Do Te La So Fa Me Re Do.
Peter's notes go downwards:
it's Do to Do
to rhyme with so-and-so.
It's door to door
just five small minutes
from my abode I go
across the way
to reach the church
that is St Peter's.
We hear that Do to Do
descend as now we go
from door to door, just so.
This so-and-so
will make his way
towards those bells that call us
down and down
from door to door
from Do to Do.
Peter is there.
He wears eight rings
as sonorous sounds.
They take me so,
from Do to Do:
Do Te La So Fa Me Re Do.
(written 16 Sep 2026)
The plaster in Rick’s place was always flaking near the doorway,
eaten away by damp heat and cheap tobacco smoke
that hung like dirty lace off the cedar joists.
Back in the corner sat a stunted, yellowed box—
a five-octave upright slapped with salmon and faded gold,
its pedals worn down to raw, scuffed brass.
It wasn’t built for concert halls. Just a pine-cased crate
that smelled of spilled Cointreau and stale olive brine.
Heavy teak doors kept the street noise out,
but couldn’t block the shuffle of black-market transit papers
passing under the low oil lamps.
Then Sam laid his knuckles on the keys,
cracked ivory, half-sticking from the salt air,
and the room went dead quiet.
She stood in the entry, silk coat catching the light,
asking for that song from Paris
before the tanks rolled in.
Rick didn't yell. He just stopped dead in his tracks,
watching the smoke curl off his cigarette
where it rested on the edge of the wood.
“Play it,” he muttered, his voice flat as gravel,
and the little wooden box gave up the only thing it had left.
------------------Embouchure----------
------------------------------------------
------------------------------------------
bore--Bell---Valves---------Slides------
---------------Articulation---------------
-------------------------------------------
THE SLUR
---------------
_____________
reaching the limit of his intelligence
she felt more obligated to the other
feeling a need to
process her feelings
to rebuild emotional intimacy
that intimacy she needed
from the other man
so she could feel validated
Expressing emotions aloud
unfulfilled needs in her
current primary relationship
such as a lack of emotional
connection, excitement, and validation
--------------------------------------------
I already got me someone else
(Since you already have someone else
tell me what you are looking to do
so we can move forward)
------------------------------------------
Whats ah man to do
tell me
whats auh man to do?
---------------------------------------
Chops and woodshedding
-----------------------------------------
-----------------------------------------
her fingers glide
across the waking piano
morning notes rise
soft as dawn’s breath
the day begins singing
I hid a firefly,
its wings beating against the low strings
like a secret refusing winter.
Your “I love you”s are no longer words;
they have taken the shape of tiny silver fish
crossing my nights, leaving behind them
a trail of crumpled moonlight.
I gather them in a chipped cup,
near the window where the rain writes
alphabets no one can pronounce.
The last notes never truly die.
They simply change their calling:
some become stardust on sleeves,
others keep watch over the lighthouses of sleeping ships.
I answer with my silences,
those transparent birds nesting in my throat.
They know your name better than my voice does.
When dawn unfolds its nautical charts,
I find your refrain beneath the skin of my fears,
in the hum of weary streetlamps,
in an orange forgotten on the table,
in the tiny heart of ordinary things.
I love you too,
not like a promise,
but like an underground river
that keeps singing far from prying eyes.
As I'm here today, tomorrow a row away
Fibonacci conscious and novice of the fact
Eso-meta-psyche intact in static intersections
Theoretic physics listed
Spooky observer directed undetectables
Far fetched skeptic sketch initiated contact
Star Trek
& the cotton-mouthed bliss is
a life i dissolve into
can anybody apart from us feel?
amid solar pulses i exist under your orbit,
speaking into you
bright-bodied in rampant succesion to lone Junes
from when the days were long
and realisations sprung like fresh fruit, the first bite
thirsty after a winter drought
ive always been a trite conversationalist
but now we exist beneath the macabre skies,
in wake of the suns divorce
speak to me in those laden prophecies
the language you save for disasters
my words scatter within your radiations and i am pool-drunk
chlorine chasing a summer theophany,
busy understanding the world through you
OLD DIRTY MUSICAL NOTES
FROM THE GROUND
Listen to a song nobody wants to listen to,
The beautiful notes thrown to the ground,
Torn and spat upon as worthless,
Stricken and rejected as useless.
The stone which the builders rejected has just become the chief cornerstone.
A bruised reed,
Made into a cheap flute,
A diminishing wick swiftly dying.
A symphony that everyone has counted as worthless,
Just like the words of the ancient prophets.
I took the old, dirtied musical notes from the muddy ground,
Made them into a dirge
That predicts the end.
The smoldering wick was trimmed and forced
To give light into a dark world.
Hi.
I want to start with 'hi.'
It might seem like a lot of work to get to where I see you, and you see me,
But who's to say we must go with the flow or not skip steps?
I want you to know that I am in this totally,
I am laying it all down to get to know you.
So, hi, I am here.
.
.
.
.
For a couple of years, you were my favourite spot.
But I don't want to get to know the me that knew you.
I'd rather be in denial of that person.
I'm too lazy to get to know a confused stranger.
.
.
.
.
Now, I am reminded of them again
Feelings and memories suppressed
But that familiar throb pulls them back into my consciousness
A decade ago, that place seemed familiar to me
And for all I know now, I was surviving that same place
the nose chakra vibrates
celebrating pranic breath drawn
commingled with bliss that never abates
God’s boundless grace is what presence counts on
the thirty three stringed spine as always stands erect
with tranquil heart balancing all energies in its fold
as a receptor we simply do as God does direct
revealing our aura aflame in hues of gold
awareness bilocation is now the norm
dancing in form and motionless in the void
kundalini moves as she likes birthing a bliss storm
whilst Shiva facilitates existence in stillness unalloyed
with ego erased we no longer weigh, measure or size
assigning no meanings to benedictions of grace
as we metamorphose we slowly do realise
God always holds us in close embrace
How you moved through me like music
that’s filled with the glow of limelight.
You shared the secrets of your trick,
how you moved through me like music.
Expert hands that know when to pick,
thin notes lie in a chord that’s tight.
How you moved through me like music
that’s filled with the glow of limelight.
("Original Mind", 2017, original mixed media encaustic)
If awareness is the ground of being
Then consciousness is the fabric
Woven to cloak it
Awareness is the face we have before birth
Consciousness is the veil we shield it with
(2022)
Vision of sunrises and sunsets
Tomorrows uncertain
When alone not alone
The skies watch and observe
Life throws curve balls
Complexity at its finest
Standing in courage for the challenge
Battle mark ready
Tears may fall in the process
Victory comes in the after
Mello breezes
Rhythmical sounds in the distance
Take a little time and just reflect
Silence is peace
Feel at ease
Comfort zone
Piano notes dramatically, but soothe in the aftermath.
Slow push
filling me up.
It’s your thumb in my mouth,
those fantasy files in F sharp.
High notes
probing the deepest parts of me
I give in to that ride.
A sensation
your pulse.
The keys are cold, the notes so sad,
To pipe love that never bloomed
A minor key sighs, moans and weeps,
To recall a promise made
The ivory keys hum a dirge ,
A broken song of its sown.
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