Monday, December 9, 2013

Thursday, November 28, 2013

New.

Wednesday, October 16, 2013

Void.

Throw me out to space
I want to float by the sun
and feel its embrace
slowly
my eyes will fade
but I'll burn with love
and never feel pain
so throw me out
to space.

Throw me out to space
I'm right by the door
just give me your grace
show me
what you want to say
and burn your sweet love
into my face
just throw me out to space
throw me out
to space.



Friday, August 30, 2013

Atlantis.

We sold it all;
the eye and mountain
symbols of naught
but the mystery
of continuous
stupidity.

I can smell
Bacon, seething
and popping in despair,
or perhaps resignation
The Empire of Poets
scattered and helpless
drowned by
neanderthal
greed.

Oh, that we
travelled
and evolved,
forged in suns,
scattered
across ten billion
nights,
drawn from sacrifice
of countless wise
to fail upon the last breath
for no less
than a convenience
and no more
than the symbol
of our Way
sullied
by faceless argonauts,
a golden fleece.

And is that thought
Despair
or is it Hope.


Thursday, July 11, 2013

Monday, June 17, 2013

A good mourning.


What do I do
now the pain is gone
I can't write anything
it's all been lost
and what do I do
now the pain is gone
it was bleeding me empty
is all I know

What do I do
it's the same old song
but it feels like everything
has all gone wrong
and what do I do
now the pain is gone
you were bleeding me empty
is all I know.

Thursday, June 6, 2013

Sunday, April 28, 2013

New Found Land.

Do you know
that where they stand
consuming
I once watched hungry
dinosaurs tear the earth
from itself?

And where I sleep
I once tore the cover
from my hidden heart
and dared dive within
terrified of what I would find.

And upon this walk
I would write:

There swim the silver fish
upon the cold grey river
there live the new found lost
outside they stand and shiver
and gaze upon that dying Hope
that never came delivered.

Why are the words coming back.
Why are the words coming back.


Saturday, April 27, 2013

Wild.

I'm back in the past, in the house, in the place where it all began, the troubles, the writing, the guitar, the songs, the everything. And maybe there are ghosts but my mind is strong, and maybe there are dreams but my reality is hard steel, forged from all these years and ready to strike again.

Perhaps though, the words will come back.

I already feel at home.

Wednesday, April 3, 2013

Flotsam


I found my friends
trying to hide
out to sea
on a full moon tide
they watched me float
on a bed of lies
and they thought
it was my foolish pride
thinking about you
thinking about you
oh but no, I don't

Now I'm all alone
I'm Space and Time
it feels so good
this little suicide
'cause now I know
how I want to die
and it's with you
by my side
I'm thinking about you
thinking about you
oh but no, you don't...

Sunday, March 31, 2013

Crystal Bell.

A single note in the dark
a vibration
amour
I can never
ignore.

Sunday, February 17, 2013

Just another fucking crossroad.

Of all The Terrors I find Doubts to be most frightening.

Friday, February 15, 2013

Flyby.

In Pierre, however, that comet with its long luminous tail aroused no feeling of fear. On the contrary he gazed joyfully, his eyes moist with tears, at this bright comet which, having traveled in its orbit with inconceivable velocity through immeasurable space, seemed suddenly—like an arrow piercing the earth—to remain fixed in a chosen spot, vigorously holding its tail erect, shining and displaying its white light amid countless other scintillating stars. It seemed to Pierre that this comet fully responded to what was passing in his own softened and uplifted soul, now blossoming into a new life.

Monday, February 11, 2013

2.

I am learning to be patient.

The songs expand into new and exciting things.

I'm really happy with where this is going.

Copenhagen is locked, though yet to be booked.

I am focused. Discipline is key.

I am devoted to this.

Friday, February 1, 2013

Day 1.

I set out three years ago on a musical journey. Everything that has happened since then has been because of my guitar. Or the relationship between the guitar and myself. Family and friends made in many, many countries of the world. Places I had never dreamed of visiting.

It was an education I set out to immerse myself in.

But it has never been without direction.

This year will be the year I complete my training and make something special.

I feel it. The Universe feels right.

I will write a sporadic diary.

This is Day 1.

I am sitting in the most incredible house. A dream come true. A country house in the city with a giant jacaranda in the yard, an oversize cat, a farmhouse kitchen and a music studio.

My job lasts until May 23 and in that time I have to decide where to record, though I am leaning toward Copenhagen where my brothers live.


I have the pencil sketches of the first 5 songs.

********

The horse 
sacrifices itself
in order 
for us 
to feel free.



Wednesday, January 30, 2013

Pre-Production.

All I want is the chance
to give everything I have
to make you feel like
crying for joy.

Friday, January 25, 2013

Nylon.

Cold
I walked alone
through the Winter
though I was told
that I would never
make it Home.

Tuesday, January 15, 2013

Tuesday, January 8, 2013

1.

I'm on a road.

Around me stretches a vast
empty
where shifts
nothing as fast
as the starvation of movement
or nothing so eternal
as the wondering of Joy.

Perchance
this road I thought was a path;
perchance 'tis only a road.

Still
I take a step.

I step one step.