablaze above
Office Lights
In the dark of night, the city burned
Lamp haze illuminating out towards alleys and their mysterious corners,
Ordinary objects of notice depending on circumstance
Lining the drive forward one beacon after another
The car encapsulating our secret, you distant
Yellow windows arranged into faces peered down and I just kept thinking,
“how many of those poor lonely bastards are still caged in their towers?”
Whether intentionally or not
It was at this moment that my voice betrayed me
Completely consumed by the lit geometry of society
I didn’t feel your attention, didn’t hear your question
But there I was replying to something worth answering
“I hate it here.”
The last word trailing off into the hum of the car engine
Shadowy fingers of night reaching out and grabbing any response given,
I found myself silenced in the despair of confusion
Bewildered by my bizarre state-of-being
You kept driving to the center of everything
The weight of your hesitation creeping over the center console,
Isolating my thoughts to focus on sensing rather than seeing
As we always tend to do
Eyes glued to the graveled shoulder of pavement
Never daring to confirm if you were still in the car with me,
Knowing and questioning through the silence
Feeling insecure and lost in the absence
…
Thinking back, I’m not sure where I meant by ‘here’
The metropolis mirroring my favorites of experience,
Chicago, New York, Dublin, Miami
Visions design a conglomerate of what it is and what I’d like it to be
Claiming architect to discern the meaning, if any
Retelling the story as if there’s supposed to be an epiphany,
Over and over the memories tickle reasoning
As flashes of office lights dance behind my eyes
I am grateful for car rides ❤
The Fancy Pears – New Music Video
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
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 ❤
Weight
There is only a slight difference
In countenance, as we continue
The sentences that build up
This conversation
As I tell myself it’s only
A hesitant sideways glance that
offers no room for notice,
Or mention, of opinion that the
current moment in time
Weighs more than the last
I am grateful for heavy lifting ❤
Monthly Archives: July 2014
Knock
The repetitive banging
Off-beat but continuously striking
“Wake up!” it says
But I always assume that
it’s all about me
I lay here questioning the urgency
A message to me, to you,
to everybody, the universe
A slew of emotions
tumbling topsy turvy
Penetrating my thoughts and
giving voices to the faces
A conversation of unimportant
sentences that are completely unassociated with anything
worthy of interest
To me, there I go again
The hammering slows as
laughter flows in through
the basement window
Intermixed within the jovial chirping
of the sparrows
Happily munching on the seed
I just purchased
The sWOosh of each car that passes
A different noise adding to
the consistent nonsense draining
my awareness
Proclaiming innocent happiness
Unknowing that not everyone
feels the same
Uninhabitable Hollows
While I find solace in
this empty closet
Sitting on the floor
comfortable and writing
Absently twirling a wayward strand
and chewing on bottom lip
These habitual reminders that
we never really change
(Except maybe our levels of
awareness and perception;
intuition?)
We all sometimes feel the
embarrassment from judgement
Thoughts that solidify
forming concrete structures in
our minds
Uninhabitable geometric spaces
that appear empty and dark
Some days I want to bulldoze
the whole city down
But as they say, the sun
always shines after the night
Illuminating these hollows
within our minds
Power igniting to imagine
new beginnings
Replacing each structure with
rows of flowering trees
Thoughts that I find now as my
hands dig through the soil
to plant the seeds
Preparing myself for future
times of solitude
Just like this
Where I can spend these
precious moments
Smelling the flowers and
enjoying the beauty
Instead of closing in and
retreating to the stories that
never end
“Gas $3.89/gal”
I Sleep
The unpredictable scenario of
scattered checkered boxes of
trees, crops, houses, roads, cities
Every outline seen as a view into the life below
With the imperfect slices of bodies of water
Curvy strands branched out across
the land
Until meeting together in
lakes, ponds, rivers, sounds, oceans
Changing quickly underneath
Unnoticed, as the attention to detail is not as focused
Other senses claiming victor of the current state
of flight;
of mind
A journey in the night, wandering
above treetops, and
whatever else
is stumbling about
Companions to a lonely beast
Hungry for the instinct to keep
flying forward;
or right to left,
sky to ground,
Skimming the surface of one of the
random pools of water;
mirroring the sky,
silver from the darkness
reflecting the moon above
To get a quick drink, or a delicious
bite to eat
Maybe chance a glance at the
furry face in front of me
Slightly distorted by the motion
from the ups and downs
Feeling the touch of sustenance
sliding over nose
Cool, the wetness leaving a residual glove
until air has wiped it away
Lifting up, mouth full and
body light in contentment
the steady push of cold air gliding over
eyes, nose, mouth, ears, tongue
Sucking in the fresh air forcing
its way into lungs
A numbing embrace of throat
to help concentrate the breath
Until wings become heavily satisfied with
the path of flight
Slowly making way to cave or tree
Watching sunrise morning after each evening
then hiding from the vulnerabilities
of the day
When the rest of the world
explores the places that I’ve seen,
I sleep.
JU
L
I am a Person
Insignificant one or two word liners
that create six faces of intolerance
“Who are you?’ they ask
when “What do you do?”
is more applicable
I am a Writer
I am a Woman
I am a Liberal
I am an American
How appropriate each response
seems to fit into each individual’s ideal, those
digging for classifications so easy to understand
Can we be so conveniently defined?
I am ME
does that count?
I am Nobody
According to the other unknowns who
consider their days worthless
without the comparison to a
him or her
I shed these definitions like
a snake, picking up and eating the scattered
bits and pieces of debris falling off
Just a common creature
vulnerable to attack or
persuaded to defend,
if necessary
I am a Person
Living in a world of other people
Focusing on the similarities
of love and compassion
Instead of the boundaries
of differences to hate
I am Human
Who are you?
Porcelain Darling
Enchanted Doll by Marina Bychkova
Do you see me,
As I would
Like to believe I am
Or, as a porcelain darling
Unrecognizable to
Responsibility?
Offering nothing
Redeemable of
Deserving appreciation
As I continue my days
Feeling phased out
Of connecting with
the personified
corporation of
egotistical Sirs-in-training
who smile broadly
at pretty faces while
building glass ceilings
for anyone other than
themselves
So I politely fill
My role as I’m supposed
To, smiling widely
At those surrounding as
The power hungry
Continue eating all of
Our worth
I forfeit the games
if only to survive
I am grateful for experience ❤
Monthly Archives: July 2013
Posted on July 31, 2013 by MuseWriter
7/9/13
Blindly walking down the gravel road
Outlined in wavering oak trees mixed in with pines
I count each forward step, grateful for the movement
Thankful to have the strength to be standing at all
The random rocks scattered below foot
Offer an uncomfortable pathway to travel
Carefully avoiding sharp edges protruding from the dirt
Sucking in breath as one quick glance fails to notice the pointy canine of a monster
Fangs out, hungry for flesh
Bloodthirsty stranger claiming ownership
Gouging the arch of my left foot, leaving a trail of blood behind.
Posted on July 30, 2013 by MuseWriter
Passion seeping, seething to begin to tell the story of an introduction of the most extraordinary kind
A kinship of identity, feeling apart of something at the very first discovering of voice.
A master of the call patiently carrying out thoughts and creating thinkers who long to continue the traditions:
Of thought provoking, mind boggling, completely ordinary phrases that trump any trained structure taught to little boys and girls;
Who paint pretty flowers that represent the generics of an underground world, but not him.
Disregarding the perfectly placed soapbox and stepping off into the crowd, emerging self to penetrate the barriers of the weak mind
One of the brightest stars known to our eyes,
I can still see him burn, burn, burn
Igniting the fuel in those who feel alive.
Posted on July 27, 2013 by MuseWriter
The backdrifters:
A picturesque display of the 2D sideways view of the
stick figures climbing
The stairs into oblivion
Is this transition so modern, so irrelevant
To anything meaningful at all?
Patiently we tremble
Buckling from the strength “borrowed”
for the good of the people and all of the good that will do
Masking consideration with indifference
So as to not draw any unwanted attention
Of what he said/she said
Have you heard what he said/she said?
Would it be alright if we could
replace uniformity with a new kind of thinking;
to save lives?
To promote the spiritual awakening within the familiar
memories of everyone gazing at the stars,
Those curious enough to see past the barriers and restrictions
of our world
and forget the basic math of 1 + 1
Posted on July 26, 2013 by MuseWriter
Making friends with the little face in the blanket
An onlooker with a friendly smile to offer
at just the right glance, to see the full bearded grin
Knowing me, myself, deeper
perceiving all of the idiosyncrasies to claim, that I navigate
Giving in, to someone
Anyone relatable to vulnerability
An abstract being committed to acknowledging
every ounce of the commitment to waiting
Even if I dive down into the deepest depths of the ocean,
just for a quick dip, every once in a while.
To find balancing minds that comprehend a particular understanding
Those who challenge all of these pent-up frustrations;
Every building block balancing on the last square’s sharp corner
Escaping face, running away
Blaming those who claim to penetrate the thought
but then falter when the war horn starts blowing;
Cowards that brave the training but abandon the reality
Of it all, if this is all
just a daytime act of the fairytale world
Who are our warriors?
Where are the heroes?
Posted on July 24, 2013 by MuseWriter
6-14-13
Soft humming, whispering through the dark
A song that carries a familiar melody,
a voice that I hear often
Deep, harmonious onto itself, splitting moments of sound into a stereo
speaker of what is being said, sang
I understand what it costs, to be yourself and forget
the thoughts that project, interject
from everyone screaming around
The intensity is loud, overbearing, uncontrollable
What of this awareness if there is no one to see it?
Time always proves the existence of man
To see him stumble, fall, and still rise, to lift himself up;
True will; impenetrable determination,
until light is eventually extinguished
Is this the song, the meaning behind the feeling suggested;
An introduction to the power of what rules the world?
The angel sings, echoes softly within the breeze
Catching on the particles that reflect off of the moon
They flitter, flutter
Dancing to the flow
Little fairies of a fraction of light to behold
I hum out a wish to further push the troops along
A breath of exhaling frustrations searching for the mutual understanding
of companionship
and what that means, if I could believe in everything,
or in nothing at all.
Posted on July 23, 2013 by MuseWriter
Someone I once met, was an advocate of shoes
“The most important aspect of walking,”
Said an older man with a learning soul
Enjoying the day, enjoying the people
Showing off a younger brand than expected;
However, they were all white,
I’ve heard that’s cliché?
But he didn’t know, and if he did, he didn’t care
Happy as a satisfied customer invested in selling his satisfactions with another
Who happened to be me, as I reflected on
The time I first put my shoes on my feet
One year, maybe two; my disregarded
necessity of almost everyday wear
Mostly gray with a rubber sole of neon pink,
Perfect balance of my kind of fashion, comfort
If I have to be convinced of buying new footwear, it must be easy to find the replacement;
This, coming from a skeptic
I’m hesitant to admit that my shoes are old.
Posted on July 22, 2013 by MuseWriter
Laying back, ground warm and soft
Wrapped in your arms, on the comfort of an old quilt
Pretending to care about the stars shining overhead;
Making that a reason to be here anyway
Whatever works, I’ll take it.
This is how I would imagine it
if you were here today…
Posted on July 22, 2013 by MuseWriter
A festival for summer to gather the thinkers
Collecting names and creating futures one by one
Marching them in like cattle to be herded and sorted
Ironically matching identity of self into what self stands against
Creating an image, creating a challenge, creating a burden?
As a child I wander; not searching, nor pretending
Was this to witness a gift or a plot of destruction?
Another thought added to the list of doubt and pessimistic questions;
But I think everyone has some of those
Whether locked up in the moldy storage trunk, long forgotten in the attic
Or, burning in eyes until question mark ink blotches stain face black
Posted on July 21, 2013 by MuseWriter
The melody is soft, playing slow,
harmonizing air to produce the flow of sound
With vibrations thundering through to the heart, keeping beat or count,
of how much life costs
A transcending thought from artists to listeners, connected by the
shared moments of understanding
One medium yearning to strip naked of bodily self and
give soul to all;
the other, open to enlightenment and
characterizing feelings and emotions,
empathy
A satisfying gift to witness, to experience
Assisting in quenching the thirst for inspiration by saving the full glass of motivation
for the dry tongued, those of the communicators
of mouth and word;
conducting phrases of letters and
weaving them into various
sequences of belief(s)
Only those worthy of
interpreting voice should ever
listen to music at all.
Posted on July 21, 2013 by MuseWriter
Searching the crowd
Dedicatingly scanning faces for someone, anyone
My body as self-aware, before mind could respond;
maybe humbled by the overall feeling
Foreshadowing that any particular day may have an outcome
that defines the rest of life
Sometimes fate leaves the harder decisions up to the Universe
But not always; sometimes one’s given the chore of deciphering
choice from careful consideration
Although I find balance best, it’s harder to be patient for the motion to end
Carrying the weight of the world and assessing the burden of mankind against
the sky and the trees, the prairie grass and the seas, or the mountains and the river streams;
The natural magical wonders that feed the curious,
tempting retreat outside of any kind of stressful physical means:
I envision an oasis of pine and oak leaves bordering out
green edges against the blue summer sky
A slight breeze to shuffle the air and freshen the mood,
to create energy and movement
When I picture myself standing inside my utopian safe-haven,
I am not alone
But with you, a new lover of heart who
answers to the call of the beat when heard
Imprinting empathetic minds, living in the world anew.
Posted on July 16, 2013 by MuseWriter
If it is song, then we can sing
If it is prayer, then we can pray
If it is silence, then we can think
Too many if, then contemplations to consider
I find myself remembering less when I focus on trying to figure out more, details
Of this and that, of her and him
Faces that shift shape and illuminate questions of recognition
But are we that familiar?
I ask for forgiveness from the deep vibrations of my bones
Can you hear the echo bouncing off of the muscles and tendons
digging down into the deep, dark edges of my soul;
Hiding from the reaper, seeking within?
Belief seems fake and brittle these days
But I’ve never understood the belief in the falsity of placing so much meaning on
any particular word, words, to outline:
Some definition of phrase to listen to or compose for a muse’s kind of gathering
Would you listen to the voices calling out random names,
Quiet whispers dancing on the erratic changes of the wind?
The identity of a character determined by the mind of the reader,
And who hears, what is being interpreted the “correct” way;
to trust in communicating and giving up on all other
interpretations to shuffle through.
If it is song, then we can sing
If it is prayer, then we can pray
If it is silence, then we can think
Posted on July 14, 2013 by MuseWriter
Glancing down through the storybook
Fumbling through the pictures and stopping on a familiar scene of intense contrasts
Background black but outlining a lone figure illuminated by an opened door’s light
Just a shadow caught in-between the different realities and wondering how to connect
As the true self opens up, the metaphorical sharp teeth grow into a snarl
The monster within scaring away the person who finally solves the riddle, whatever the answer may be?
Understandable resentments that pop when squeezed hard enough,
And ooze a tainted green slop of contemplation; not that it really matters.
I feel a sense of understanding; wondering why darkness seems so stereotypically engulfing?
This liminal body, reflecting curiosity into the story
Always tempted by learning, perhaps addicted to the questions asked as chance happens
I try to focus, least of all, on the other aspect of individuality;
That we often find ourselves exploring these thoughts alone.
Posted on July 14, 2013 by MuseWriter
Should I cover mouth and smile,
Through eyes so as to cause less discomfort?
What child stands upright at the break of learning how to walk?
There is no one who can blindly lift themselves up;
every pathway cannot be claimed, walked
We are a body of matches and pairs
Silhouettes of shadows and meaning
To disgrace oneself by judging the unknown;
no one is good enough to predict the many faces of the future
But if you have opinions to share
Please let me offer;
if you can’t believe than get the fuck out.
Absolute Certainty
We’re both waiting for the moment
When sharp mouths seem important
Or, at least what we would choose to say to face…?
The question to answer is thrown
In one direction to be tossed aside
As if either one of us could ever hide
From the truth, or what we claim:
You should know that I am blind
A naïve child playing games of the mind
Thinking backwards to left, upwards to right
Only to end up in the dark once again
Broken beyond relief of hope
Determined to stay involved by
Attaching self to your charm and
What I choose to believe in
With the answer as simple as this:
I know nothing with absolute certainty
I am grateful for the stars ❤