I WON'T PLAY

VISIONS OF JOHANNA - DYLAN, SMBOLIST POET

 Ain't it just like the night to play tricks when you're tryin' to be so quiet?

We sit here stranded, though we're all doin' our best to deny it And Louise holds a handful of rain, temptin' you to defy it Lights flicker from the opposite loft In this room the heat pipes just cough The country music station plays soft But there's nothing, really nothing to turn off Just Louise and her lover so entwined And these visions of Johanna that conquer my mind In the empty lot where the ladies play blindman's bluff with the key chain And the all-night girls they whisper of escapades out on the "D" train We can hear the night watchman click his flashlight Ask himself if it's him or them that's insane Louise, she's all right, she's just near She's delicate and seems like the mirror But she just makes it all too concise and too clear That Johanna's not here The ghost of 'lectricity howls in the bones of her face Where these visions of Johanna have now taken my place Now, little boy lost, he takes himself so seriously He brags of his misery, he likes to live dangerously And when bringing her name up He speaks of a farewell kiss to me He's sure got a lotta gall to be so useless and all Muttering small talk at the wall while I'm in the hall How can I explain? It's so hard to get on And these visions of Johanna, they kept me up past the dawn Inside the museums, infinity goes up on trial Voices echo this is what salvation must be like after a while But Mona Lisa musta had the highway blues You can tell by the way she smiles See the primitive wallflower freeze When the jelly-faced women all sneeze Hear the one with the mustache say, "Jeez, I can't find my knees" Oh, jewels and binoculars hang from the head of the mule But these visions of Johanna, they make it all seem so cruel The peddler now speaks to the countess who's pretending to care for him Sayin', "Name me someone that's not a parasite and I'll go out and say a prayer for him" But like Louise always says "Ya can't look at much, can ya man?" As she, herself, prepares for him And Madonna, she still has not showed We see this empty cage now corrode Where her cape of the stage once had flowed The fiddler, he now steps to the road He writes ev'rything's been returned which was owed On the back of the fish truck that loads While my conscience explodes The harmonicas play the skeleton keys and the rain And these visions of Johanna are now all that remain #BobDylan #Folk #SingerSongwriter

Music in this video

THE PARADOX OF LOVE

 I know you loved me today

But we're moving away

Both to some distant place

...

Losing's really no disgrace

We'll find another place

And you'll see my face

As your own

You really are my home

And I am your paradise

And when I look into your eyes

I see your face as mine

You know I loved you today

But now you've gone away

I'll still love you tomorrow

So feel no sorrow

We both must find our home

So now we have to roam

In the shadows

With trains passing

We have our Paradise

We both lived it alive

With gold in our bookshelves

And God in your eyes

And so you live across the sea

5,000 miles from me

It's the paradox of love

That I love you anyway.

W.G. Milne

WITH SO MUCH DEATH AROUND US, WHAT REDEMPTION CAN THERE BE?

Walker Ballantine Admin · · With so much death around us, what redemption can there be? * Alfred Ankomah Jr. Awakening of sleeping consciousness of humanity. · * Richie Israel That death is the fear of an illusion, for even a seed must be stripped of its shell once it is exposed to the Light from the boundless growth of Life within it. · * Harry Haller death is redemption · Walker Ballantine Author Admin If you've seen it up close - yes. · * NOTES from the Facebook Group, "THE GNOSTIC GOSPELS."

A DEEP WELL OF SILENCE

DON'T SEEK EXPLANATIONS, DON'T EXPLAIN. THE REAL TRUTHS WILL REVEAL THEMSELVES. * ONLY THE HAND THAT ERASES CAN WRITE THE TRUE WORD. * A DEEP WELL OF SILENCE, LET THE SILENCE ENTER YOU.

TIM REYNOLDS - CELEBRATION OF LIFE

hE WANTED to take care of you, make sure you were all right............ more than once he sent me $100 for booze -- i SAID: " I'll just stay in the boathouse" he said: "No, you won't" add poem: "WHeN YOU'RE GONE" *

GREYHOUND BUS mpeg 4

"UP UP UP" - JOHNNY ROCK AND THE MAINSTREET BAND

A song I wrote for my mother (God Bless her) many seasons ago.

PHRASES FROM CALYPSO, STORIES WHERE I GREW UP

My father had about 57 sawmills. Then he went to a famous clinic (Mayo + Layhe)... WAS TOLD HE'D BE DEAD IN A YEAR. (Maybe a warm climate would help... and no more 16 hours a day working --- with a nerve disease.) So he knew some people, including the Atorney General of Jamaica. So that's where he went to purchase land and buy a house - some place with sun, where they had all sorts of fruit, and the best excellent rum... He flew to Jamaica Met a mad landowner They got along fine When the shotguns were put down They said, "Hello." I want some land here don't cha know You wanta build a subdivision I'll get you a new vision When the houuse was built He invited people down from the north He took them to floorshows... And at six I had to go I really didn't mind At six - what a great great time With sexual innuendo On stage, together with Calypso I learned a lot more than that... The stories that the singers told; and the rhythms in the hips of the backup singer-dancers ... taught me how to roll. much more to come (C)2021 by wILLIAM MILNE.

STANDING UP

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.Band got... to recording an pop record. These guys were jazz players, so they had no problems with the complex rhythms. With my hard-edged cracking rhythm guitar set on treble, the pop song idea went out the window. Especially with that taste of Jamaica in the rhythms. Anyway, I like the song... unpretentious. The song says what it means and means what it says. At any rate, it's not so serious! (C) 2017 by W.G. Milne All rights reserved. Hope you like it. P. Rowland lead Guitar. KLGE cover art. W.G.Milne singerhouse 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.

JUST LIKE THE DEVIL AND THE DEEP BLUE SEA - Johnny Rock and the Angels

This is A SONG THAT COOKS, but you'll have to intuit the drums, the echo the lead guitar intertwining with the wailing harmonica. Even as is, I love this song. Because it gives me an idea of what can be. (C)1990-2017 by W.G. MilneThis is one of my favs of the songs I wrote - but it needs quite a bit of production. The harmonica has to wail away into the echoing distance. (No echo here...& my voice is crimped as if I sang this song in a closet. JUST LIKE THE DEVIL AND THE DEEP BLUE SEA. This is A SONG THAT COOKS, but you'll have to intuit the drums, the echo the lead guitar intertwining with the wailing harmonica. Even as is, I love this song. Because it gives me an idea of what can be. (C)1990-2017 by W.G. Milne

IN THIS HOTEL --START WITH COMPASSION FOR YOURSELF

BUILDING THE HUT

I BUILT it 1973-1975.. My dad walked up to it with me some years before he died. And he died in 1978. I was going to build it north of Highway 63 and north of the train tracks, then he said: “Why don’t you build it on family land?” I was saying to him, “I’m not interested in business.” That must have annoyed him, for he sold the “family land” to a company about to be formed. So I had to get involved in the company and bought a share. Then I restricted the number of other shareholders involved, so I still had some control. I lived in the hut through two winters, stoking the woodstove – with no electricity or media.

"A STORMY NIGHT IN A PLACE CALLED HOME" and "TAKE YOUR JAM OFF THE TABLE"

nope ---- UP UP UP

OUTPOST IN THE DEEP NORTH

HANK'S TALE Half my family died in a bomb blast LAst week. So I took this job here - only to discover that my boss, the editor of the Paper had died - in what seems a very strange manner. The newspaper has closed it's doors, I'm not sure why... The stories I'm hearing are too bizarre, so I'm renting a window and desk space upstairs at Artie's bar, which I'm told never closes. My window looks out over the Main Lane, which is rarely busy. The inhabitants of this place hit the bar at any hour. I hear shouts, racous laughter from the bar below...and the occasional shotgun blast - the only sounds in this village above the great McKenzie River. All else is silence. And the cawing of ravens and crows... Then more silence.

TAKE YOUR JAM OFF THE TABLE

Take your jam off the table And that foreign marmalade Take it all, if you are able And lay it in a lonesome grave * Lay it with the pictures You always used to save The pictures of your boyfriend And the faces that he made * I LEFT my door wide open Out into the ran I thought I could close it long ago But I've never been the same * Your eyes are young and lovely Yor rivers are shining blue Lately I've heard the stories They've been telling on you * None of them are true (these stories) None of them are true They're not sories of you * Take your eyes off the sunset That screams into the night Take your mind off those cigarettes You smoke with all your might * What the priest in the churches didn't tell you Or the headlines in the smoke Amid rumours of gossip and war From minds that have lost their hope * There's a place that's for you On that further shore You can end your lonesome journey to the truth Right by your kitchen door * Take your jam off the table Keep it set for two I'll put a light in your window I'll wait there for you. * (C)1990 by William Milne

THERE IS ONE TIME BEYOND ALL TIME

There is one time beyond all time      that contains this history;
There is one mind beyond reason
      or rhyme
      that tastes this mystery:

"I am he who is beyond all names,
      who sees beyond time or place;
"I am He who is of the same
The Same attained to me, and I          realized it:
My own Identity, beyond names.
I am He who was before my
       forefathers came to be."

SPECIES CAN DREAM

HOWEVER MUCH you pay us - a dollar or a dime With mountains above us or with a stream, We're the ony species who can stand And laugh and cry at the same time ...And dream. (C)2021 by W.G. Milne