Tag Archives: Religion

‘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 ❤

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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 ❤

We speak into this silence, until it’s over

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He stares out through the windshield

One hand on steering wheel

The hand guiding more than mind

As mind is fixed on more than now

The dog at his right bobs his head up and down

He drives on

Through the crowds

No one knows

They hear him though

He looks back through the rearview mirror

Eyes locked behind or, in front of me now

We speak into this silence

Until it’s over, it will soon be over?

He drives away

So much for faith

Just another day

Lost in fate

 

I am grateful for foggy mornings ❤

Soaking Senses

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clock

11/11/14

There’s always a slowing down of time when the Universe plays its hand
Vision blurs into a drunken lapse of connection
As the last seconds of every whispering thought
float in and out
From those who pass by; gnat-like noises to buzz into the mind
Their penetrating musings muffled by the compilation of instruments composing stereo emotions and feelings
In my left ear and my right ear jointly, and separately, as I
investigate the audio stimulation (versus the intruding glances that I turn my eyes against)

Chance hollers out, seemingly always unexpected, and
Awareness is interrupted by my flustered responses;
heart racing to catch up to the unpredictability of the moment,
pupils enlarge as I squint from the commitment of answering the nagging mouth of a limitless curiosity
I’ve never retained an imagination capable of ignoring even the most unwelcomed sides of all of the angles of questioning,
for too long

Now, focusing in on the details of the shape
A picture that’s ironically freeze-framed into my view
There are no “Hi, how are you?” or, “My name is…” awkward dronings
There is only the inconsistency of time when two consciousnesses collide into one
A few seconds of riding the tidal wave to shore within the ocean of reality
Soaking senses with the intensity of the change in the air
and how it feels

Everything stops and
we stare

Calling for the willpower of concentration, while maintaining gratitude for the fortune of this gift of an intangible absurdity
Meanwhile,
Memorizing the particulars to mentally store the answers to the questions not quite thought up yet
The discovery of another or, at least something like it
Until time speeds up with the blinding state of determination
Its eyes glazed over as it greedily attempts to account for its precious lost minutes

Such a finger of fate trying to erase any trace of remembrance of the two people who stepped outside of time;
confused into accepting the responsibility of understanding that we’re not alone…

…even if we become lost and forgotten after the weight of acknowledgement disappears into the normalcy of the continuation into the
seconds to minutes to hours to days to weeks to months to years

I am grateful for the good times ❤

I Sleep

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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.

 

I am grateful for this summer, it is much needed ❤

I am a Person

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Titles and labels

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

I am a Christian

 

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?

 

I am grateful for diversity ❤

Want to be published? Books & Shovels

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Hello my friends! Can you believe we are halfway through the year already? I hope it has been a productive year for you all thus far and that you are constantly finding yourselves doing what you love. I am moving again! What an exciting time, minus the packing/unpacking and the humid heat. I just wanted to take a minute out of packing to tell you all about a wonderful project that is so inspiring to me called Books & Shovels.

For anyone who has struggled as a starving artist, to get published, to be HEARD, you will appreciate the hard work and effort that this group is putting in to create a voice for all of us. Books & Shovels was founded by 19 year-old Jeremiah Walton, an advocate of verbage not really seen since the likes of a Bukowski and a Kerouac roamed random cities. Jeremiah is raw, passionate, and in love with his art. A sample of this can be seen on his IndieGoGo page where he offers a brief bio,

“I’m Jeremiah Walton, founder of Nostrovia! Poetry, and a member of NYC based publishing house, UndergroundBooks.

I graduated High School the spring of 2013, and hit the road hitchhiking the following fall.  I ran a small “bookstore” out of my frame pack on street corners and at open mics.  I hoped to give art a good kick in the balls.

The world kicked back though, and it kicked back hard.  To reach the goal of broadening the poetic community, and to encourage others to sacrifice for what they Love, to dream, I realized the bar needed to be raised.  Books & Shovels needed to be launched.”

This is an excellent opportunity for us to join forces and create our artistic families together. We are writing our history for our future generations, let’s show them that we were not shoved aside and told to follow a fatalistic path. Let’s write down our voices so that they can be remembered. We can help provide inspiration for the next kids trying to fit into a society that has “no place” for people like us.

Want to be published? Books & Shovels is offering writers an opportunity at just that, with as small of a donation as $10. Let me repeat, that’s $10 TOTAL to working towards publishing your art. Not only that, your $10 will go towards the promotion of your work, as well as other artists/writers. We all start somewhere, right? Well here’s your starting place: I Want To Be Published

For everyone else, every $1 donation helps. There is not a cheaper way to be invited into a group of people who welcome anyone and everyone dedicated to their same cause of enjoying art. Follow them on Facebook and WordPress.

Join this cause with me, pledge your love for your art, and take the time to appreciate others’ works! As Jeremiah says,
“The Virus is Silence.”