GeMS In thE MEGARouGH: High Octane Jezebels
I am reaching a lull in my own value placed on expression of self, of meaning, of fang and claw…in silently delivered words. And so, I turn to those who add sound to their message, with their message in turn gathering vibrancy, bounce, rhyme and poetry. For it is clear, for my Now, and for many others for their Always; that we hear and feel the emissions of strange hearts and minds more easily when they bounce through eardrums, then find synapses to enliven with new sparks and tides…and beyond…Rather than deliver a silent soliloquy of reportage from the front lines of where I feel the Real War for LIFE is raging, I will turn to the beat merchants and their bards,,,FocuS on ArT, which rings true in my femurs, not designed for mass consumption; a dedication to those with potent, well naturally positioned gumption…and where better to start, than the heartland of my essence...not all beards are hipsters—>>>>
When I not watch..but suffer as much as endure Mr Pip, I ponder that I am seeking inspiration, which can only be found by those not just capable, but singularly prone to plumbing their depths and diving after the bucket sent free fall down the well, finding truth, finding their truth, clawing their bloody nails up the walls of the well, brick by brick, to then roar of their (mis) adventure…which is more often than not far darker than any speak of, in polite or mong company, but its real.
The finest poetry is not created, it is discovered.
A previously unheard live outing from Sage…Adding a huge string instrument and different beats and druid flute, to this>>
It is all about who looks the nicest…which to some degree is natural. We have the peacock eagerness to find the finest plumage. Yet that sparkle, that intoxication of an outline, should lead to far more meaningful unearthing of roots entangled in the soul garden, which make them instantly a part of you…
This takes me back to my teens…haphazardly blossoming in the garden of england….then setting the auto pilot to Manchester, and hitting launch,,,wherever I was, this song felt and remains a feeling of the life flowing around and through me…England had a pulse of intense vibrancy and vitality in the 90s. Social upheaval in every direction. Sparks begging for fuel of any kind. And the flames lasted so long, were so colourful…You could find trouble or adventure every second, both awaited in equal measure…Attracted to the rare noise of a Society, of a Way of Life, burnt and forgotten and solely new sounds emerging from the rubble. Wild, rabid sounds. A society undone at the seems, and everybody going berserk…
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