No title

Daniel Garcia Poems #1

2009-07-24T07:25:00.000-07:00

Gradually

This is take 63

Though you stopped counting long ago

And still the darkness comes

The anguish blanketing your soul

The game of life is Loss

It's gonna come again my friend

Sometimes it's big or small

But it's all even in the end

There comes a time

When you're just listening

There comes a time

When you're just gone

I didn't know this once

The answers come to those who wait

And then for 40 days

You let the dawn pick up the pace

The game of life is Love

It's gonna come again my friend

Sometimes it's big or small

But it's all even in the end

There comes a time

When you're just listening

There comes a time

When you're just gone

Gradually growing wholeness.

****

How in the world

I can't see what's down the road

Might as well just let it be

Let it be

Let it go

And I can't pray away the pain

Might as well just settle down

Settle down

Settle in

Settle down

Settle in

How in the world do people

Carry on with so much

To carry around and no teaching

On how to free our minds

How in the world will people

Fix the world when changing

Other people starts with

Learning how to free yourself

How to free yourself

How to calm yourself

How to quiet your mind

How to stop the war

Stop yourself.

******

Aging Hands

"Hillside lullaby

You came into my life

Not a moment too late

But just in time

All of my wisdom

All of my fortunes

Had drifted far from me

In a blackened sea

Then you dragged me out again/My outstretched hands/My pleading hands/My desperate hands/My praying hands

Wings on the mountain

Lift me high

I'd give up a year of laughter

For a day with you in the sky

There's no changing

The condition I'm in

Show me light in darkness

I'd probably doubt it again

Yet I see with my very eyes/We're holding hands/Holding hands/My open hands/My aging hands

Can you feel me? Can you tell that I'm not that strong?

Can you hear me? Can you tell that it's been too long?

But I know I'm not alone

It's in my hands/My healing hands/My breathing hands/My aging

Poems by Daniel Garcia

Posted with permission

Some of my favourite 21st. century albums

2009-07-01T09:50:00.000-07:00

Huong Thanh

"Cai Luong Theater" 2008

- Traditional Vietnamese music.

Kieran Hebden & Steve Reid

"NYC" 2008

- Electroacoustic Jazz

Nick Cave & Warren Ellis

"Music From The Motion Picture The Assasination Of Jesse James" - 2007

The Magnetic Fields

"Distortion" 2008

- Pop-Rock

Gnarls Barkley

"The Odd Couple" 2008

- Groove

Paola Prestini

"Body Maps" 2008

- Contemporary Music

Medeski, Martin & Wood

"Zaebos: Book of Angels Volume 11" 2008

- Jazz-fusion

Flaming Lips

"At War with the Mystics" 2006

- Rock

Outkast

"Spare Boxxx/The Love Below" 2003

- Hip-Hop

(I'll be updating this section as often as possible..)

Alisa Vasquez Poems #2

2009-07-01T09:36:00.000-07:00

His shoulders tell a story of unrest for they are crooked. With his mouth washed he says the unrest should at least be clean.

If I held my breath I’d run out,

If I ran out, I’d feel pressure,

If I felt pressure, I’d feel the need to make a decision,

If I failed that need,

I still made a decision.

White picket fences

the dinner table,

Comfort in running water.

Finally arriving,

Soft pillow cases,

Silently loud

the release into him

the release into her.

No redemption,

This is hatred.

I’m sitting her wondering and pissed

I’m confused.

The things that are supposed to be fun and exciting aren’t

They’re a mess and confusing as fuck.

They’re supposed to be great things.

The potential is there

the lights are on,

Dim, but on.

There used to be a song that saved me

Instantly all was okay.

Or maybe I had the understanding it would be.

You’re here now

I can’t find that song and it can’t find me.

My dad said I have nothing to lose

But my pants are down

And I have already seen that loss.

So, I guess he’s right.

I want it all now.

I want the path to my song

And I don’t care about the melody.

One day when its right

Again.

We will be there.

Different people with the same core.

In the mean time don’t lose sight of the goal.

This is a journey

Let others around you, love you.

You are worth it all and more

Above all things,

Let it be,

A day in the life,

Evolution,

and Blackbird.

Tradition is fiction,

it always has been.

Whether you exist in my mind

Or I exist in yours,

It all comes down to faith.

If I choose evolution,

What says of the missing link?

If I chose creation,

What says of Adam and Eve?

What says we aren’t all here because of you?

(read from left to right)

Serene grass Long lashes

Faint voices

Hopeless addiction Unknown

Never ending

Full lips Sewn shut

Dark shadows

Parallel lines Hanging curtains

Swinging lamp

Wildly passionate,

Quietly passed,

Means ultimately, gone.

Absolute,

And okay.

Wildly passionate,

“Quietly sobbing”.

Wonder about tomorrow and what life brings.

Softly smile and breathe.

Your loving soul draws me near.

All poems by Alisa Vasquez

Posted with permission.

Alisa Vasquez Poems #1

2009-07-01T09:25:00.000-07:00

I feel comfort in my shadow

For nothing is real,

Except it.

Simple Saturdays lounging

On the threads of my couch.

Written lines in that familiar shade of black.

The clouds are back again

And I must wait.

In the midst of these clouds,

I find fear.

In has many faces, and I pick mine up.

I see yours there and smile,

I see yours there and smile.

The energy builds and the day reborn.

Look to the sky to feel your place.

It matters.

Looking around,

How is it that I’m here?

Strangely wonderful,

Watching you sleep.

Choke.

Hearing your thoughts,

Fly.

Tasting your juice,

When.

Smelling that scent,

Death.

Irresistibly there,

Destruction.

Gives me all he knows to be true,

Knowledge,

Affection,

Love,

Money,

Mistrust,

Anger,

Guilt,

His way, price tags.

Important, breathe, brush my teeth.

Unknowing.

Titlelessness

It’s a type of syndrome we suffer from.

It’s not contagious.

It’s not curable through

Titlelessness

I say this as fact, because it is.

Titlelessness

It can’t be studied, no research can be done.

You cannot have varied forms.

It’s the same for everyone.

It can be this simple,

An awkward smile

Holding comfort.

We are not meant to be more than 2 souls in a flower pot.

I once asked myself a question of emotion.

I felt the wonder in my soul

And began to answer.

Living for ideals leaves little room for life.

In the blink of an eye I see a shadow.

In the blink of another, I see one more,

What happens next is like infectious bacteria.

I wonder what prompted you to go straight for the feet.

I have skates on mine.

The white ones with hot pink wheels.

I call it my mid-20’s crisis.

I’m on my own,

Somewhat educated (by society’s definition)

I’m alone, in an okay way.

Holding out for my Henry Sherman.

“I get it, he’s everything I’m not.”

All poems by Alisa Vasquez

Posted with permission.

Run, baby

2009-06-27T06:24:00.000-07:00

Run, baby
(Josué Febles)

I woke up in my childhood and started to run
Been running all my life, found no way to stop
I run to all the places and I still am late
I can just do it or try to do my best
A little bit of this, a little bit of that, a little bit of
I tell you I run and I still am slow

Drink black coffee, light a smoke
Get a grip, get some love
No way I can get everything I want
No way I can get to everyone I love
Drink black coffee, light a smoke
Get a fix, get a job
No way I can get everything I want
No way I can get to everyone I love

I never get enough and fast enough
A little bit of this, a little bit of that, a little bit of
Anything I'm not
I never get enough and fast enough
Gotta keep on pushing, always on the run
Run like some motherfucker, show must go on

Run baby, run, run baby, run, run

Run away from here, run away from there
Run away from myself as far as I can get
Run away from mom, run away from school
Run away from myself, run away from you

Live on, dream on, always on the run
No way I can get everything I want
Live on, dream on, always on the run
No way I can get to everyone I love

MONSIEUR FUCK

2009-06-27T06:23:00.001-07:00

MONSIEUR FUCK

Once upon a time there was a little puppy somewhere in California, USA. Due to some serious digestive trouble his flatulence was extremely abundant and loud. These impressive displays would cause people to turn around and curse every time he let one out. Our little puppy wound up believing his name was “Fuck!” Rejected by everyone he flew to Paris and went on the road for several years during the Seventies, eventually becoming one of the most celebrated writers in Europe. People meet in intellectual circles and theaters everywhere to listen to readings on the highest acclaimed farts by Monsieur Fuck.

I Ain't Got No / I Got Life

2009-06-27T06:22:00.000-07:00

I Ain't Got No / I Got Life

(Gerome Ragni, James Rado, Gal Mcdermot)

I ain't got no home, ain't got no shoes

Ain't got no money, Ain't got no class

Ain't got no skirts, Ain't got no sweater

Ain't got no perfume Ain't got no bed

Ain't got no mind,

Ain't got no mother Ain't got no culture

Ain't got no friends, aint got no schoolin'

Ain't got no love, Ain't got no name

Ain't got no ticket, Ain't got no token

Ain't got no god

and what have i got?

why am i alive anyway?

yeah what have i got?

nobody can take away?...

Got my hair. Got my head

Got my brains, Got my ears

Got my eyes, Got my nose

Got my mouth, I got my smile

I got my tongue, Got my chin

Got my neck, Got my boobies

Got my heart, Got my soul

Got my back, I got my sex

I got my arms, got my hands, got my fingers,

got my legs, got my feet, got my toes,

got my liver, got my blood..

I've got life,

i've got my freedom

i've got life

I've got life

and I am gonna keep it

I've got life

and nobody's gonna take it away

I've got life!

Une histoire de voiture.

2009-06-26T04:22:00.000-07:00

"Nous avons rencontré un garçon qui est musicien professionnel. Il joue pour des stars françaises et américaines. C'est mon copain, qui cherchait une voiture et lui vendait la sienne. Il en est venu a parler d'un guitariste sur Bourges qui jouait d'un façon extraordinaire il y a une dizaine d'années. Il se demandait ce que devenait ce guitariste trés imprégné d'Hendrix et dont il adorait aussi la façon de chanter.
Ce fameux guitariste devait a l'heure qu'il est jouer encore mieux. Il restait songeur... comme admiratif et respectueux.
Le nom de ce garçon qui vendait son véhicule est Lesca. Peut être cela te dit quelque chose. Je ne sais plus son prénom; car nous ne l'avons pas revu, mon copain ne lui a pas acheté la voiture".

By Stab

Too much talking.

2009-06-19T05:53:00.000-07:00

People who talk a lot make me so bored.. Where do they suck out the energy to keep talking so much from?..

We say so much and do so little. Maybe we spend so much energy talking that when it comes to acting we're just tired. Talking is WAY EASIER than acting.

We constantly change, we are always the same but we constantly change. (You have to be human to be able to do that!) That's why words can be so poor sometimes, because they stay where they where created while we keep going. At least there's always someone to pick them up and use them for a while.. That's what books are for. I like books. Books are useful. I wish people that talk so much could all write books just to give us the choice of listening to them or not instead of imposing their bla, bla to us by standing there so close to your face and spitting all those words right into your mouth while restricting your vital space by touching you to grab your attention back whenever you turn your head in a desperate attempt to show them how bored you feel..

Don't think I don't like talking, it's just that to me talking has to go with listening. If you aren't able to listen, what the hell are you looking for?..

The most interesting thing about listening and observing is that, when you get to do that, you see a lot. The more you see, the less to have to say. That's good. You won't waste so much energy but learn a lot instead.

When I talk a lot I get tired of the sound of my voice in my head. Then I realize that half of what I've said wasn't necessary. It's like those movies that last more than 2 hours to say something they could've said in 90min.

I stop here, all this is making me feel bored.

Jackson Feebs