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 đ
Tag Archives: writer
Pixelated Cartoon Experiences
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 âavoidanceâ
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 â not disagreeably â but seemingly mimicking
each movement until they were one of the same
The heavens swayed by makeshift appearances, pixelated
cartoon experiences; all attention must wanderâŠ
Associating self, wondering if thereâs 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 airâŠ
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 đ
That one time I tried to get spiritual in Florida
She read us before we walked in.
Predacious eyes desperate for a sale dilated in excitement; interest
amassing as sticky consciousness lingered and hung heavy.
Her henchman leading you on a trail of an altered path – you were gone,
gone, gone…topic of persuasion influencing your thoughts and next, down I
went.
Her glare searing through me with an intimate awareness; intruding my
memories and claiming witness to the anguish enveloping.
Death shining out from my flesh like a blinking neon sign;
strengthening her hold in the familiarity of the invasion – awarding her an
easy defeat in my uncensored broadcast.
Raven claw-like talons flicking upward in motion as if to physically
grasp my attention.
I fought through the temptation as if swimming through murky water.
Hollow whispers shaped into words willing to be heard: âDonât give in,
donât let go! Thereâs only you swimming down at the bottom of the pool.â
Eyes betrayed as line of sight bonded direct from pupil to pupil.
Time distorted from the present leading us into all of the time that it
wasnât.
Gazing on in a trance; losing self within her past experiences down,
down, downâŠending in images of black flower petals falling dead to bury what
looked to be snakeskin remnants â her shocked expression at my unintentional intrusion.
My body quivering in anticipation of release, the connected trail of
darkness within fortifying before setting me free.
Isolated and detecting first physical responses, swaying side to side
feeling sick in the weakness.
A complete break; both parties pulsating in absence of feeling.
Temporarily numbed of active thought as bodies demanded attention.
I escaped her madness and retreated to the ocean; frantic to throw away
her clinging presence into the moon laden tide.
Finding relief standing in the salty water; I fantasized my flesh melting
off into the sand so as to become an anchor of this World.
Ghostly well wishes blew in from over the waves making me feel at peace;
the rhythmic cadence of churning waters dancing at my feet.
Heels descending, sinking further in.
Hoping to balance the weight of the other; advocating Iâve earned the
right to feel complete in myself.
Fighting for belief but claiming all the same.
Desire

Casey Weldon
Distant relations sit in waiting, eyeing the fray in astute attention
Denigrating their young for want of substance while toasting to their fill;
bottomâs up!
If not desire â you, yâall, youse guys â announce
naiveté in all steps forward;
graciously forgiving in your all-knowing published analyses:
left hand(s) holding
magnifying glass, right hand(s) smudged red in discontentâŠ
How lucky one is to feel
present, to mature in blooming ecstasy!
Admired by the
collective witness; pieces of bouquet laid to waste in a
passerbyâs pretty petal
plucking
The sun â hanging above soapbox
â in a state of egocentric pining;
woke in its awareness of
absolute necessity:
rebuking othersâ flutterings
while savoring the understanding
Theyâve said thereâs a
foolâs will that keeps the light shining
Or perhaps, an innocence
in the depths of the frequencies a buzzinâ
We travel deep â fingernails
extended from wing â scratching into an ethereal sense of purpose;
make-believing coincidence
after each last word has been written
Louder yet, metallic cries
continue to silent the patronage:
Flying, failing; a
traveler seeking only to feel self in a familiar existence
I am grateful for Spring
â€
Shadows

Unknown
I awoke refreshed, mangled but content
Fire still burning but weakening; smoking ash
Desiccation of flesh left encrusted and cracked
Top layers curling, blisters long since absent
âYouâll never be recognized by anyone.â
I am the darkness surrounding the outer rim of thought
âYour reflection only seen as the byproduct of those who care to lookâ
I can feel tragedy in my blood clouding the way forward
I can’t get it out of my head
always in my head
God, such fucking nonsense
Is there really a god?
Because I canât feel good here
Obsessing what could have been
Defending position based off of best judgment
What are these words anyway
Subjective bullshit to manipulate feelings
Knowing I can’t get it out of my head
always in my head
You, the ever elusive figure in the dark
Me, just someone standingin front of the mirror
I am grateful for Friday â€
Office Lights

City Street At Night Wallpaper Desktop Background by Stina Haglundh
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,
âhow many of those poor lonely bastards are still caged in their towers?â
Whether intentionally or not
It was at this moment that my voice betrayed me
Completely consumed by the lit geometry of society
I didnât feel your attention, didnât hear your question
But there I was replying to something worth answering
âI hate it here.â
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 thereâs 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 â€
see no future in the present
….As we continue to ask the near and far
Who are you?
When the response is always
MeâŠYou should have known by nowâŠ.
Shadow fingers buried in mind, persuading thought to dream beyond the edges
Lemonhead wishes squeezing out juicy substance until thereâs enough to drink;
With his sour mouthed staining back of hand to wipe away the taste before grabbing pen
A golden tool for a dedicated scribe, a powerful King of the abandoned
Irony lives on in the dead as we continue to play pretend in this fucking shithole;
Extra flutterings to penetrate those of yesterday who see no future in the present
I am grateful for art â€
Insert Title VII
Iâve taken out my pen at least ten times within the last ten minutes
Every time I set out to write a profound line or statement
The ink dries up and my mind wanders to numbered lists
Vibrational tinkering
Jingling
Repetitive nonsense
Off-key but
Playing its own
Dramatic melody
Been here before, balancing on the tightrope
Obsessing about answers when I donât even know
I have really enjoyed perusing your train of thought
A little boy fell off of his bicycle
Scared and all alone
He grabbed the sidewalk for its warmth
But ended up getting burned
Crawling around on all fours
He forgot how to walk
Abandoned, hurt, and sick of himself
He never made it home
Scraping out the ash from the bottom
Lighting up and hoping for one more
Fingers burning but still I donât stop
Finally, there is something to feel
If I were honest with you
Then I would have to believe myself
There are moments when I doubt everything
With too many thoughts to figure out
Itâs always the last hit that
seems better than the next
The sun sets on restless minds
Attracted by shiny gems glowing
Ambers in the eyes of whoâs looking
Momentary distractions demanding attention
Versus simply enjoying the moon
If dreaming were easy than more people would have less to believe
And less to think of as real
Even if reality is never something we understand
Thereâs a special price to pay for
Being above all of the rest:
Creatures hovering through the rain
But never getting wet
Watching the animals below as they scatter
Shielding their faces with the backs
Of their hands
No attention to whatâs overhead
As they run for cover
Even if the rain falls
Creating sad, long lines down the pane
I can still find myself
On the other side looking in
I am grateful for fluffy snow â€
Midwest Winter
Devoting self to voice for a moment
New Music – So It Begins…
My band The Fancy Pears has released our song titled “So It Begins…” Let us know what you think!  ††â€