Dungeon of Ill Conceived Purchases

Trinkets and TchotchkesThings of no earthly valueExcept for the camerasLustful wandering eyeBaubles and banglesSad clowns and marionettesLive in the basementIn the back of my eyes mind

The Heard Merde Conspiracy Theory

I have heardAbout the merdeThat graced Jack Sparrows bedThe alleged merdeA human turdWas not from mans best friendThe blonde chanteuseHad let one looseThe merde heard round the worldThe image clearHer bleach blonde hairHow I’ll remember this girlI find it fittingHer bed shittingThe best Hollywood can pro deuceShe took a dumpA real rump thumpDoth Thundered from her caboose


RelationshipsAre jigsaw puzzle piecesNo two pieces are the sameBut somehow they fitIt’s once in a lifetime- If you get lucky …That you are one ofThe jigsaw pieces that fit

My Aim is Ghoul

I’m shooting for something hauntinglyBeautifulBeautifulI’m searching for something in a minorSkeleton KeySkeleton KeyI’m hunting for a haunting That’s a reflectionOf MeOf MeChorusAccurateGothicMy aim is ghoul

Arturia V Collection 8 Synclavier V2

Besides Cubase – which I love dearly, its closely followed by Arturia’s V Collection 8. I purchased both on sale and just upgraded both for very reasonable prices. When I first got back into music two years ago, I erroneously purchased a couple hardware synth modules. The Novation Peak was the best hardware synth I’ve ever had (I had Roland Juno’s way back in…

Gods Half Acre

Old headstonesWeathered and greyA touch of mossWe mourn their lossWe mourn their lossWe mourn their lossWe mourn their lossThey left this earth So very long agoWe loved some dearlyWere they ever here?Were they ever here?Were they ever here?Were they ever here?Time they sayHeals all woundsSome were rottenBetter forgottenBetter forgottenBetter forgottenBetter forgotten

Grass Gone Awry

Distill your thoughts Whisky and RyeLet yourself goLet yourself goWherever you go There you areWhat’s done is doneWhat’s done is doneThe future looks brightAs it always hasEmbrace the sunEmbrace the sunChorusThe Rye GrassHas gone AwryI’ve got to cut itIts ten feet high

Concrete Sentinels

This song was written because I had this Man Ray image pop up in my head. Pointed skywardAlmost scrapingConcrete SentinelsHas us gapingBusiness logicIt makes no sensePacked like sardinesWay too intenseMan was notMade for suchSequestered livingIn towering hutsChorusIf you laid themOn their sideWould they feelMore inviting?

Barleywine Underbite

He was old salty captain SmithOf a glorious sailing shipHis right leg was made of woodWith a flask lashed to his hipFilled to the brim always had heAn ancient exotic grogBrewed with finest malted barleyAnd soggy peat from the northern bogHe snarled at the crashing wavesAnd the wind in the flapping sailsHe learned to be a tough little buggerFrom the short time he spent…

Radio Opera

Metropolitan Radio OperaArt song singersRadio wavesBroadcast to the city belowFrom the heavens up aboveThrough the midnight etherBygone era industrial lightTubes and speakersForgotten gravesChorusWhat’s new is nowWhat’s done is doneWhat’s new is nowWhat’s done is done