1. |
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Laid out in Prison
betrayed by a Visigoth king
my mind began to wonder,
my thoughts started fashioning
in a cell locked away, a pondering Aristolean
Plato from Socrates
and the footnotes of philosophy,
are all chasing dialectic round
while Fortuna spins us on a wheel of history
“a sorrows crown of sorrows”
if you cling to the transitory
Lead us not into temptation
but, deliver us from evil and misdeed
from Rome to Constantinople
reconcile us in belief
But, prepare yourself to deal with a miracle
for a glimpse beyond the empirical
Lord have Mercy, have mercy and redeem
lord have mercy, have mercy if you please
send me down thy angel
the consolation of philosophy.
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2. |
Blues for Bodhisattva
02:37
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Oh Lordy, Lord
I lay my sorrows down
I surrender my blues
in the chapel of of cathartic sound
yes, I seek transformation
baptized in the river of immanent vibration
Tell all my Buddies,
tell all my Friends in town
to spread the news
that if compassion is to be found
delve within the worlds creation
that path you ‘ll walk towards liberation
Brothers and Sisters
let the message resound
and wash the blues from your faces and your frowns
the tears of this world’s situations
I offer up for each and all’s salvation
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3. |
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The departed gods are not completely departed
and the present ones not fully here
yet the poet remains on the trail of those absent gods
and through language draws them near,
re-ensouling the world of ordinary things
outside the circulation of technology
Poetically dwells the human
though difficult to conjure the name of... God
or to orient oneself toward death..... as it draws nearer
by clearing a path toward Alethia
relocating Dasein’s
unconcealment of Being in Time
Anxiety in the face of thinking
forgetting into an oblivion of being
at the end of an age where thinking has failed.
terrorized by the abandonment of meaning
but, where there is danger
so the saving power also must
but “only a god can save us” (1)
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4. |
Parable of Birds
02:47
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Hover on Hover on
my little hummingbird; hover on
till the summers gone
when hummingbirds go south to conspire
nesting over in southern shelters
partaking of the fruits along the Mississippi Delta
Fly on, Fly on,
my little nightingale; fly on
sing until the break of dawn
when nightingale's retire
dream a dew drop dream through the day
then vanish again in to another nights play
Sail On Sail On
my chickadee; sail on
on a pollen song
of apple blossoms and desire
take a sweet taste of floral nature
then dance a dance of honey rapture
Looking on, Looking on
a hidden companion, a veiled “purusha”
as if a secret soul
an audience for the dance, song, mating
yet, not partaking of the dew drop, fruit or flower
your witness self watching from a bough watchtower
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5. |
Blues Spake Zarathustra
04:53
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A rolling stone,
a rope between beast and overman
poised beyond good and evil
to the sun he speaks
this cup is again going to empty itself,
and again I am going to be a man.
thus began Zarathustra’s going down.
Wage war against a slave religion
sometimes your so wrong that your right
when your mind departed
it was the assumption of the antichrist
in those last lucid letters signed
Dionysus or the Crucified
you had come to know your fate
was not man but dynamite
Thus spake Zarathustra
‘Once you said “God”
but, now I come, come to teach you now... overman
And if god is dead,
would it be your body torn to shreds...
its just the chaos of who you are,
that gives birth to a dancing star (3)
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6. |
Commedia
02:36
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Enter into the luminous crypt of soul
in the hour before dawn, before the gods awake (4)
Virgil I’ll follow in dark wood
diverging with shadows ,
chiaroscuro patterns of light
whose tortured lives are tapestries
stitched upon our mortal shell
Infinity’s skin stretched taut across a mask of time,
tautologies of form, elastic in the mind of night
Virgil i’ll follow up a mountain
converging at the summit
of an earthly garden of delight
poised above our purgatories
Walk out with the mother of radiances
a traveler of worlds, ascending an occult stair
Beatrice, i’ll follow unto the stars
my will and desire
turned like a wheel by Love (5)
in a triad of epiphanies
toward the vectors of paradise
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7. |
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The rain it raineth everyday
the rain it raineth everyday
as soon as one storm passes
the next wave is on it’s way
The sun slants low on the horizon
the port of angels on a winters day
mist filters through brick, moss, and mortar
tobacco ghost stains swirl in stale tavern water
Down and out bards and old growth graveyards x 2
blue collar sweat chlorine tears swell this harbor
the sawdust voice echos of Raymond Carver
The rain it raineth everyday
the rain raineth everyday
from first October till the end of May
until the sun pours down like honey
in summer, when lights worth
more than drink or money
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8. |
Take Care of Yourself
03:40
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Before you expect it from anyone else
so treat yourself with care
a Stoic chin to danger,
skeptical, not making a fuss
following the ways of Seneca
If you whet your appetite with desire
be sure you know how to put out the fire
Know Yourself,
no one else gonna be your Oracle of Delphi
it’s never too early or late
for knowing your self and soul gazing
a purification of thoughts and such
indulge your appetite with Epicurus
If you discipline your desires
you’ll cleanse your senses with fire
Write Yourself a letter
inscribe your heart’s doubts for the better
keep a diary of your sin
take care of yourself, start philosophizing
avoid temptation and Philistines
take down some wisdom from St. Augustine
but take care, when confessing what you desire
be careful not to put out the fire
Chorus:
a cold docile body who enacts the schemes,
of subjects disciplined by knowledge/power regimes
so take care those technologies of inner subjugation
require critical interrogation
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9. |
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Even if your gone
you will still be there to shake it up
Shake it shake it shake up
shake, shake, shake it up,
Your endless boogie lives on
thrilling the ages sure enough
sure enough sure enough
the Akashic chronicle (7) of the blues sage
Scratched into the grooves of a side
a side of life wandering thru
the “vale of soul making”(8)
rocking the night with song
our ancestors rising up
Rise, rise, rising up
rise, rise, rising up
Your blues legacy
is now our cosmic memory
Shake, shake it up
shake, shake shake it up
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10. |
Bluesman of the Mind
02:42
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Blues in the dark night of soul
a cry from the dark.
reckoning with the soul of a bluesman,
born between feces and blood
born to know thyself
born under a good sign of
bluesman, bluesman
Desire in the face of death
a cry from the heart
that outlasts the worm in woven blades of grass
endure the raw stinky stuff of history
yet allow suffering to sing out
the condition truth demands
answer sorrow with a song & shout
bluesman, bluesman
Blues evolves, thats jazz
another a mode of being in the world
fluid, protean, eschews
totalizing either/or... views
bluesman, bluesman of the mind (9)
Corpses decompose.... thats philosophy
I talk rhythm timbre tones
improvise thru blood and bone
pondering on the mysteries
I allow suffering to speak out
the condition truth demands
wrestle with death in the shadow of doubt
bluesman, bluesman
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11. |
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A gracious Spirit sings as it comes
and goes. It moves forever
among things. Earth and flesh, passing
into each other, sing together
turned against that ,,,,, song we go
where no singing is or light
or need coupled with its yes
but spite, despair, fear, and loneliness
unless the solitary,,,,, will forbear,
time enters the flesh to sever
passion from all care
annul the lineage of consequence
un-less the solitary will forbear
the blade enters the ground
to tear the world’s comfort out, by root and crown
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12. |
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The dance and the song
call each other into being.
soon they are one-rapt in a single rapture,
so that even the jig has its clarity,
And time is the wheel that brings it round.
In this rapture the dead return
sorrow is gone from them.
they are light.
They step into the steps of the living
and turn with them
in the dance
in the sweet enclosure of the song,
and timeless is the wheel that brings it round.
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Richard Carlson Port Angeles, Washington
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