pianogonzology

Sunday, October 30, 2016

The Proof . . .

. . . is in the pudding . . . or in this case, the performance . . .

(http://grammarist.com/usage/proof-is-in-the-pudding/)
". . . The idiom is usually stated the proof is in the pudding and means that the end result is the mark of the success or failure of one’s efforts or planning. The phrase may also be used in the past and future tenses: the proof will be/was in the pudding. The original phrase was the proof of the pudding is in the eating and was generally used to say that one had try food in order to know if it was good. The word proof is more synonymous with test than evidence. The pudding is good or bad and the trial of eating will decide it; rather than evidence that would prove it is in fact pudding. . ."

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Saturday, October 29, 2016

Stream . . .

. . . of consciousness . . .

. . . what good to take a city if within, there's no one left alive . . .

. . . she's a sad little woman; I'm a sad little man . . .

. . . we're a deeply flawed creation. . .

. . . I'm a bundle of undesired talent and ability . . .

. . . if you don't care to find some real and actual facts, you place your bet on the two-horse race and that is simply that . . .

. . . you and me; we're not that much different . . .

. . . and like me, you've never been normal . . .

Days May Come
©2016 Raymond M. Jozwiak

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Friday, October 28, 2016

Bravery . . .

brav·er·y
ˈbrāv(ə)rē/Submit
noun
courageous behavior or character.
synonyms: courage, valor, intrepidity, nerve, daring, fearlessness, audacity, boldness, dauntlessness, stoutheartedness, heroism

Security is mostly a superstition. It does not exist in nature,
nor do the children of men as a whole experience it.
Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than outright exposure.
Life is either a daring adventure, or nothing.
To keep our faces toward change and behave like free spirits
in the presence of fate is strength undefeatable.
– Helen Keller

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Thursday, October 27, 2016

How . . .

Waited all these nights for the day to come
Nevermore will I ever suck my thumb
Imaginary pains from my misery
Merely phantoms peopling my fantasy
I believe in everything good
I am weathering life vicissitudes

How is where we go.
Where is how we go.

Severing the strings of the puppeteer
No longer victimized by the petty fears
Swinging round the pole of infinity
Now I am “in the know”

How is where we go, where we go.
Where is how we go, how we go.
How is where we go, where we go.
Where is how we go, how we go.

Cupid hurled his dart; aim was true, hit its mark.
I know that I will never be the same.
Writes across my soul in a secret, sacred code,
Pouring cream so sweet into my tea
Chiming bells ring. See this living take wing.

My identity’s been revealed to me.
I am in accord with my mystery.
How is where we go, where we go.
Where is how we go, how we go.
How is where we go, where we go.
Where is how we go, how we go.Third-Hand Intelligence

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Wednesday, October 26, 2016

Dear . . .

. . . Donald . . .

As much as I hate to admit it, you and I are not that much different. No, I don't mean I am a racist, misogynist or pathological liar with an ego as big as all outdoors. What I mean is that I, too, crave attention. I would absolutely love to have millions of people loving my music, purchasing all my releases and hiring me to play all my very own original music for them, day and night. all the time. So when it comes to craving attention, Don, I truly 'get it.' The real difference between you and me is that, I DON'T PRETEND TO BE QUALIFIED TO BE PRESIDENT.

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Tuesday, October 25, 2016

Runs . . .

She comes out of the night she wrote every book you've read
Fingering her pearl(s) every bead a lover dead
She wears that feathered hat ends up burning on the bed
Her freedom ring's not cheap the beast the till both must be fed

We twins sit on this leather seat this woman this man
One lives the level of her heart the other's gland's in hand
She serves that wicked brew opens minds opens eyes
Holds up the looking glass cracks to cut the shame that binds

What is is what is not is too
This emptiness inside includes
The mystery awaiting moving you
To be released and not removed

And she runs me down in my limousine
And she picks me up in my limousine
And we drive it home give our breath away
Though I'm left alone no way am I the same

The hand extends the fingers eyed they fondle urging every word
You only have what you give up fluxing in the flow
Holding on to what you want will only keep it out of reach
And lock you up inside yourself and block epiphany

Read the beat the rhythm takes and gives
The bodies dance in primal play
Forever steps alive into today
Here each word points but does not say

And she runs me down in my limousine
And she picks me up in my limousine
And we drive it home give our breath away
Though I'm left alone no way am I the same

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Monday, October 24, 2016

Seems . . .

. . . to me

When I woke up today I had all that I want
Everything that I did brought desired results
How could this be? All the rules have been changed
In the pool where I drowned I am swimming again.

But of course I am wrong. How could I understand
When my society tells me how tall I stand?
Then I take it inside and wait for life’s kiss
Which is sure to arrive ‘cause I’m riding my bliss.

What did I do? The world holds me up
Invisible hands grant the nourishing cup
Have I found a way that has always been there?
It seems to me it came out of thin air.

The child waking up brings the old crone to tears
Pushing through my disguise see the tips of my ears
How could this be all the rules have been changed
In the pool where I drowned I am swimming again.

When I blindly reach out to what I cannot see
Grace reappears and it rescues me
I’m not what I feel, I’m not what you think
I’m only what is and what isn’t in sync.

What do you think?
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