Yes, I love clowns. And love this band.
Great video, amazing colors!
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Monday, November 17, 2008
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Friday, August 15, 2008
Step Up - This Picture
This Picture's first album "Violent Impression" (1991) is one of my very favorite records. Too bad they dissapeared!
Monday, August 11, 2008
Thursday, August 7, 2008
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
On Imagination- Phillis Wheatley
Thy various works, imperial queen, we see,
How bright their forms! how deck'd with pomp by thee!
Thy wond'rous acts in beauteous order stand,
And all attest how potent is thine hand.
From Helicon's refulgent heights attend,
Ye sacred choir, and my attempts befriend:
To tell her glories with a faithful tongue,
Ye blooming graces, triumph in my song.
Now here, now there, the roving Fancy flies,
Till some lov'd object strikes her wand'ring eyes,
Whose silken fetters all the senses bind,
And soft captivity involves the mind.
Imagination! who can sing thy force?
Or who describe the swiftness of thy course?
Soaring through air to find the bright abode,
Th' empyreal palace of the thund'ring God,
We on thy pinions can surpass the wind,
And leave the rolling universe behind:
>From star to star the mental optics rove,
Measure the skies, and range the realms above.
There in one view we grasp the mighty whole,
Or with new worlds amaze th' unbounded soul.
Though Winter frowns to Fancy's raptur'd eyes
The fields may flourish, and gay scenes arise;
The frozen deeps may break their iron bands,
And bid their waters murmur o'er the sands.
Fair Flora may resume her fragrant reign,
And with her flow'ry riches deck the plain;
Sylvanus may diffuse his honours round,
And all the forest may with leaves be crown'd:
Show'rs may descend, and dews their gems disclose,
And nectar sparkle on the blooming rose.
Such is thy pow'r, nor are thine orders vain,
O thou the leader of the mental train:
In full perfection all thy works are wrought,
And thine the sceptre o'er the realms of thought.
Before thy throne the subject-passions bow,
Of subject-passions sov'reign ruler thou;
At thy command joy rushes on the heart,
And through the glowing veins the spirits dart.
Fancy might now her silken pinions try
To rise from earth, and sweep th' expanse on high:
>From Tithon's bed now might Aurora rise,
Her cheeks all glowing with celestial dies,
While a pure stream of light o'erflows the skies.
The monarch of the day I might behold,
And all the mountains tipt with radiant gold,
But I reluctant leave the pleasing views,
Which Fancy dresses to delight the Muse;
Winter austere forbids me to aspire,
And northern tempests damp the rising fire;
They chill the tides of Fancy's flowing sea,
Cease then, my song, cease the unequal lay.
Phillis Wheatley
Hammer Rails (Haiku #2 俳句)
Hammer Rails
Instances of claws:
Phalanges scratching keybeds,
Poised upon lifting hips.
俳句
By Denise G. Monteiro
Monday, August 4, 2008
Sunday, August 3, 2008
"Pomar" - (Haiku #1 俳句)
POMAR
Pelvic bones aligned
To tree roots that grow to fruit
And tint cyclic grounds.
俳句
By Denise G. Monteiro
Pelvic bones aligned
To tree roots that grow to fruit
And tint cyclic grounds.
俳句
By Denise G. Monteiro
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Friday, June 13, 2008
Friday, May 9, 2008
Saturday, May 3, 2008
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Saturday, April 26, 2008
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Friday, April 11, 2008
I Think Continually Of Those Who Were Truly Great
by Stephen Spender
I think continually of those who were truly great.
Who, from the womb, remembered the soul's history
Through corridors of light where the hours are suns
Endless and singing. Whose lovely ambition
Was that their lips, still touched with fire,
Should tell of the Spirit clothed from head to foot in song.
And who hoarded from the Spring branches
The desires falling across their bodies like blossoms.
What is precious is never to forget
The essential delight of the blood drawn from ageless springs
Breaking through rocks in worlds before our earth.
Never to deny its pleasure in the morning simple light
Nor its grave evening demand for love.
Never to allow gradually the traffic to smother
With noise and fog the flowering of the spirit.
Near the snow, near the sun, in the highest fields
See how these names are fŠted by the waving grass
And by the streamers of white cloud
And whispers of wind in the listening sky.
The names of those who in their lives fought for life
Who wore at their hearts the fire's center.
Born of the sun they traveled a short while towards the sun,
And left the vivid air signed with their honor.
I think continually of those who were truly great.
Who, from the womb, remembered the soul's history
Through corridors of light where the hours are suns
Endless and singing. Whose lovely ambition
Was that their lips, still touched with fire,
Should tell of the Spirit clothed from head to foot in song.
And who hoarded from the Spring branches
The desires falling across their bodies like blossoms.
What is precious is never to forget
The essential delight of the blood drawn from ageless springs
Breaking through rocks in worlds before our earth.
Never to deny its pleasure in the morning simple light
Nor its grave evening demand for love.
Never to allow gradually the traffic to smother
With noise and fog the flowering of the spirit.
Near the snow, near the sun, in the highest fields
See how these names are fŠted by the waving grass
And by the streamers of white cloud
And whispers of wind in the listening sky.
The names of those who in their lives fought for life
Who wore at their hearts the fire's center.
Born of the sun they traveled a short while towards the sun,
And left the vivid air signed with their honor.
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
JAMES - Hey Ma
Bubbles
Take an axe to your past
To your family tree
Carve a face from the wood
An effigy
Make wings from the leaves
Hide from the bark
Kindling
for the hair
Rose for his heart
Someone to draw you right
Someone to catch the light
Draw the blue from the skies
into his eyes
Carve the lines on his face
A map of the race
Juice from the root of a beet for his skin
Set the tides
of the blood
with the pulse of the drum
Someone to draw you right
Someone to catch the light
I’m alive
I’m alive
Wash the boy in the stream
So tenderly
Press his lips to your lips
Give him your breath
He awakes with the weight
of the vision he holds
Sees the rent in time
through which he must fold
Someone to draw you right
Someone to catch the light
I’m alive
I’m alive…
Stir the heart with a drum
Kiss smoke in his mouth
Show him signs of a life
That’s a whole lot better
And he calls down the rain
Tornadoes & hurricanes
There’s a world in his veins
That’s a whole lot better
I’m alive
I’m alive…
Fingers raised to the sky
A snake for a spine
He’s drunk on a life
That’s a whole lot better
Teach him songs of the bees
Double helix and honey comb
Play him wind through the leaves
That’s a whole lot better
Alive, I’m alive….
http://www.wearejames.com
Take an axe to your past
To your family tree
Carve a face from the wood
An effigy
Make wings from the leaves
Hide from the bark
Kindling
for the hair
Rose for his heart
Someone to draw you right
Someone to catch the light
Draw the blue from the skies
into his eyes
Carve the lines on his face
A map of the race
Juice from the root of a beet for his skin
Set the tides
of the blood
with the pulse of the drum
Someone to draw you right
Someone to catch the light
I’m alive
I’m alive
Wash the boy in the stream
So tenderly
Press his lips to your lips
Give him your breath
He awakes with the weight
of the vision he holds
Sees the rent in time
through which he must fold
Someone to draw you right
Someone to catch the light
I’m alive
I’m alive…
Stir the heart with a drum
Kiss smoke in his mouth
Show him signs of a life
That’s a whole lot better
And he calls down the rain
Tornadoes & hurricanes
There’s a world in his veins
That’s a whole lot better
I’m alive
I’m alive…
Fingers raised to the sky
A snake for a spine
He’s drunk on a life
That’s a whole lot better
Teach him songs of the bees
Double helix and honey comb
Play him wind through the leaves
That’s a whole lot better
Alive, I’m alive….
http://www.wearejames.com
Saturday, March 22, 2008
Friday, March 21, 2008
Friday, March 14, 2008
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Monday, March 10, 2008
Friday, March 7, 2008
Playing The Angel 2005
"My joy, the air that I breath, my joy. You move me." "My Joy" - Depeche Mode
Peter Beard
"If Michelangelo had a (film) camera or a Nikon he woulnd't be chipping rocks." Peter Beard
www.peterbeard.com
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