Waves of the West

Yes, I know friends; those who've written for updates... thanks; so here's one for ya. Composed a few months ago when images of such things came to mmined. I love the west coast, more than most coasts; at least at this point. Here's why:

WAVES OF THE WEST

I DO miss the smell of the beach,
Hypnotic scents of time to sand,
Gazing; trickling, dripping, slipping
Through slivers, fists unfolded
In the palm of mmy hand.
I miss finding peace,
While reaching too;
Over and through heavens shades
Walking; dune spills into moonlight,
Stars light soaring, grassy islands
Spawning thin, thick, green, towering,
Wild, dried blades cowering;
Swaying smoothly or
Cackling tempestuously.
No direction mist,
With each kiss of summer’s
Fall’s turmoil, drumm is.
Mad, more brutal winter’s winds
Stage a violence, rage page, grim;
Two never forgotten in a haze
I sat, raptured in warmth of the day,
Evening’s cool,
Coldest of nights,
Smiled, screamed triumph, jewels!
Cried in awe of
Tranquil golden dusks,
See gulls, sandpipers
Lust to fly, sail gusts;
Each awakening Shine of
Dawn’s trial by fire
Brilliant beams traced
Sun’s face swelled in
Fusing mmelodies din
Changing rhythms, spins
Renewing, re: viewing fins
Rushing to revere, swim with
Waves of the west.

Mother Nature's Hill

Maybe it was because ever since a baby when mmy folks lived in the country of western Pennsylvania and they tied mme to a tree in order to prevent their little mischief maker from running away, spending time in and with dirt is one of mmy favourite things to do; no matter how hard it is or how long it may take to help rearrange what Mother Nature has set before us; tackling the disheveled or what seems like an overrun jungle and turning it into a different sight or even a lush producing food source is also fun; especially when set on a hungry table.

This I imagine is what keeps mmy feat on a shovel so to speak or any number of activities, gardening or otherwise that help the muscles stay active and the tiny rivers of red moving along at a mostly steady pace.

The Daily Lilies and Hosta plants donated by a friend are working out to be a welcome sanctuary to both this guy and the invited guests of Mother Nature’s bounty.

After more time spent observing and enjoying, a short Haiku was inspired while sitting at the sighed of nature’s alms. The smell of the wind, the flit of the huge and tiny bumble bee’s adventure/search for the colourful sustenance; butterflies and birds of all designs and sighs is come to the well to drink, eat the seeds and enjoy the bread that day bye day is sowed 'fore them.

Needless to say, there’s quite an interested and hungry local flock of flying and crawling everything’s that seem to be waiting and gathering on the nearest telephone wires, fence posts, trees, on and under leaves and such… as won had hoped ‘fore.

The bug in the close up photo you may notice in the foreground on one of the Daily Lilly leaves? I just couldn’t get that critter to stand still is why it’s out of focus. Maybe next time I'll have learned how to speak bug.

Saved left over bird seed from a previous garden is also set out on the flat rock next to the green, round, water/pool just for the critter’s hunger pangs. They seem to like to have dinner and drinks there as well. There and in front of the log is also where the most likely droppings can be gathered by the next in line of the food chain.

When breaking up and distributing bird sized portions of a few old slices of bread early one evening, one, quite daring tiny swallow flew from the fence and landed about six feet away from where I was standing.

Our symbiotic conversation lasted for almost a minute. It was seemingly unafraid of anything while enjoying the days catch… such a tiny thing… such a big thrill... ‘fore mme…

This 2nd photo with empty chairs is to present … well, you get the point don’t you?

A First Bumble Bee Today
Lilac, Flit, Lilac
Hosta la’ Vista Bumble

Flights Sight - Gathering Table
Swallows, Immerse, Cool
Starlings, Cardinals – Greet Pool

Four, Six, Eight Legs, Slithering
Released - Your Pleasure
Mother Nature, Here, Wear One

Safe ~ Risk

March 30, 2010
...questions we ask ourselves from time to time? We'll see; This Blog has taken a lot of time. Most of them weren't as short as this one is. Most of them have come from writings started in advance with a little idea, a sentence or two then worked on and presented here.

I'mm working on more of those while getting involved in other art projects that are taking up even more time than I expected; most of what's coming relates to the poem on this blog. I'll be back with those stories quicker than we may be able to make this decision;

SAFE ~ RISK

the risk!
risk it
SAFE

risk it
SAFE
saved

the risk?
SAFE?
risk it?
risk it?
SAFE
saved -?

risk it??
SAFE??

the risk
SAFE??
risk it??
what if??
safe??

the risk???
safe???
risk it???

safe???
risk???
safe???

risk????

MMusic in Bloom

March 29, 2010

Dub bull jammed with a dude
Cat licks schooly would room
Disk pea an a guy end
His auld tea time tunes
His feeling tolled, sang to
All bookie – his bliss
I hell’d, come pally mman
Close dose page is ‘n gist
Git on wit it buoyed
Slay it! Knock out chore head
Wear grate, out! That scents
Know way you’ve blown; dread
Pour Site ‘n sound’s schmaltz
Mild graze in ‘tween’s page
Goin’ one, two the next like
Know one care’s you’re stage
Your view, movie B you
A peer rant chew are
Your clothes spin the tail
Who ever; you’re far
Sow OH? Pin your I’s end
Jet’s jam overt hear
List in – Coltrane mmuh mman
Ten Thousand? Know fear
Say you’ve knot put time in?
“…As many,” says you
Shake know difference, shake lamb
Oui, know your fears, poo!!
Just jam width your soul
We’re, heart’s on our sleeve
Get Offa that stool; pigeon
Aye know, when believe that
Once you let gogh come
Yule easy; gist; try
They hear you mman; blows!
The point? Out! Willed, fly
That’s not all there is ‘course
Next time booked, you fake
Maybe some one like who?
Will coals you, they’re rake
Takes less than a pocket
To groove with in won
Mowed lawns, vahz is, flowers
Tall towers; weigh gums
Hand feasts, door; know less
Pow were sum, nil, end none
When mmusic breed’s test
They’ll listen, smiles, fun
Or even next cheer haps’
They’ll grant you, fine space
‘Stead of out in the cold
Audition’s diss faced
Or other then hid in
Town’s thirsty slight bash
You’ll Shine, when they’re smitten
You’re oven, they’re ash in of
‘Course won neva nose
Pry or a tease whished
Doze castles on hills
Leave some, play – shake’s fish
Your flower a weight’s bloom.

The MMan Up Stairs

March 28, 2010

Eyes wake up in the morning two the creaks of hurried feat
The mman upstairs in rising stalks his bedroom’s squeaky street
A brace sieve sounds our endless as he shuffles o’er his floor
Thuds wake mme up; heels never stop until heaves out the door

Heels promptly wakes at 6a.m. each day clocks on the plop
Bowels groan, pounds, coughs, his lungs decayed,
His body sounds our rot.
Heels opens doors, craps toilet‘s flush
His cat jumps off the shelf
Steels stomps hard floors in cease ain’t he,
Aye, wonder threw mmy self

He shadows mme each time aye slide to john’s room ‘fore relief
Heels sound as if they follow mme, from room to room for grief
I’ll sit, din’s quiet aisle here shush steps, ass overhead he weights
Until through, drained then chases mme to kitchen’s search for plates

I’ll make yumm food, prepare phew meals,
Wild creaks swirl overhead
Our steps will match, well seemingly
While burghers, eggs are bred
Spaghetti sauce, veal parmesan,
Hamm sandwich, oar juice drink
Reverb burr rating creaks, thuds; whack it!
Blares at crypt ticks, plinks.

I’ll due dry dishes, wipe holes, stove end, open fridge, top drawer
Heels step rite up, as zoned mmy knows, or forehead is their floor
Insulation never fix is loud socks, know nude feet
Through lost he strolls, gag in gin coughs, his buss stops on pit’s street

Treks in the next line, sit, stop, yes
I’ll gladly relish warms
Win hope full sky’s there’s no up stares
To wake calm sleep; heal storms
I’ll rouse, win sun rise wonder ring,
How creaky guise is doing
I’ll n’er miss screech is chokes, cat heaves, groans,
Snores, pounds, depth end spewing.

Johnny Ciambotti

March 27, 2010

Yes, we're all getting on in age here but all mmy limbs still move, the gray matter's still intact and I can still kick your ass on the set; and of course do too this great tech knowledge E, everyone can be found pretty easily on the net, eh EC?

I’mm also a painter who has never stopped what I've loved doing most in life since the age of 12; playing drumms; still with the same fire and determination on the kit I’ve always had; changed a bit to ad the higher register and Latin sounds of the LP bongos which also did away with the common set-up of the double tom same dome; which added a bit more surprises just to keep you on your toes.

Now as they say, on with the most important stuff: Johnny Ciambotti.

He was really the first Clover band member I talked to and I guess the one who had to be satisfied to accept this drummer on his team. When he did, from then on, he stood next to mme more times than I can remember.

It’s just part of playing together as a bassist and a drummer do. We were a team at that time. We were the foundation of one of the incarnations that we built with Clover; our band at that time.

I’mm a right handed person who plays drummset right handed. As a drummer I’ve always preferred to have whoever was playing bass to be on mmy left side. Unless chart reading from a mmusic stand it’s the side that mmy hi-hat is always on and where mmy head, eyes and ears do the most work.

That’s where I remember Johnny smiling at mme most of the time. That’s of course if he wasn’t singing the high harmony part with the other members of Clover. Usually it was the four guys up front; Johnny being one of them. Hopper, the keyboardist was as a rule to one side or the other until he came out front to dance.

When I was performing with Clover, in and after the UK days, Johnny liked wearing a clean white Fedora; white or black pants with red suspenders and either a white or a black shirt. He also wore mirrored shades most of the time on stage or not.

You can see that image of him in the photos taken of us in 1976; taken at Victoria Station in London and can be viewed here: http://www.clover-infopage.com

Much before moving to England, we played the earliest concert we ever had at the Cow Palace in San Francisco, California. There were supposed to be three bands including us but another was added. We all decided it was so early that we thought to wear pajamas on stage. Johnny wore a red set of long johns. His personality was red.

I didn’t hear until today, Saturday that Johnny had passed away in what seems to be unfortunate circumstances. He was in Los Angeles, California where he lived and worked as a Chiropractor besides doing gigs with lots of other people. While being operated on for something else I guess the doc’s had to deal with an aneurysm that they couldn’t and that was it. The net has more info.

Needless to say mmy condolences are extended to Gia his daughter, his family and friends; sad to know he’s gone. Although I’ve not seen nor heard from Johnny for a long time, I still feel the loss; like I would if any of the Clover guys I played with were to pass. For more reasons than I can write here, the two years for mme are lasting a lifetime.

Awhile ago I had mentioned what a great team/rhythm section/duo I thought Johnny and I were. From the very beginning we worked at trying to sound like one sound. Anyone who can tell will hear his notes and mmy bass drumm were in synch.

I’mm not saying we were perfect all the time but we were as close as most. It felt good to feel Johnny next to mme. When he left to sing up front it was even better when he returned to stand ‘back there’ with mme.

Johnny always had a good energy, smile and warmth about him. He wasn’t one of those bassists you may see who just stand stoically on stage while playing. The mmusic made him move his body.

Short story of Johnny here; The middle days of Clover really. He was also crazy at times, that’s for sure. The days when we weren’t living in England for that long. Johnny used to drink a lot and just get nuts; like the stories anyone hears of Rock ‘n Roll bands destroying things while being a bit past the point of sobriety. Elevator and hallway pisses; moving paintings;just plain over the top...

One time in the van he was so drunk and cantankerous; he was looking for trouble. He and I were in the back seat. He just grabbed a handful of hair on one of the guy’s who were sitting in the front and started pulling it out; just one of his uncontrolled, unpredictable days.

Sheesh, after playing with him for about two years there’s so many stories that come to mmind. Most of them happy ones where I can picture him and his mustached smile; after just popping raw garlic cloves in his mouth; or eating vegetarian, whenever that was.

Johnny was something else. For as short as our relationship was compared to this lifetime, he was a great team mate. Some people you just don’t forget. I’ve missed him; I always have. From the very beginning of our first handshake when we looked in each others eyes, I felt his heart.

Rest in peace pal.

Notes Due Tell

March 26, 2010

NOTES DUE TELL

Approaching rooms unfurnished,
Leaving notes of the dour.
Leaving notes on the wall is
Leaving note’s clutch, the shower.

Leaving notes spills the lay - dulls.
Leaving notes plies the whish.
Leaving notes sting’s the say - bulls.
Leaving notes? L- 7-ish.

Leaving notes tear’s the sealing.
Leaving notes off - the curb’s.
Leaving notes paw’s - a peal - wrings’.
Leaving notes throe’s - disturbs.

Leaving notes burn’s the kitsch in.
Leaving notes fry’s in pan.
Leaving notes weave gone, fit’s sin.
Leaving notes dam’s the spam.

Leaving notes core - deplore weighs.
Leaving notes climb’s toot - tines.
Leaving notes reek’s the ploy, praise.
Leaving notes spits the times.

Leaving notes sprinkles din sighed.
Leaving notes hang’s two dry.
Leaving notes scent, “Out width the tied!”
Leaving notes buy ‘n bide?
Leaving notes by end . . . . Bye.