Before I bounce (Art and writing from the archives Part II)

I run UN organized proponents of wisdom; I favor a childish pretense before I master your affection.

I want to stand in a meadow think of silly happy words like dandy, swell, and gosh.

Making sense of emotional dialog turns into a dream, a convoluted entourage of crazy misshaped scenarios, a turnover, a sneaky dance I use to whisp unnoticed through the most complicated and dangerous places.

I am unscathed.

Although, not pushing for what I want, I still know what it is, I'll know you when I see you.

Just. (Art and writing form the Archives Part I)

I can smell it coming down the pipe, my nose pressed against the barometer of predication. I will pull away and leave a ring and a residue, trailing my extension those close to me are picking up its trace, this old dog is learning new tricks. There is no need for dance and for games, this waltz has no smiles, this precession travels a different way. I am no more use to memory than I am to having it.

Tricks and mingling, a fickle fight an agonistic digression, these are but playful in pretense of the martial and militant internecine that any energy which stands in my way will feel. I may not be standing at the consummative conclusion of this aforementioned waltz but I will not be on my knees.

Finding myself content is a serum, and I drink it.

I am the keeper of something truly spectacular and I in my duplicitous nature, in one swift motion if given the chance could and would share this with the world and keep it to my own selfish needs, all in the same moment. ....

I know I will never escape this place alone; I need a gatekeeper, a guide. Unknowing she will arrive and set me free and although, unshackled, the cell will follow me for life but now I am on the outside, and thus the keeper is mine instead, a sweet justice for the greater good


.

The window and the stone. (Art and writing from the BB sessions, Part I)

A strange mystical unleashed beast, my heart stomps fields and recreates flowering feasts.

We fill with love this home, That is why this time, the window shall break the stone.

A wondering bard from the east, my heart plays the directions and shows 

the world it’s musical priest. 

Recall falling towards you, memories ensure I’ll never be alone,

this is why I won’t be amazed, when the window breaks the stone.

An innocent child emotions tidy and replete, my heart is open and ready, prepared for the neat.

Everything that surrounds us now was made with the truth of love, all on our own,

Which is why it sits still and not cast, the window will never even have to face the stone.

BARTA

Sasquatch '10

Just a quick note, I will be posting pics from the sas show this year soon as well as a few other things.

If there is anything in particular that you are anxious to see let me know. I took 1,387 pictures so it will take me a few weeks to go through them pick out the gems and touch them up.

Thanks again to everyone that made this weekend so amazing.

Cheers,
Matthew

Life Under The Willow (lyrics)

Ah, aa, There is pressure, stains in my life from gripping,
Ah, aa, There’s ways to measure, all this meaning, keep from slipping.

Fire is a whisper, fire is a willow,
Fire is a whisper, fire is a willow,
Fire is weeping, fire in the tree.
Burn the willow.

Oh, oh, See you in the veil, see you in the mirror
Oh, oh, See you in the Nile, see you in the river.

Water is a ripple, water is life,
Water is a ripple, water is life,
Water is flowing, water in the river.
Flood my life.

Ah, ah, Fire on the river,
Oh, oh, Water on the willow.

Ah, ah, Fire on the river,
Oh, oh, Water on the willow.

Talking distance

Certain things in certain places, I make room in my life for certain faces.  

Music is softer when it’s our music, timing it together

Don’t imagine it without me, finding better places, being forever.        

Certain things in certain places, I make room in my life for certain faces.      

Life is softer when it’s our life, planning it together

Don’t imagine it without me,  changing the weather.

Certain things in certain places, I make room in my life for certain faces.

There’s you, there’s me

There’s you, then there’s me

There’s you, there’s me

There is us, and then there is what we can be,

You and me.

Reading Me

Someone once said, a city, beautiful. 

Why your windows when I need them.

Someone once said, it’s friendly, made for you. 

Why your love, when she needs him. 

At least nine ways to make it happen, 

and a mess of ways to map it again.

This time, we can save, one. 

Someone once said, your times design, 

thought before. Why your life's remind. 

Someone once said, nothings incurred, 

meant to be. Why we begin fire, it burned. 

And there takes someone to be, 

and there takes a starting plee.

And there takes someone to say, 

and there breaks a madness you cant pay.

And there takes someone to be free, 

and there it lacks imagining by we.

Lips smacking, run away, 

your in love again, on holiday. 

Someone once said, a city, beautiful. 

Why your windows when I need them.

Someone once said, it’s friendly, made for you. 

Why your love, she needs him.