"... Roger.
Alone.
Repeat.
Alone...
There appears to be no sign of life here."
Saturday, December 19, 2009
Saturday, December 12, 2009
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
seriously, fuck the time...
i have a deadline and i hate it
i hate the constraints
i guess i do feel something
inspiration?
some thing like it
the fly of every night
flies around the lonely bulb casing
never gets anywhere
i wonder how
the dead ones
get inside
i usually catch them
set them out
free
into the bitter cold night
they fly right back in
i got a little this weekend
not what you'd think
and i sink right back down
and my friends ask for help
and they might as well
be asking god
or the wall
or a mute animal
i never know why
i just do
close to some thing
maybe almost zen
but that's too confined
not for me
it's not for me
line after line
i signed in again
fucking air conditioned nightmare
i'll go have my own
after one more smoke
Mr. Miller,
come meet me
in my dreams
tell me
an abstract hint
what to do
where to go
or maybe
you already have
i missed my friends band
again
tonight
fucking deadlines
dead
lines
might find hope
tomorrow
stay constructive
negative in positivity
i used to sing about that shit
i still love love it
one more smoke
then off to nightmares
Mr. Miller,
you can be my god right now
nothing nowhere
and going fast
i'll try and not repeat
myself
no re-runs
no syndication
no validation
no redemption
no remorse
break down these fuckers
i'll scream it in your face...
i hate the constraints
i guess i do feel something
inspiration?
some thing like it
the fly of every night
flies around the lonely bulb casing
never gets anywhere
i wonder how
the dead ones
get inside
i usually catch them
set them out
free
into the bitter cold night
they fly right back in
i got a little this weekend
not what you'd think
and i sink right back down
and my friends ask for help
and they might as well
be asking god
or the wall
or a mute animal
i never know why
i just do
close to some thing
maybe almost zen
but that's too confined
not for me
it's not for me
line after line
i signed in again
fucking air conditioned nightmare
i'll go have my own
after one more smoke
Mr. Miller,
come meet me
in my dreams
tell me
an abstract hint
what to do
where to go
or maybe
you already have
i missed my friends band
again
tonight
fucking deadlines
dead
lines
might find hope
tomorrow
stay constructive
negative in positivity
i used to sing about that shit
i still love love it
one more smoke
then off to nightmares
Mr. Miller,
you can be my god right now
nothing nowhere
and going fast
i'll try and not repeat
myself
no re-runs
no syndication
no validation
no redemption
no remorse
break down these fuckers
i'll scream it in your face...
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
the time doesn't matter...
She asked me how i felt and i didn't want to talk about it
she went to bed and i went further into my own ambivalence
she gets to sleep and i get sentenced solitary confinement
i go to relieve constipated frustration express excrement
the cat's sitting in the sink
some find warm and cold as comfort
no one ever sees far past the other
no one ever lives to love their own lover
no one ever cares to find something better
it's easier to stay than to go and find forever
she went to bed and i went further into my own ambivalence
she gets to sleep and i get sentenced solitary confinement
i go to relieve constipated frustration express excrement
the cat's sitting in the sink
some find warm and cold as comfort
no one ever sees far past the other
no one ever lives to love their own lover
no one ever cares to find something better
it's easier to stay than to go and find forever
Friday, December 4, 2009
"Listen to the Cries of an Fool" - Climb Inside Archive #1
The Land Sailors Call of Duty
believe it when you hear the solid calls
shouted from the highest of mountain peaks
echoing beyond the shores of the great sea
across oceans of missed opportunities
forgotten failure that is enough to kill a man
out there
is a ship that sails
with a crew of broken hearted men
mean and strong due to a woman
or whatever else there is
and meanwhile back on the shores
monsters in evil clad leather
stalk the pubs and clubs
searching for prey
it's so easy this way
survival at it's best
drink with the fishes
drink with me
celebrate this distaster (or refrain)
in which we eat horrible meals of flesh
for the honorable dead ones
no longer to be found
languages lost in time
cultures locked in 40 ounce bottles
broken glasses on our feet
as we run from the cops
those fucking pigs
we piss on the rules
so gently written
only to be broken
by trash like me
and my friends
we will dance
and sing
on top of burning piles
of dead officers
in which we've ALL
murdered
for justice
for peace
for something new
for us to do
tonight
I drink for those lives
Lost
Broken
Shattered
Loved
Rejoice
In their loss
-------------------------------------------------
Phone Call
That I can argue with
Who argues with me
And share the best of words
In the worst of ways
I've never felt so insecure as I have
With you
And it's only because
I care so much
About what you think
The arguments we still have
Effect me so deeply
And all for what?
When I can't have what I need
From you
So I tell the world
(Or the few who read this)
about my life with you
because I care so much
I never lied to you in my life
I never felt such a weight
As the weight you've put
On my back
I will carry it forever
Or as long as I remember
When years have passed
I will think of what could have been
And what never was
This is for you
As so much of this is
And for anyone else who can
Relate To this
I have nothing
You, the world
You will never see it
Because I can no longer
Feel a thing
And you obviously can
I wish I could see you every day
But I guess I do
In the sunrises
In the crowds
In the scents
In the words
In the paintings
In my mind
You are always with me
Like my lazy angel
Who never shows up
When I need her the most
I wanted to give you the world
Now I can only give it to
the rest
enjoy it
this is my pain
for you
-------------------------------------------------
Everyday Life
I completely fall into myself
Oceans deep and galaxies wide
Floating free in this void
Weightless and thoughtless
Tonight I walk around useless
My mind floats above me
like it's attached to a balloon on a string
is everything really just nothing?
and it's complete antithesis
fully aware I don't know shit
but I know what I see
burning inside of me
when nobody listens
I know they couldn't understand
Anyways, through the days
Tomorrow is the same
Next week I'll feel some worth
As I trade my time
Doing some work
Screaming these feelings
Without saying a word
We are not free
As we struggle on and on and
on and on and on
Listen to what's been written
And forget what's been told
-----------------------------------------------------
Sunshine Hearts
Oh dearest Sunshine,
You will always have my heart
Melt this freezing man
With just one glance
from those fiery eyes
When I nearly died
You saved this poor soul
Breaking through the blinds
Shower me with light
Awake me to the days passed
That live in such a dark place
Deep inside my cloudy mind
Always looking down from the skies
Too bright see with eyes
Too much to embrace
Lost in the nights
You are so close
Yet still so far gone
I will never see your light
Illuminating my life so bright
Again
Can
Not
Escape
The rise and the fall
Of the inevitable
At the day’s end
I will face the East
I cry alone
Tears fall
As the sunsets
Towards the West
------------------------------------------------------
Ghetto Head
A thousand jigsaw pieces
on the street
Scattered, broken
never to be seen
full or complete
Lost in purpose
Found in reason
With these words
The puzzle is complete
The image is blurry
The eye can not see
Without the mind
To ruin it's beauty
To make it seem less
Then some archaic masterpiece
Lying on the dirty street
--------------------------------------------
A little more on Angel and Devils
Across from a devil
Surrounded by
Soft atmosphere
I make her
what she is
Innocent and true
While I have my
Evil
Intentions
Drunken fool
Sober sweet heart
Thieves and detectives
Incomplete without the other
Crime and justice
Obsolete without each other
Let's make this complete
He suggests
Let's find some trouble
So we can solve this crime
She simply nods
Without agreement
Or disagreement
Nothing else happens
And devil boy
Walks home
drunk and alone
and angel girl leaves
after one drink
with her man
while demons sleep
on the couch
while angels cuddle
enough to Love
and close in warmth
we rest so cold
under filthy robes
dying & living
trying & giving
tonight we sleep
cold & alone
-------------------------------------------------
one trick pony
one trick pony
two bit phony
always so lame
always, always the same
tell them when to dance
tell them when to sing
you never had the chance
with the confidence you never bring
----------------------------------------------------
This Time
Calendar
Clock
Watch
Watching
Time goes by
Without remorse
For you or me
Boring
Reading
Waiting
Confining
For you or me
Without remorse
Time goes by
Relief
Escape
Nothing
Inside
Without remorse
Time goes by
For you and me
WAKE THE FUCK UP!
--------------------------------------------------------
Cheap Talkers
You're talkin all shit about sucide
But you've got so much to offer
While you're still alive
Are you still alive?
Are you still alive?
Are you gonna let them tell you that you've
Gotta to go
When you're not even ready
To see the world
You got so much to give
Copout lies seek alternative
How much have you lived?
How much have you lived?
I'd rather fail in the streets
Then struggle in their heat
In the white collar, blue collar
Bullshit heap
They'll tell you not to try
But what else will fly?
In the real world there's so much competition
But the test is in the work that's your creation
Ideas are great
Unless written in vein
But you've gotta live it through
There's so much to do
In so little time
So why not stay alive?
And prove them wrong
With your own fuckin song
Or whatever you can make
In the spirit of awake
It's up to you
To show the world
You're true
Put your words where your mouth spews
And remember that change is part of growing
Follow truth and the current news
Seek truth in the lies showing
Philosophies
Have degrees
Of validity
With common standards
Of living sanity
But unless applied
Those ideals will die
And so will YOU
Monday, November 30, 2009
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
craigFUyong upcoming events
Sunday Dec 5th - Art Show at C-Squat in NYC - THIS IS AN ART OPENING PLEASE COME OUT AND SUPPORT!
Thursday Dec 10th - Art Show in Jersey City - CANCELLED
Monday Jan 4th - Kamikaze with Seasick / Failures (ex-Charles Bronson) / Salvation (PA) and Aerosols (MA) @ ACAB.
More to come…
"Artist, your mission is... to make a statement!"
A quick bio about me:
I have been artistically creative since my early childhood. Beginning with drawing comic book and cartoon characters, graduating to an abstract paintbrush, then moving on to the precise splicing of collage work and delving into the art of graphic design for record covers.
My last fifteen years have been spent as a highly active member of the independent music community. As a hardcore punk vocalist and record label owner I have booked/toured the country several times over, released a dozen vinyl records and have performed hundreds of shows all across the country. Two of my bands in this time are called "The Degenerics" and "Kamikaze". They both still exist today. You can find out more or listen to them at: www.myspace.com/xsoulrebelrecordsx
I have also more recently brought my obsession with cinema to fruition by taking a stab at filmmaking. I completed a 32 minute short film in 2006 and more recently a music video both of which I produced, scripted, shot, directed and edited.
There is an absolute need for creativity and creation in my life. I have found that to define the word “art” can be simply done with one word: expression... hence I have an obsessive need to express myself.
About my collage work:
"My medium of choice is "collage" art in which I dissect printed magazine images (primarily from the 1950s to 1980s) as well as antique educational / science books and meld them into a very personal juxtaposed form of media manipulation to develop my own vision of the world as we view it through the eyes of mass media. I attempt to distort reality through visions of mixed surrealism that fall onto viewers eyes like a jigsaw puzzle assembled in the incorrect fashion that somehow magically fits together in sheer perfection.
I believe that the major media corporations have no right to filter mass media through their own personal or political agenda without the repercussion of individuals taking the same outlandish liberties. My work is completely apolitical and has no agenda except the hope of pushing how we view and digest forms of visual expression and communication. My goal is to move the viewer into a forced ugly realm of real life savage imagery that is matched alongside independence of the individual self and where one stands in the grand scheme of the universe as it is so kind to continue to hold onto our human earthly existence as we know it.
A celebration of prose by sight and execution in my work reveals the seedy underbelly alleyways of outsider thinking that is so important in this modern overproduced technological and sterile world. That is why nearly all of my images are from discarded magazines that are irrelevant and obsolete. I make these images relevant and bring them back to a sad modern life of something once long dead. I spend hours upon hours with surgical like hands, using the abstract zen method of thought with no thought, to create a portrait of obtuse realism with acute precision. The final result is supposed to intrigue the viewer into a place that conventional media and art would not dare tread. A statement of the true face of social activity that is for sale in every florescent lit corner of consumer America.
I dare not try and sound pretentious nor profane. My work will speak for itself and will only grow stronger with more time and exposure. I am confident of this and would like to take the first huge step out of the trenches of my unemployed unsatisfied current existence and make a positive impact of influence on to the eyes of those who dream to see the world beyond the confines of sterile pedestrian and show them the wonderful sights, only to be seen in between the cracks of the proverbial rigid fence surrounding us all, which leads out to the pastures of freedom hills and progressive valleys. This is my mission.
samples of my work: click click click cluck click click cluck click click
Thursday, November 5, 2009
eleven 0 one
ugly in my depiction
perception blind eyes
racking my intellectualism
leaving it out to dry
kill this old beast
drag his corpse away
bury his heart
out in the woods
where no on goes
where no one cares
natural expiration
the entire earth
wrapped up in rhythm
caught in the spokes
progress regression
dragging me home
if i had all i could get
i'd throw it all away
ruin the best thing
that i'll ever know
the only thing that cares
i couldn't say why
or who or why not
burning intuition
guilty in design
predator parasite host
stand waiting in your line
pay the price of life
it's not in when you die
it's not in when you live
it happens when you sleep
when subconscious oversees
when nothing means the world
when everything makes you weep
silent in the screaming
words fall short
define the new meaning
when things fall apart
this animal knows more
without speech or expression
without the need for attention
without cause or redemption
digging up old graves
in the middle of the night
when the safe ones all sleep
when their truth comes to light
i've never felt more alone
where no one gives a shit
where no one even listens
where nothing matters but mirrors
break my fucking spell
show me what to do
tell me who to be
lead me off the roam
i have nothing in everything i own
it could make all the difference
and all stay the same
broke
ugly
sad
self
never
more
perception blind eyes
racking my intellectualism
leaving it out to dry
kill this old beast
drag his corpse away
bury his heart
out in the woods
where no on goes
where no one cares
natural expiration
the entire earth
wrapped up in rhythm
caught in the spokes
progress regression
dragging me home
if i had all i could get
i'd throw it all away
ruin the best thing
that i'll ever know
the only thing that cares
i couldn't say why
or who or why not
burning intuition
guilty in design
predator parasite host
stand waiting in your line
pay the price of life
it's not in when you die
it's not in when you live
it happens when you sleep
when subconscious oversees
when nothing means the world
when everything makes you weep
silent in the screaming
words fall short
define the new meaning
when things fall apart
this animal knows more
without speech or expression
without the need for attention
without cause or redemption
digging up old graves
in the middle of the night
when the safe ones all sleep
when their truth comes to light
i've never felt more alone
where no one gives a shit
where no one even listens
where nothing matters but mirrors
break my fucking spell
show me what to do
tell me who to be
lead me off the roam
i have nothing in everything i own
it could make all the difference
and all stay the same
broke
ugly
sad
self
never
more
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
a samhain treat with no tricks
I'm really stoked about Halloween this year (as always) so here's a candid photo taken of me and christine that is enough proof that there is some shit we just don't know... I swear this is not photoshop and was not from any type of man made or natural light source. Decide for yourself...
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
upcoming craigFUyong shows
Friday Oct 16th - Kamikaze with Black Kites @ Terrordrome (see flyer above) down the shore
Thursday Oct 22nd - The Degenerics with Sista Sekunden (Sweden) and Reignition @ ACAB / HCHC
Sunday Oct 25 - The Degenerics with Star Fucking Hipsters @ Club Europa in Brooklyn
Friday Nov 13 - I'm putting on a show (not playing) with Torchbearer / Wet Nurse (NY) / The Atlas Moth (NY) / RSO at The Court Tavern
Sunday Dec 5th - Art Show at C-Squat in NYC
Monday Jan 4th - Kamikaze with Failures (ex-Charles Bronson) / Salvation (PA) and Aerosols (MA) - all Youth Attack bands @ ACAB / HCHC.
Don't be a lame ass and come out to a punk show, punk.
Monday, September 28, 2009
My first ART SHOW is last minute...
So it finally happens... I get accepted into an art show. Of course, I know the guy doing it and it is a benefit but it's a big deal to me and a good cause. Please come out and support.
Friday, September 18, 2009
"Araena" Music Video
I directed, edited, shot (in association w/ Greg May) and scripted this music video.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=-To44YghoKo
Check out Araena at www.araena.com
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Music Video Wrap Party 9/17/09
click on flyer for larger versionC'mon out and celebrate the wrap party of my first music video that I co-wrote, co-shot, edited and directed. This is also the record release for Araena's new record, which is the music to the video.
All the info is on the flyer.
http://www.vervestyle.com/home.html
http://www.vervestyle.com/home.html
-craigFUyong
Sunday, August 2, 2009
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Another Late Night
i'm feeling there's no healing
they escape in the dead of night
creep in morbid shadows
they leave the unwanted shit behind
hot humid emotions
fast asleep in the next room
i've blood and dirt on my hands
none of it is mine
none of it matters
it all passes with time
tomorrow the past recedes
and becomes a brand new day
falling weakness into evening
these notes surround me
remind me of what never was
what i'll never be
where i'll never go
i sit and wait for nothing
sweating in my room
the animals want in
pushing on the thin door
outside looking in
so much of what i do
so little of what is known
who or why or when
will any of it make sense
all these ghosts haunt me
awake and in my sleep
i'm loosing and i'm choosing
ready to accept defeat
try and bring it out
so that i can get just
one reply
death letter
lone in a box
the good news
never arrives
i'm sick and tired of waiting
need no validation
so why do i waste my time
i got nothing to do but waste it
i contradict what i know
i hide in the late hours
free in the loneliness
lost in the solitude
the waking sunlight
melts
everything that makes it real
i can never go back
i can never come home
i got nowhere left to live
find me some of this patience
send some shreds to me
learn me how to love them
listen to me scream
it's the only real thing
sober in drunken waste
broken in harmful ways
alone in a crowded place
always just the same
they escape in the dead of night
creep in morbid shadows
they leave the unwanted shit behind
hot humid emotions
fast asleep in the next room
i've blood and dirt on my hands
none of it is mine
none of it matters
it all passes with time
tomorrow the past recedes
and becomes a brand new day
falling weakness into evening
these notes surround me
remind me of what never was
what i'll never be
where i'll never go
i sit and wait for nothing
sweating in my room
the animals want in
pushing on the thin door
outside looking in
so much of what i do
so little of what is known
who or why or when
will any of it make sense
all these ghosts haunt me
awake and in my sleep
i'm loosing and i'm choosing
ready to accept defeat
try and bring it out
so that i can get just
one reply
death letter
lone in a box
the good news
never arrives
i'm sick and tired of waiting
need no validation
so why do i waste my time
i got nothing to do but waste it
i contradict what i know
i hide in the late hours
free in the loneliness
lost in the solitude
the waking sunlight
melts
everything that makes it real
i can never go back
i can never come home
i got nowhere left to live
find me some of this patience
send some shreds to me
learn me how to love them
listen to me scream
it's the only real thing
sober in drunken waste
broken in harmful ways
alone in a crowded place
always just the same
Saturday, July 25, 2009
EXACTLY 2am
tonight is uneventful
i'm waiting for the big nothing
i got butterflies in my gut
they tell me heavy shit
and i know they lie
this confusion
reading old words
inspired to make new ones
make sense
to no one but me
publishing this bullshit
for no one like me to read
in the tiny dark hours
awake when i should sleep
disease is broken
lost to the void
i'm trying easily to make it
where i don't know
but somewhere
out of here
it always comes back to
why bother
i suppose it's all for
yourself
waiting
impatient
waiting
the minutes pass
another hour might come
to waking up alone
in a queens bed
sized for a king
occupied by pauper
free form flowing deep
i know there is no reply
i don't care
i feel better
shouting
out of my window
when no one can hear
or right in your face
it's all the same
everything gets dull
after it's been done
these broken thoughts
together make the puzzle
it all makes sense
to anyone with
decoder rings
polarized glasses
translators
members
where will unconscious
bring me
sexy or brutal dreams
terrors in sleep
insecurity on my t shirt
across my face
tattooed skin
broken expression
i wish someone
could hear this
a broken midnight song
like injured beasts cry
under the moonlight
no one there to care
is there freedom
in the daytime
something i slept through
no one told me about
i'm fucking down
always this way
everyday
tiny hopes of praise
i turn them into pain
bad things
i am my own ghost
haunting
my own soul
but who isn't
in this modern fucking mess
bring the world down
back
to where i can
understand
it always comes back to me
right?
if i was you
i'd not like it
not listen
but
maybe i would
maybe it could all make sense
the cries for help still echo
empty cavernous
dissolve
back into nothing
become nature
become real
i'm waiting for the big nothing
i got butterflies in my gut
they tell me heavy shit
and i know they lie
this confusion
reading old words
inspired to make new ones
make sense
to no one but me
publishing this bullshit
for no one like me to read
in the tiny dark hours
awake when i should sleep
disease is broken
lost to the void
i'm trying easily to make it
where i don't know
but somewhere
out of here
it always comes back to
why bother
i suppose it's all for
yourself
waiting
impatient
waiting
the minutes pass
another hour might come
to waking up alone
in a queens bed
sized for a king
occupied by pauper
free form flowing deep
i know there is no reply
i don't care
i feel better
shouting
out of my window
when no one can hear
or right in your face
it's all the same
everything gets dull
after it's been done
these broken thoughts
together make the puzzle
it all makes sense
to anyone with
decoder rings
polarized glasses
translators
members
where will unconscious
bring me
sexy or brutal dreams
terrors in sleep
insecurity on my t shirt
across my face
tattooed skin
broken expression
i wish someone
could hear this
a broken midnight song
like injured beasts cry
under the moonlight
no one there to care
is there freedom
in the daytime
something i slept through
no one told me about
i'm fucking down
always this way
everyday
tiny hopes of praise
i turn them into pain
bad things
i am my own ghost
haunting
my own soul
but who isn't
in this modern fucking mess
bring the world down
back
to where i can
understand
it always comes back to me
right?
if i was you
i'd not like it
not listen
but
maybe i would
maybe it could all make sense
the cries for help still echo
empty cavernous
dissolve
back into nothing
become nature
become real
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
SOULREBEL RECORD STORE HAS MOVED
http://soulrebelrecords.blogspot.com/
From New Brunswick NJ SOULREBEL RECORDS started in 1994.
I put out NJ based hardcore punk records from such bands as:
THE DEGENERICS / SEASICK / KAMIKAZE / FANSHEN / TORCHBEARER
online record store: http://soulrebelrecords.bigcartel.com/
ebay store: EBAY
social bullshit: http://www.myspace.com/xsoulrebelrecordsx
contact/questions: craigFUyong@gmail.com
USA DISTRO:
INTERPUNK // EBULLITION // NO IDEA RECORDS // REV HQ
EUROPEAN DISTRO:
Sentient Distribution // Greed Records // Per Koro Records
JAPAN DISTRO:
Record Shop Answer
LOCALS: CURMUDGEON RECORDS // VINTAGE VINYL // CHUNKSAAH
INTERPUNK // EBULLITION // NO IDEA RECORDS // REV HQ
EUROPEAN DISTRO:
Sentient Distribution // Greed Records // Per Koro Records
JAPAN DISTRO:
Record Shop Answer
LOCALS: CURMUDGEON RECORDS // VINTAGE VINYL // CHUNKSAAH
Coming up next:
KE CHU CHA "UNTITLED" 7" EP
HUB CITY LATINO PUNKS
SISTA SEKUNDEN: "UNTITLTED" 12" LP
US RELEASE OF HC THRASH PUNK FROM SWEDEN
FANSHEN: "Journey to the Center of The Soul"
Double LP and Book w/ Digital Download
Saturday, May 2, 2009
BLUE EYES
ORGANIZED LOVE
UNTIL THE DAY YOU DIE
ENVY RESPECT SORROW
CAN NEVER TRULY DEFINE
THOSE DEEP BLUE EYES
WHERE THE TRUTH BE TOLD
ANCIENT SHARED WISDOM
CALLOUSED HANDS HOLD
SOFT ON EVERY WORD
THE STRONG SILENT TRUTH
IT SAVED ME FROM MYSELF
STRETCHING FROM MAN TO YOUTH
SHARING LIFE’S EXISTENCE
IT LEFT ME WITHOUT LIFE
IT BROUGHT ON SOME MORE TEARS
IT MADE EVERYTHING FEEL ALRIGHT
BRING ME ALL YOUR SORROW
RISE ABOVE THIS PAIN
I LEARN / I LIVE
WE LEARN / TO LIVE
ALL OF WHAT IS GONE
PLEASE NEVER PLEASE
SHED ME NO MORE TEARS
LEAVE WITHOUT REMORSE
AS PEACEFUL WARRIORS SLEEP
IT’S THE CHANGING OF THE GUARD
THE PROTECTOR OF THE MEEK
THE FOUNDER OF IT ALL
SOLIDERS LAID TO SLEEP
DEPENDABLE CARING MAN
WITHIN THE SOUL YOU KEEP
SACRED RIVERS RUNNING
RUNNING ALL SO DEEP
BELIEVE IN ALL OF NOTHING
NOTHING LEFT TO KEEP
FIND ME AT CROSSROADS
ALONE HERE ALONE
MY TIME IS MINE TO KEEP
THIS SILENCE IS SO HEAVY
SHATTER WALLS OF PAIN
BREAKING WHAT WE KNOW
LEAVE US TO SUSTAIN
REMEMBER TENDER MOMENTS
REMEMBER TOUCHING SONGS
REMEMBER
NO ONE REALLY LEAVES
NO ONE DIES ALONE
R.I.P. F.J.P.
CVW
UNTIL THE DAY YOU DIE
ENVY RESPECT SORROW
CAN NEVER TRULY DEFINE
THOSE DEEP BLUE EYES
WHERE THE TRUTH BE TOLD
ANCIENT SHARED WISDOM
CALLOUSED HANDS HOLD
SOFT ON EVERY WORD
THE STRONG SILENT TRUTH
IT SAVED ME FROM MYSELF
STRETCHING FROM MAN TO YOUTH
SHARING LIFE’S EXISTENCE
IT LEFT ME WITHOUT LIFE
IT BROUGHT ON SOME MORE TEARS
IT MADE EVERYTHING FEEL ALRIGHT
BRING ME ALL YOUR SORROW
RISE ABOVE THIS PAIN
I LEARN / I LIVE
WE LEARN / TO LIVE
ALL OF WHAT IS GONE
PLEASE NEVER PLEASE
SHED ME NO MORE TEARS
LEAVE WITHOUT REMORSE
AS PEACEFUL WARRIORS SLEEP
IT’S THE CHANGING OF THE GUARD
THE PROTECTOR OF THE MEEK
THE FOUNDER OF IT ALL
SOLIDERS LAID TO SLEEP
DEPENDABLE CARING MAN
WITHIN THE SOUL YOU KEEP
SACRED RIVERS RUNNING
RUNNING ALL SO DEEP
BELIEVE IN ALL OF NOTHING
NOTHING LEFT TO KEEP
FIND ME AT CROSSROADS
ALONE HERE ALONE
MY TIME IS MINE TO KEEP
THIS SILENCE IS SO HEAVY
SHATTER WALLS OF PAIN
BREAKING WHAT WE KNOW
LEAVE US TO SUSTAIN
REMEMBER TENDER MOMENTS
REMEMBER TOUCHING SONGS
REMEMBER
NO ONE REALLY LEAVES
NO ONE DIES ALONE
R.I.P. F.J.P.
CVW
Monday, April 13, 2009
Brother Gun
i couldn't get out
so i got back in
we talk and talk and talk
nothing ever gets resolved
beautiful madness surrounds me
where do I go now?
my brother's kicking in the door
everyone is angry at me
i'm kicking myself down
i'm down from the world
i can't get back to where i wanna be
four walls captivate captivity
help me a little baby
she won't listen
oh please oh please disease
get outta me tonight
just one more chance
just one more song
my brothers outside the room
cursing my slurring
telling me to forget
brother saved me
and he don't know it
broken splinter wood
cold fingers and eyes
help me get through tonight
and i promise i'll be alright
oh brother, help me out
i need to get out
my brother's mad at me
because he loves me so
i can't help me tonight
i'm home my pretty girl
at the end of the end
he told me not to quit
said keep on that line
don't go away
further forever down
she gave it to me good
lay in a bed of despair
i want it bad
i want out now
my brother's cursing my slurring
with ghosts outside the door
i can't help me tonight
i'm home oh pretty girl
distorted wheels turn
i'm lost without you girl
just help me get through tonight
and i promise a reward
oh brother please help me out
he told me i'm not alone
he said it'll be alright
so i got back in
we talk and talk and talk
nothing ever gets resolved
beautiful madness surrounds me
where do I go now?
my brother's kicking in the door
everyone is angry at me
i'm kicking myself down
i'm down from the world
i can't get back to where i wanna be
four walls captivate captivity
help me a little baby
she won't listen
oh please oh please disease
get outta me tonight
just one more chance
just one more song
my brothers outside the room
cursing my slurring
telling me to forget
brother saved me
and he don't know it
broken splinter wood
cold fingers and eyes
help me get through tonight
and i promise i'll be alright
oh brother, help me out
i need to get out
my brother's mad at me
because he loves me so
i can't help me tonight
i'm home my pretty girl
at the end of the end
he told me not to quit
said keep on that line
don't go away
further forever down
she gave it to me good
lay in a bed of despair
i want it bad
i want out now
my brother's cursing my slurring
with ghosts outside the door
i can't help me tonight
i'm home oh pretty girl
distorted wheels turn
i'm lost without you girl
just help me get through tonight
and i promise a reward
oh brother please help me out
he told me i'm not alone
he said it'll be alright
CVW
Monday, April 6, 2009
TIRED EYES
I sit the wrong way on an easy chair. I am sideways in violation of design. There is a blanket covered in cat hair that I leave on the chair so that the chair doesn’t get covered in cat hair. At this time of night I don’t care either way. I got a heavy light pointed down behind me. I got the main light hanging above me centered on the ceiling. If you listen close enough, especially late at night, you can hear the sound of electrical current flowing due to an old poor connection of wires. Even that is not free. I sit cock eyed against the designated construction of this seat and search from my Jesus bookmark. It is nearly as old as I am and just as useless. Scripture passages of nonsense like most of my excuses and public escape routines must sound. Page one hundred and twenty one is where I left off mid way through the page at the beginning of a new paragraph.
It starts off easy. I follow along and sink deep into the dead mans words and story that I wish I could have written. Or maybe I’d be happy just to be as widely read as he is and always shall be. It doesn’t really matter either way. I move through a page and realize that I forgot to put on a record. I get up and have already decided on another dead man’s words and sounds to be the background of my literary escape. Crackle needle spin into a harsh voice deep and solid and sometimes hard to articulate. Twangy strings plucked and stroked with hard soul and Deep South rhythm. The kind of shit only a second-generation slave boy could pull off. In my own music I write and play I use barbaric stomping and head thrashing to get my blood pumping. I know the old gods. Respect them deeply. But would never try and pull the wool over the phantom eyes of their legacy. I would think most of them might get that. I might even get a nod for the effort.
Swimming through the words flowing like violent river currents pull me back into the tale. A laugh or smirk or smile or stone-faced stare control my expressions. I am soon right there in the person place and thing I read. Pages after page I can personally relate or befriend some character I know in real life. I can see that I have been there or close to what authors project. The simple idea of all art and how any one individual can get their own relevance from the artist’s expression. I learn new shit I hope to never find and see things that I have not had the pleasure or become shocked at the relevant coincidence of a mutual experience. I look up for one second and one of my cats catches my eye. I watch him lay on the floor licking a cat toy and rubbing his cheeks along side of it. It’s an informal after midnight face wash. It makes me wonder about instinct and human denial of natural law. How people are forced to live beyond their time of death. The grim reaper has been sued, laid off, criticized and been written off as obsolete as doctors sustain “life” under all means no matter the quality or dignity left in the fleshy shell. I will never let myself get there. I’d rather die by my own standards. People used to die at home now they die in sterile hospitals among strangers without dignity or privacy.
I am falling back to the pages and move onto another chapter. Short stories are nice because they require less responsibility and can be finished with more waiting in the wings for next time. It feels like hanging out with a close friend where you can’t get the words out fast enough because you are both spitting prose and picking each others brains in full relation to the next level. I am close to so many people I have never met, never will meet nor would ever want to meet alive or dead. This is perfect. It’s like the close relationship of two roommates one deaf and one mute and their careful choice of what to say. There’s never too much bullshit to worry about because communication is limited and direct and understood or possibly already written. These are authors forever in time waiting to be known by the next idiot who can afford the cover price.
I need this escape. I need those dead words so full of life. It keeps me sane. Having such a close relationship with text written 40 years before I was born… That blows my mind. In punk rock (my categorized culture and lifestyle) we always say “now go make your own”. Go out and live what you have read about. You can’t write a book if you never did it. Why do you think there is an over saturation of modern garbage books, films and music? Maybe because no one can hitchhike anymore? No one can tough out life without a solid career. Too many humans only exist as a piece of shit robot that contributes nothing but self indulgence. No one can find their purpose anymore and it’s due to over saturated over nurtured politically correct over educated unexamined self existence. I will die knowing I tried and will probably fail in miserable misanthropic poverty and hopelessness but I will know that I understand my reason to stay alive. If the world ever gets it or not, fuck them.
I sit among the cats, one now on my lap and one on top of the chair that I employ as eyes pass by the words of wisdom through the filter of self realization and comfort. Sanity within insane stories that make perfect sense to me. My religion and my hope. Relevant and meaningful even if no other eyes open another copy of this. I read until my eyes grow weak. Soon I will complete this current odyssey. Move onto another binded packaged text and so on and so forth. My escape is their truth. It is all for me and anyone else open minded enough to seek out this place of solitude and education. I never learned this shit in school. You have to find it one your own.
It starts off easy. I follow along and sink deep into the dead mans words and story that I wish I could have written. Or maybe I’d be happy just to be as widely read as he is and always shall be. It doesn’t really matter either way. I move through a page and realize that I forgot to put on a record. I get up and have already decided on another dead man’s words and sounds to be the background of my literary escape. Crackle needle spin into a harsh voice deep and solid and sometimes hard to articulate. Twangy strings plucked and stroked with hard soul and Deep South rhythm. The kind of shit only a second-generation slave boy could pull off. In my own music I write and play I use barbaric stomping and head thrashing to get my blood pumping. I know the old gods. Respect them deeply. But would never try and pull the wool over the phantom eyes of their legacy. I would think most of them might get that. I might even get a nod for the effort.
Swimming through the words flowing like violent river currents pull me back into the tale. A laugh or smirk or smile or stone-faced stare control my expressions. I am soon right there in the person place and thing I read. Pages after page I can personally relate or befriend some character I know in real life. I can see that I have been there or close to what authors project. The simple idea of all art and how any one individual can get their own relevance from the artist’s expression. I learn new shit I hope to never find and see things that I have not had the pleasure or become shocked at the relevant coincidence of a mutual experience. I look up for one second and one of my cats catches my eye. I watch him lay on the floor licking a cat toy and rubbing his cheeks along side of it. It’s an informal after midnight face wash. It makes me wonder about instinct and human denial of natural law. How people are forced to live beyond their time of death. The grim reaper has been sued, laid off, criticized and been written off as obsolete as doctors sustain “life” under all means no matter the quality or dignity left in the fleshy shell. I will never let myself get there. I’d rather die by my own standards. People used to die at home now they die in sterile hospitals among strangers without dignity or privacy.
I am falling back to the pages and move onto another chapter. Short stories are nice because they require less responsibility and can be finished with more waiting in the wings for next time. It feels like hanging out with a close friend where you can’t get the words out fast enough because you are both spitting prose and picking each others brains in full relation to the next level. I am close to so many people I have never met, never will meet nor would ever want to meet alive or dead. This is perfect. It’s like the close relationship of two roommates one deaf and one mute and their careful choice of what to say. There’s never too much bullshit to worry about because communication is limited and direct and understood or possibly already written. These are authors forever in time waiting to be known by the next idiot who can afford the cover price.
I need this escape. I need those dead words so full of life. It keeps me sane. Having such a close relationship with text written 40 years before I was born… That blows my mind. In punk rock (my categorized culture and lifestyle) we always say “now go make your own”. Go out and live what you have read about. You can’t write a book if you never did it. Why do you think there is an over saturation of modern garbage books, films and music? Maybe because no one can hitchhike anymore? No one can tough out life without a solid career. Too many humans only exist as a piece of shit robot that contributes nothing but self indulgence. No one can find their purpose anymore and it’s due to over saturated over nurtured politically correct over educated unexamined self existence. I will die knowing I tried and will probably fail in miserable misanthropic poverty and hopelessness but I will know that I understand my reason to stay alive. If the world ever gets it or not, fuck them.
I sit among the cats, one now on my lap and one on top of the chair that I employ as eyes pass by the words of wisdom through the filter of self realization and comfort. Sanity within insane stories that make perfect sense to me. My religion and my hope. Relevant and meaningful even if no other eyes open another copy of this. I read until my eyes grow weak. Soon I will complete this current odyssey. Move onto another binded packaged text and so on and so forth. My escape is their truth. It is all for me and anyone else open minded enough to seek out this place of solitude and education. I never learned this shit in school. You have to find it one your own.
CVW
Friday, April 3, 2009
TUESDAY 2:02 AM
It was 2:02 AM. The front door squeals open. I step out into the black dead of night. Bone shivers creeping are warmed by the solitude and the silence. The time of the year where winter is still on the floor kicking but fading fast as spring is suffocating the life out of cold-hearted winter. Distant vehicles create a low hum. The high-tension wires that stretch across the barren field and hug the wooded tree line are behind me buzzing. Any electronic light is very far away. Natural light has the night off. The impending darkness rules tonight. I walk to my truck grab my cigarettes and view the vast scene. I wonder about what hides in the void tonight. Resident creatures scurry close by. Bizarre sounds of unknown origin howl in the distance. Sometime they sound as if they are moving closer but usually they retreat further into their illusive yet instinctual missions. Other strange beasts might be roaming around until the crack of dawn. Maybe some undiscovered secrets. You’ll never see them. They are anomalies of nature’s honest brutality. I would rather know them than my own kind. I could learn so much. I might be allowed to join them. Eat filthy foliage and eventually warm meat. I could leave all of my insecurities behind and focus on surviving. Fucking a mate with force. Make my way to the dominant role. Hunting with speed skill teeth and refine my biped primate advantages. Maybe hunt my old kind since I would know how they work. Something of old horror comic book tales. I would find it real. Something new and dangerous all for me. No more rules but the law of the pack. Natural law. Skeptics please go away. Stop reading this and go watch your television set and see if that can inspire some imagination or borrowed creative unforced thoughts. Those channels shove it down your throat. Entertainment is better live then telecast. Go find out for yourself. Make yourself sweat at least once a day, in any fashion. It’s healthy no matter what your doctor of spouse says.
Self-realization kicks in. I haven’t been this alone in quite some time. All of the animals are asleep inside. My lady lay in deep warm slumber. I have no reason to sleep. I hardly ever do. Lucid nightmares. Hating the day and the people who live in it. Art work saved for nights freedom. Simple pleasure sought in a curious film. Sleeping pills counter act insomnia. Lying awake next to a beautiful creature smarter and better than I. The morning pills are supposed to make me normal. I doubt their chemistry and science and controlled studies under the guise of categorized human egotism. Paranoia rages from anxiety. Attention deficit disorder mixed with depression and mood swings make me a step closer to the beast. A hopeless tomorrow stands behind yesterdays. They all battle it out deep inside, void of what we know as calculating time. Time is sometimes cruel, more than not but it can vary through one’s perception. The kind that’s chosen, dormant or taught. I know I can beat it all with time…
I haven’t felt this useless in a few days time. Loosing my value like sand grains falling in an hourglass. It’s their entire world that I just rent by default. Loosing my hope for any gainful purpose. Their logic is skewed and is loosing face more and more among their public pedestrian members everyday. What was deemed strong and dominant has fallen to fear and frustration. It’s a grim collective outlook. I could care less. Not much is all that different for me. I could deal with the worst, which has yet to come for us all. I’m not sure those around me feel the same. I am alone in that ghetto mentality. I wait for none of it to happen. I will exploit it to the best of my means. My ego is in her pocket book. I am now a token housewife facing domestic duties. I’m not that good at it. It’s sloppy work on my part for the most. Like a well-trained ape it’s not difficult. Not much unlike my old paychecks and what lead up to them. Self-meaningful distractions allure me.
The scenery enamors me once again. My focus shifts. Heavy chaotic real shit we will never be able to learn from any living being. They can break it down to the tiniest “element in a sea of deep organic compounds” since way before you and me. Two billion years of progress comes with a hefty price tag. It’s even more tragic when it’s all wasted on material distractions. Unattainable by all mankind. No matter how far our perceived progress moves it’s only a flash of time and it is insignificant. That bums people out. Tough shit. Accept your fate.
A few minutes have passed. I turn towards the sky. I miss some close friends that are somewhere far, far away who may be looking at the same star that I am at this very given moment. They are probably intoxicated and enjoying what I miss. I must admit a bit of jealousy and admiration for their journey. How selfish of me. I stand here sober and relevant in contemplation. They are free from that daytime boring melodramatic soap opera world. Forced televised serial curiosity in half hour full resolutions of the beautiful and important characters and all the fake people who play them episode after painful episode until it gets cancelled. A pure lack of interest does them in. I despise it. I see it poison in the ugly people on the street. Making themselves up with make up fashion and insecure lies. Self interest in emoting a lousy false image. Nudity is humbling to most of them. They wait in line for useless materials. It’s nothing that will ever amount to shit. Just sit on a shelf and collect dust. Gifts, bargains and sales on over priced under necessary items to boost an unhealthy economy with gluttonous consumer spending that they tell us will help all of us in our current social disease. It makes me think of holiday’s are celebrations of self-important bullshit. Where are their origins? All based on memorial nonsense of fairy tales that people worship and hold massive amounts of faith in. So stupid. Friendliness and manners are filtered through common courtesy and genetic obligation. I feel more alone and isolated. That is not necessarily a bad thing. Not for anyone to experience. Humility makes soft men strong after time unless you are genetically weak by nature. When will a confidence pill be released or is it already on the market.
The current thoughts of social inequities and issues make me regret the brain activity I just wasted. None of it matters. The people of the Far East used to be masters of meditation, free from such pedestrian distraction but the religious aspect ruined even that. A select few remain in populating this planet. They are fading away. So is this satirical inspiring evening. I force my mind back to its lonely beauty. The barren trees hold a sense of mystery and skeletal uneasiness. Luckily I enjoy the macabre. I scour the immediate lack of foliage within my rented yard as far as the darkness will allow. I acknowledge the solitude of knowing most are sleeping right now. I am a ghost in the driveway. No one knows where I am right now. That makes me smile. I wish another could be here to share this profound sense of liberty and understand it right next to me without the exchange of any words or expression. That would make this a nearly perfect evening. I don’t discount that notion and it makes it all the more important to me. Inspiring enough to document. Maybe to forever fall onto blind eyes or deaf ears and it wouldn’t matter. I deduce that the existences of these words are relevant, even if unknown by another soul. It doesn’t change the nighttime and it’s bewildered secrets. I might read it to an audience of my pets tonight. Just for the hell of it. I understand that will not compute the language but maybe they will feel the energy of my simple words. Talking about nothing at all. I love this shit. It keeps me alive and well. Find the time to take a moment that is available to step outside within the night. Find your own reason and keep it inside or share it with someone or everyone. Either way it matters not. It’s the idea of self-hope that supersedes the practicality or significance to worry about any impact on any other soul but it’s author. I am out there. Do not disturb my solace. I will respect yours. It so simple yet so few can understand.
Self-realization kicks in. I haven’t been this alone in quite some time. All of the animals are asleep inside. My lady lay in deep warm slumber. I have no reason to sleep. I hardly ever do. Lucid nightmares. Hating the day and the people who live in it. Art work saved for nights freedom. Simple pleasure sought in a curious film. Sleeping pills counter act insomnia. Lying awake next to a beautiful creature smarter and better than I. The morning pills are supposed to make me normal. I doubt their chemistry and science and controlled studies under the guise of categorized human egotism. Paranoia rages from anxiety. Attention deficit disorder mixed with depression and mood swings make me a step closer to the beast. A hopeless tomorrow stands behind yesterdays. They all battle it out deep inside, void of what we know as calculating time. Time is sometimes cruel, more than not but it can vary through one’s perception. The kind that’s chosen, dormant or taught. I know I can beat it all with time…
I haven’t felt this useless in a few days time. Loosing my value like sand grains falling in an hourglass. It’s their entire world that I just rent by default. Loosing my hope for any gainful purpose. Their logic is skewed and is loosing face more and more among their public pedestrian members everyday. What was deemed strong and dominant has fallen to fear and frustration. It’s a grim collective outlook. I could care less. Not much is all that different for me. I could deal with the worst, which has yet to come for us all. I’m not sure those around me feel the same. I am alone in that ghetto mentality. I wait for none of it to happen. I will exploit it to the best of my means. My ego is in her pocket book. I am now a token housewife facing domestic duties. I’m not that good at it. It’s sloppy work on my part for the most. Like a well-trained ape it’s not difficult. Not much unlike my old paychecks and what lead up to them. Self-meaningful distractions allure me.
The scenery enamors me once again. My focus shifts. Heavy chaotic real shit we will never be able to learn from any living being. They can break it down to the tiniest “element in a sea of deep organic compounds” since way before you and me. Two billion years of progress comes with a hefty price tag. It’s even more tragic when it’s all wasted on material distractions. Unattainable by all mankind. No matter how far our perceived progress moves it’s only a flash of time and it is insignificant. That bums people out. Tough shit. Accept your fate.
A few minutes have passed. I turn towards the sky. I miss some close friends that are somewhere far, far away who may be looking at the same star that I am at this very given moment. They are probably intoxicated and enjoying what I miss. I must admit a bit of jealousy and admiration for their journey. How selfish of me. I stand here sober and relevant in contemplation. They are free from that daytime boring melodramatic soap opera world. Forced televised serial curiosity in half hour full resolutions of the beautiful and important characters and all the fake people who play them episode after painful episode until it gets cancelled. A pure lack of interest does them in. I despise it. I see it poison in the ugly people on the street. Making themselves up with make up fashion and insecure lies. Self interest in emoting a lousy false image. Nudity is humbling to most of them. They wait in line for useless materials. It’s nothing that will ever amount to shit. Just sit on a shelf and collect dust. Gifts, bargains and sales on over priced under necessary items to boost an unhealthy economy with gluttonous consumer spending that they tell us will help all of us in our current social disease. It makes me think of holiday’s are celebrations of self-important bullshit. Where are their origins? All based on memorial nonsense of fairy tales that people worship and hold massive amounts of faith in. So stupid. Friendliness and manners are filtered through common courtesy and genetic obligation. I feel more alone and isolated. That is not necessarily a bad thing. Not for anyone to experience. Humility makes soft men strong after time unless you are genetically weak by nature. When will a confidence pill be released or is it already on the market.
The current thoughts of social inequities and issues make me regret the brain activity I just wasted. None of it matters. The people of the Far East used to be masters of meditation, free from such pedestrian distraction but the religious aspect ruined even that. A select few remain in populating this planet. They are fading away. So is this satirical inspiring evening. I force my mind back to its lonely beauty. The barren trees hold a sense of mystery and skeletal uneasiness. Luckily I enjoy the macabre. I scour the immediate lack of foliage within my rented yard as far as the darkness will allow. I acknowledge the solitude of knowing most are sleeping right now. I am a ghost in the driveway. No one knows where I am right now. That makes me smile. I wish another could be here to share this profound sense of liberty and understand it right next to me without the exchange of any words or expression. That would make this a nearly perfect evening. I don’t discount that notion and it makes it all the more important to me. Inspiring enough to document. Maybe to forever fall onto blind eyes or deaf ears and it wouldn’t matter. I deduce that the existences of these words are relevant, even if unknown by another soul. It doesn’t change the nighttime and it’s bewildered secrets. I might read it to an audience of my pets tonight. Just for the hell of it. I understand that will not compute the language but maybe they will feel the energy of my simple words. Talking about nothing at all. I love this shit. It keeps me alive and well. Find the time to take a moment that is available to step outside within the night. Find your own reason and keep it inside or share it with someone or everyone. Either way it matters not. It’s the idea of self-hope that supersedes the practicality or significance to worry about any impact on any other soul but it’s author. I am out there. Do not disturb my solace. I will respect yours. It so simple yet so few can understand.
CVW
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