Thursday, December 31, 2020
THE MEANING OF LIFE
Because I mentioned I passed thru the ENLIGHTENMENT experience... people ask me questions...
There are angels and powers all around us.. and if you do your sitting,you'll meet mind masters from around the globe.
All you have to do is prepare a space within you - a space where Grace may enter - and learn to listen in depth.
Wonders with come once your heart-mind opens.
Wednesday, December 30, 2020
Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH
Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood
BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH
The child is father of the man;
And I could wish my days to be
Bound each to each by natural piety.
(Wordsworth, "My Heart Leaps Up")
There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream,
The earth, and every common sight,
To me did seem
Apparelled in celestial light,
The glory and the freshness of a dream.
It is not now as it hath been of yore;—
Turn wheresoe'er I may,
By night or day.
The things which I have seen I now can see no more.
The Rainbow comes and goes,
And lovely is the Rose,
The Moon doth with delight
Look round her when the heavens are bare,
Waters on a starry night
Are beautiful and fair;
The sunshine is a glorious birth;
But yet I know, where'er I go,
That there hath past away a glory from the earth.
Now, while the birds thus sing a joyous song,
And while the young lambs bound
As to the tabor's sound,
To me alone there came a thought of grief:
A timely utterance gave that thought relief,
And I again am strong:
The cataracts blow their trumpets from the steep;
No more shall grief of mine the season wrong;
I hear the Echoes through the mountains throng,
The Winds come to me from the fields of sleep,
And all the earth is gay;
Land and sea
Give themselves up to jollity,
And with the heart of May
Doth every Beast keep holiday;—
Thou Child of Joy,
Shout round me, let me hear thy shouts, thou happy Shepherd-boy.
Ye blessèd creatures, I have heard the call
Ye to each other make; I see
The heavens laugh with you in your jubilee;
My heart is at your festival,
My head hath its coronal,
The fulness of your bliss, I feel—I feel it all.
Oh evil day! if I were sullen
While Earth herself is adorning,
This sweet May-morning,
And the Children are culling
On every side,
In a thousand valleys far and wide,
Fresh flowers; while the sun shines warm,
And the Babe leaps up on his Mother's arm:—
I hear, I hear, with joy I hear!
—But there's a Tree, of many, one,
A single field which I have looked upon,
Both of them speak of something that is gone;
The Pansy at my feet
Doth the same tale repeat:
Whither is fled the visionary gleam?
Where is it now, the glory and the dream?
Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood
BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH
And cometh from afar:
Not in entire forgetfulness,
And not in utter nakedness,
But trailing clouds of glory do we come
From God, who is our home:
Heaven lies about us in our infancy!
Shades of the prison-house begin to close
Upon the growing Boy,
But he beholds the light, and whence it flows,
He sees it in his joy;
The Youth, who daily farther from the east
Must travel, still is Nature's Priest,
And by the vision splendid
Is on his way attended;
At length the Man perceives it die away,
And fade into the light of common day.
Earth fills her lap with pleasures of her own;
Yearnings she hath in her own natural kind,
And, even with something of a Mother's mind,
And no unworthy aim,
The homely Nurse doth all she can
To make her Foster-child, her Inmate Man,
Forget the glories he hath known,
And that imperial palace whence he came.
Behold the Child among his new-born blisses,
A six years' Darling of a pigmy size!
See, where 'mid work of his own hand he lies,
Fretted by sallies of his mother's kisses,
With light upon him from his father's eyes!
See, at his feet, some little plan or chart,
Some fragment from his dream of human life,
Shaped by himself with newly-learn{e}d art
A wedding or a festival,
A mourning or a funeral;
And this hath now his heart,
And unto this he frames his song:
Then will he fit his tongue
To dialogues of business, love, or strife;
But it will not be long
Ere this be thrown aside,
And with new joy and pride
The little Actor cons another part;
Filling from time to time his "humorous stage"
With all the Persons, down to palsied Age,
That Life brings with her in her equipage;
As if his whole vocation
Were endless imitation.
Thou, whose exterior semblance doth belie
Thy Soul's immensity;
Thou best Philosopher, who yet dost keep
Thy heritage, thou Eye among the blind,
That, deaf and silent, read'st the eternal deep,
Haunted for ever by the eternal mind,—
Mighty Prophet! Seer blest!
On whom those truths do rest,
Which we are toiling all our lives to find,
In darkness lost, the darkness of the grave;
Thou, over whom thy Immortality
Broods like the Day, a Master o'er a Slave,
A Presence which is not to be put by;
Thou little Child, yet glorious in the might
Of heaven-born freedom on thy being's height,
Why with such earnest pains dost thou provoke
The years to bring the inevitable yoke,
Thus blindly with thy blessedness at strife?
Full soon thy Soul shall have her earthly freight,
And custom lie upon thee with a weight,
Heavy as frost, and deep almost as life!
O joy! that in our embers
Is something that doth live,
That Nature yet remembers
What was so fugitive!
The thought of our past years in me doth breed
Perpetual benediction: not indeed
For that which is most worthy to be blest;
Delight and liberty, the simple creed
Of Childhood, whether busy or at rest,
With new-fledged hope still fluttering in his breast:—
Not for these I raise
The song of thanks and praise
But for those obstinate questionings
Of sense and outward things,
Fallings from us, vanishings;
Blank misgivings of a Creature
Moving about in worlds not realised,
High instincts before which our mortal Nature
Did tremble like a guilty thing surprised:
But for those first affections,
Those shadowy recollections,
Which, be they what they may
Are yet the fountain-light of all our day,
Are yet a master-light of all our seeing;
Uphold us, cherish, and have power to make
Our noisy years seem moments in the being
Of the eternal Silence: truths that wake,
To perish never;
Which neither listlessness, nor mad endeavour,
Nor Man nor Boy,
Nor all that is at enmity with joy,
Can utterly abolish or destroy!
Hence in a season of calm weather
Though inland far we be,
Our Souls have sight of that immortal sea
Which brought us hither,
Can in a moment travel thither,
And see the Children sport upon the shore,
And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore.
Then sing, ye Birds, sing, sing a joyous song!
And let the young Lambs bound
As to the tabor's sound!
We in thought will join your throng,
Ye that pipe and ye that play,
Ye that through your hearts to-day
Feel the gladness of the May!
What though the radiance which was once so bright
Be now for ever taken from my sight,
Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;
We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind;
In the primal sympathy
Which having been must ever be;
In the soothing thoughts that spring
Out of human suffering;
In the faith that looks through death,
In years that bring the philosophic mind.
And O, ye Fountains, Meadows, Hills, and Groves,
Forebode not any severing of our loves!
Yet in my heart of hearts I feel your might;
I only have relinquished one delight
To live beneath your more habitual sway.
I love the Brooks which down their channels fret,
Even more than when I tripped lightly as they;
The innocent brightness of a new-born Day
Is lovely yet;
The Clouds that gather round the setting sun
Do take a sober colouring from an eye
That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality;
Another race hath been, and other palms are won.
Thanks to the human heart by which we live,
Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears,
To me the meanest flower that blows can give
Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.
Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood
BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH
Saturday, December 5, 2020
Monday, November 30, 2020
In this world though everything must change, "YOU KNOW THAT ONLY LOVE MAY STAY THE SAME." I wrote this on a ship going around the world. I did two concerts on the ship, this paid for half my fare. I fell in love with the ship's nurse. She was leaving the ship in the bay of Naples - to go back to Denmark. This song's about our last night together.
She was asleep in the bed of my cabin ( cabin U2). I watched her dreaming as I sat at my desk, her face coloured in the light of a coloured lantern hanging from above. I could feel the movement of the ship as she slept.
"And they say pain will defeat us
But I I just can't see it
I'm too happy to believe it...
IN this world though everything must change,
YOU KNOW THAT ONLY LOVE MAY STAY THE SAME."
(C)1980-2017 by W.G. Milne and John Rock Corporation. All rights reserved.
Hope you like this song as much as I do!
Tuesday, November 24, 2020
Sunday, November 22, 2020
THE BELLY OF THE BEAST AND HEAVEN'S DOOR - A DISCUSSION OF MANIC DEPRESSIVE ILLNESS------------ HOW TO PREDICT YOUR DANGEROUS TIMES
THE BELLY OF THE BEAST AND HEAVEN'S DOOR - A DISCUSSION OF MANIC DEPRESSIVE ILLNESS------------ HOW TO PREDICT YOUR DANGEROUS TIMES
The following article may seem not to apply to tennis.
But if something like one out of ten people are affected
by this illness, then it becomes significant, RE: "Managing
the Mental Part of the Game" - What this Blog is all about.
THE BELLY OF THE BEAST AND HEAVEN'S DOOR - A DISCUSSION OF MANIC-DEPRESSIVE ILLNESS;----------HOW TO PREDICT YOUR DANGEROUS TIMES
One out of between ten to twenty players will be affected.
I've been in the belly of
the beast for three weeks now, underwater, in the
tunnel. And the worst part of it - I didn't know it.
I thought the Doom that I was feeling
was permanent: feeling doom was simply reality, just the way it things are. Learn to live with it.
Right! That is horrible advice!
I feel just fine now. The cycle is moving
along in its inexorable way and I don't worry about
a thing. I can organize twelve things at once
that's what I think in the manic part of my life.
And the problem is, at that particular time, I
really can do it!
So I get twelve projects started,
and people agreeing to work with me. I
can make million dollar deals. I once
put a bid in for a gravel pit.
I put in a call to the owner at
7:30 A.M. and he was up. I asked
him how much he wanted for his pit
trucks, conveyers and loaders. He said
7 million.
We phoned each other back
and forth. By breakfast I had him down
to 4 million.I'm good at that kind of
bargaining.
Problem was I had about
three dollars in the bank.
There was the fact that
I didn't really want or need a gravel pit
to begin with. You might say, "How crazy
can you get? Buying something
you don't even want."
Well I can get a lot crazier
than this. Once I get an IDEA and
I'm manic, well, I'll follow the idea
through rapidly
It's all this manic energy running
through me. You can make deals that
you think you can manage. And maybe
you would be able to manage a major
enterprise, if you stayed in that manic
state.
Problem is, next comes depression.
And when you are in deep clinical depression,
all your ability to follow through is gone
and all urges to follow through are extinguished.
You are immobilized. And you can be in
serious trouble.
In deep and ongoing depression,
the only creative urge you might have,
is the urge to end the utter misery
of your worthless life...(you are saying
this to yourself. The negative script
is a component of depression - and the voice(s)
in your head telling yourself how stupid and useless
you are, how lazy... And on top of these things,
what a prick you are!
This continuing script, in my view,
has to be attacked.
One quarter to one third of manic
depressives kill themselves. So obviously
it's a dangerous disease.
I hadn't been taking my diagnosis
seriously. I just thought I was way, way out
there. I started plotting out my cycle for
the depressed period, way before I knew
about any diagnosis, I knew I was subject
to a disturbing cycle.
There's a short period of time
during your depression, I call it "the depressive
peak." That's when you have to really
watch yourself. You can really go over the
top, during the peak ( which might be
3 days or thee hours or three weeks).
You have to counter the negative self-talk
with positive images, which you have prepared
repeatedly.
There are ways to train yourself
to picture one scene of a place you love,
or a person you love with whom you feel
grounded, or tender moments with a dog or cat.
You find these moments of joy within yourself
(And sometimes it takes a week to think up
even one such image. Don't worry. Just
don't stop. You need the positive image to
counteract the ravening beast who is calling
you names, deep in your own mind.
Press one index finger on one hand
against the index finger of the other hand.
This becomes a trigger for you.
Every time you press the two
fingers together, you imagine your
beautiful scene.
When you have a horrible
suicidal thought, you trigger the scene
to offset the doom and gloom of
the thought , and it helps...truly
it does help. But it takes a while
and it takes practice.
You have to practice. The
non-medicinal cure takes work.
It works better if you can borrow
a hypnotist to help you with your "imagining
sessions" and to help you embed your image
into your mind so you can call up the scenes
of joy and happiness quickly, when you are
in desperate straits. When you are under
attack...
We all get in desperate straits. I used
to hit the depressive peak every thirty-four
days. I'd map the times of my cycle. I had to,
to protect my life, it was a lot better when I knew
the timing of each phase my cycle time map.
I used to call it my 'psyche map'. At
least when you are attacked,
when this dark curtain is pulled across
your heart and mind, you know when it's
coming. You have a calendar of days.
You have a map of your own psyche. By
writing down notes on each stage of your
cycle, as you pass through each cycle,
you can nail the time frames down. It will take
about three times through, to get a somewhat
accurate cycle time map.
You know when your depressive peak is coming
And more important you know when it's leaving, and
you know it IS GOING TO LEAVE.
You know this dark beast is
leaving. And you have a projection
as to how soon it will leave. So you
know this terrible darkness will stay for just
so long.
This way you are dealing with
a finite situation. You are no longer facing
infinite misery. The feeling of Doom
will NOT stay with you for the rest of your life.
Just this one little step
can make a huge improvement
in your life. You are going from
passive to active. And that
always feels good and helps relieve
the feeling of "helpless" and "hopeless"
Of course , there are
exceptions! I've just come out
of a 2 or 3 month depression
and I didn't even know I was depressed!
Sometimes it comes up on you from
behind...
And creeps into your being
slowly, oh so slowly that you don't
feel its presence or it's growing
power over you, until you're in a situation
that seems impossible to change.
(This is starting to sound like a sci-fi
movie)
. The weird stuff happens. There's
no denying this fact. But I'd say the
'psyche cycle',the timing of your cycle,
which enables you to project your dangerous
time... I'd say this works and will help you
8/10ths of the time.
Good luck and happy hunting.
Respectfully submitted, R.R.R.
(C)2014 by William G. Milne
Posted by WILLIAM MILNE at 3:27 PM
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Thursday, November 19, 2020
On The Way: The Daily Zen Journal
Nov 15 2020
The Sermon of No Words
Takashina Rōsen (1876-1968)
There is an ancient saying: “Better an inch of practice than a foot of preaching.” It refers to the sermon preached by the body itself, through action and without speaking.
The sermon of words and phrases is the finger pointing to the moon, the fist knocking at the door. The object is to see the moon not the finger, to get the door open and not the knocking itself; so far as these things do achieve their objects they are fine. The object of the Buddha's life of preaching was not to turn words and phrases. The Diamond Sutra compares his sermons to a raft, which is only an instrument for reaching the far shore. The sermon which is an instrument can be discarded after a time, but the real preaching---which is not discarded—is the preaching by the body itself.
As to what that preaching may be, the truth of it is very profound, but in simple language it means that others receive right inspiration from that person. It is said that when a Bodhisattva has continued his or her spiritual practice for three kalpa-ages s/he is qualified to be a Buddha. After a hundred ages, their appearance becomes majestic.
This does not mean anything outwardly magnificent, but it means that in helping others the manner in which the things are done is of first importance, and through the force of wisdom and compassion there manifests in them a peculiar dignity and tenderness.
By contemplating the form of Bodhisattvas like Kannon and Jizo, one's heart becomes somehow softened, but along with that there is something awe-inspiring which cannot be easily expressed. When a person feels it within all the time, it is naturally reflected in his or her outward appearance, and love and respect are attracted to them from others.
What gives us inspiration is the sermon of action of the Bodhisattvas. They have the power to do it without uttering a word. But it is not to be confined to Buddhas and Bodhisattvas. For religious and other teachers, for all who stand in authority whether over many, as head of a household with many dependents, or as employer of a single man or woman, it is all-important.
A sermon is not something said by the Buddha long ago, or prated nowadays from a pulpit. The sermon of words is like a sort of advertising puff; but the real sermon is when the employer acts as a right employer, the worker as a right worker, and so on with the merchant and official.
All things, dogs and cats, trees and grass, things animate and inanimate, have also to express their right path, and, so far as they keep to it without faltering, it is the sermon of action.
A poem of Sontoku expresses it:
“Without voice or incense, heaven and earth are ever repeating the unwritten scripture.”
The man called Reiun was realised when he saw the peach blossoms; Kyogen when he heard a stone strike against bamboo. There are instances of people who having matured their spiritual training were then enlightened on seeing the flying petals and falling leaves of autumn.
The Buddha himself had great realization on seeing the brilliance of the morning star. In the same way the mountains and rivers and sun and moon and stars, every morning and night, are preaching the sermon to bring us to realization.
We should understand that it is never effective merely to rebuke others harshly. Let each of us keep to our own role and play it properly; then a beauty will manifest spontaneously; high and low will be affected, and their conduct will change to harmony and virtue.
Since the self is a creation of the mind and good and bad too are from the mind or, rather, correspond to the spiritual beauty or ugliness of the person, the first thing is to train the mind. Training produces a charm and power which appears externally and affects others. There are various ways and means in spiritual training, but the first thing is faith.
One's faith may be true or false, right or mistaken, shallow or deep, high or low and so on. When this reverent faith bubbles up in us, our everyday limited nature of itself begins to shine with the light of compassion, and the beauty and power of the true heart break forth, and we move in harmony with the Buddha-light. When this happens the virtues of the Buddha-body are ever in our breast, and from head to foot our action is prompted by the Buddha. Such is the life of faith, and in it every incident preaches the sermon of action.
Those who have not light in their hearts are always in darkness, a darkness in which a hundred demons come and go. Under their sway, life goes from darkness to darkness, ordinances of heaven are broken, and there is much suffering.
Faith is all important to people, and it is given to us by religion. There are different religions also, but in Japan Buddhism has come down in an unbroken stream for well over a thousand years and has deeply penetrated the life of the people. If we live with faith in the Way and in the Bodhisattva spirit preach the sermon of action, we ... demonstrate the sermon of no words to the people of the world, and this is the supreme task today.
Takashina Rōsen (1876-1968)
Source:
A Second Zen Reader
By: Trevor P Leggett 2020
Saturday, November 14, 2020
Wednesday, November 4, 2020
Saturday, October 24, 2020
Try A Little Tenderness - Otis Redding - with lyrics
Try A Little Tenderness - Otis Redding - with lyrics
Wednesday, October 21, 2020
Monday, October 19, 2020
O LET SILENCE COMPEL US TO SEE MYSTERY
O LET SILENCE COMPEL US
TO SEE MYSTERY
WE ARE HERE NOW
BOTH YOU AND ME,
DO YOU NOT THINK
"WHAT IS THIS GOING?
Where's this wind blowing
To a heartland of bliss?"
Beginning and ending
Who makes the rules?
Without some real insight
We are the fools!
From wonder to wonder
Each tender kiss
O teach us to see straight
It's too good to miss!
You who now doubt
The very rock where you step
You were born here, Agnostic,
Tell me,
What's this?
(C)2019 by W.G. Milne
Saturday, October 10, 2020
MOONSHINE SKETCHES OF A PICKLED TOWN
MOONSHINE SKETCHES OF A PICKLED TOWN
I don't know whether you know WAIT-A-BIT!,
if not it is of no consequence. For if you know
the North of Canada at all, you probably know a dozen
towns just like it.
There it lies in the Moonlight, sloping up from the Big River,
the Mackenzie River sweeping along its range of mountains
rolling down along its miles of woodlands, the wide river
runs rolling on towards the sea. And silence, the wide
wild silence of the Arctic, tempered by the caw of ravens,
sweetened with the howl of wolves, and seasoned through
all seasons, by endless light and interminable darkness.
There it lies in the Moonlight, sloping up from the
wild river at the foot of the hillside on which the
town is built.
There is a wharf beside the river, and a moveable
section of floating wharf which forms a “T”
into the river.
There are three boats upturned beside the
wharf. The boats go nowhere. Men used to
go fishing in them, but the freshwater sharks
that come down from the ocean inhibit
the fish from coming to this corner
of the river.
The bears still catch fish north of here,
ion the shallows where the river runs
very wide. And indeed the 100 pound weasels,
known as wolverines; they have been
seen eating the occasional carcass of a shark.
There's a pair of binoculars at Artie's Bar...
And we watch the weasels cavort over the shark
carcass down the hill on the mudflats by the
river.
The boats go nowhere. The distances are
too great, the immensity is so vast...
So the remaining inhabitants of Wait-A-Bit!,
the ones who have survived ( and I am
lucky to say that I am one) we sit here,
sons and daughters of Intemperance,
and we observe the immensity...
The inhalation of solvents is
discouraged, but the use of alcohol
has been approved of once again,
as being indeed necessary to
contemplate the Eye of the Universe
which is looking back at us.
(c) 2013 by William G. Milne
All rights reserved.
Posted 7th December 2013 by WILLIAM MILNE
Tuesday, September 15, 2020
HYMN TO APHRODITIE
The finest woman you'll never see
Is singing close and distantly
In a cavern whispering
By a fountain in the forest eaves
Will you always stand alone
by the waters and the moon?
Will you be returning soon,
Will you lead your poet home?
Love can make a man go mad
In poets such madness is terminal:
She stares full face into my eyes
Says, "This is your birth or your funeral."
Her smile's a holy sight,
A reward beyond imagining;
We rise to love then fall to die
And I
I write verses for you others sing.
(C)2018-2020 by W.G. Milne
ROSEMARY with band..JOHNNY ROCK returning from JAMAICA
This take of Rosemary was done with a full band. Barry played like an angel in this song. Rob Joanisse's drumming is fab. It's a more stirring version that the duet version which is unemotional.There are a few tempo shifts which are disturbing, but not too bad. Let's see how it sounds...(It's done at the same session as 'Exhausted Man Blues") So the band is pretty hot, I love this song but it has to be sung with intensity or it's no good. This one's pretty intense.
(C) 1980-2017 by W.G. Milne and JOHN ROCK CORPORATION, all rights reserved
Wednesday, September 9, 2020
Monday, September 7, 2020
Sunday, September 6, 2020
BLUES SONG
I went to see my sister
She had nothing to help with me
She asked me: "What s the matter with
I said nothing at all, my lady
Cept I am and I been blowing down low
So she took me to a doctor
He said: "He strange but he can
open his eyes"
If you want more of his music...
stare at his face
And stroke his thighs.....
So I took him to Matilda...
She slipped a wire into his tool
Yeah, she took him to Matilda
Slipped a hot wire into his tool
H woke up real sudden
Said: "These gals gottas go
To my special girl thief school
And when I teach them to bend over
I'm gonna show them the big
boss's
Golden ruler rule.
Sunday, August 23, 2020
Sunday, August 16, 2020
MOST ANCIENT GOSPEL FOUND ANEW, The Second Coming of Christ: THE WAR ON THE FLESH... remnant of an erroneous et...
MOST ANCIENT GOSPEL FOUND ANEW, The Second Coming of Christ: THE WAR ON THE FLESH... remnant of an erroneous et...: THE WAR ON DRUGS, THE PURITAN ETHIC AND THE HIGHEST PER CAPITA JAIL RATE ON THE PLANET I`ve re-written this article...
Friday, August 14, 2020
Sunday, August 9, 2020
Saturday, August 8, 2020
Thursday, July 30, 2020
Monday, July 27, 2020
COLD,COLD,COLD II
I spent a year living in the Caledon Hills in this big, funky house in the middle of a 33 acre field... long dirt driveway, etc. etc. I was working in Bill Davis's law firm in Brampton... Tho once he was Premier he had to disassociate himself from the firm... Did a lot of real estate in those days, but I digress. I spent many long hours by myself in this amazing place with a 2 story stone wall, huge hearth.... Hell, if you swallowed some hallucinogen and started reading Shakespeare in the place beside this tall stone structure --- you thought you were THERE in the play... and you got to know the characters (people) who were like neighbours... ...But I digress.
I wrote some of my best songs there in that atmosphere of drama, solitude, and loneliness. I'd go and sit on a stump in the middle of the field and start to write. I wrote COLD, COLD, COLD there, and also: "HYMN TO PAN DIONYSUS" I also wrote, "NO REST FOR THE INNOCENT", a song I'm still trying to find. None of these songs are short songs. But I make no apologies for this. They are all exceptional songs. I say this in all modesty...Ha! Ha!
At any rate, here's one version of COLD, COLD, COLD, which I like, especially with Peter Rowland's guitar solo... tho I think the song otta really be produced in 2/4. More on this later.
(C)1990-2017 by W.G. Milne and John Rock Corporation. All rights reserved.
This song is not just me dicking around with my own songs --- this song is about the North and about the nature of Canada.
It's easy to see why I say this... when you see the landscape, visit the small towns, and hear the words.
The song is bigger than I am, and was always meant to be.
(C) 1990-2017 by W.G. Milne and John Rock corporation. All rights reserved.
*
GET ME A ROCKING CHAIR by W.G. Milne - Johnny Rock and the Angels
Terry Lucenti on lead guitar.
The band is cooking tonight.
DELIGHT
The delight I feel upon discovering that the place I am in
is better than the place I had
dreamed of.
Monday, July 13, 2020
ANNA IS
Anna is
the hot summer wind
burgeoning
before the fall
Anna
a moist day
sunset through the Euchalyptus
broadleafed and vibrant
green
the wind tossing her
like an unmade bed
Anna is the nightwind
up from the lake
black as the night
she is the summer evening
humid and hot
before the storm...
lightning in her groin
Anna is... the
hot buttery sun
blowing through windows
raining gold
on our sheets
Anna is.
(C) 1970 by W.G. Milne
Friday, July 10, 2020
ALLISON MOORER Carrickfergus
As I see it, this song is about a person in Ireland languishing for his/her love across the sea in Scotland.
"Only for nights in Ballygrand" this I guess is the place where they had their love trysts.
All his old friends (happy times) are dead and gone.
"Soft is the grass & my bed is free." A place to lie down and die.
In Killkenny you can find black headstones... which he'll need soon. "I am sick now and my days are numbered.
"Soft is the grass - my bed is free."
A very moving song
also sung by Loudon Wainwright III
Wednesday, June 24, 2020
Saturday, June 13, 2020
THE WINDS OF CHANGE, THE WIND REMAINS 2
This song was written on the road - taking a trip by car down the east coast of the United States... from Toronto south, sleeping by the ocean in a station wagon I had. Down through Carolina, Georgia and into Florida, across Florida to the gulf. Panama city was seen as Paradise by a street character in one of my stories...But he'd never been there. So I thought I'd better see the one in Florida. I'd been to the Panama City in Panama... Sleeping on the gulf coast I saw lightning crossing the ocean towards us... and a heron standing very still in the water by the shore. We went as far as New Orleans and stayed there a few weeks during Mardi Gras. The song is called: THE WINDS OF CHANGE, THE WIND REMAINS(C)1980-2017 by W.G. Milne. Once again the tape speeding up has made my voice too high. But I love some of the lyrics in this one, so despite imperfections, here's the song anyway. Hope you may enjoy.
My sweet sister Deborah died last week. The lines
- "I remember that rag doll you used to hold,
You used to hold it - to your breast"
These are dedicated to her.
STARLIGHT PIERCES THROUGH THE MIND
Your starlight pierces through the mind
Celestial, chaste like the wood,
the poor wood I found second hand
Where now I read infinity;
Oh, completion is the goal,
the present goal:
We have this day
this moment only;
You ask how I know the
words
Of symphonies I've never
heard
The secret is, "Listen,
Don't try to hear,"
I greet you all
I greet you here
In this place of
destiny
Praise to the One
above us all
The source and end of mystery;
O now I do; I feel you
here
As I write your history.
Wednesday, May 27, 2020
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