Springtime is the land awakening. The March winds are the morning yawn.

Lewis Gizzard

Fantasia on a Theme by Thomas Tallis

Why fum'th in fight the Gentiles spite, in fury raging stout?

Why tak'th in hand the people fond, vain things to bring about?
The Kings arise, the Lords devise, in counsels met thereto,
against the Lord with false accord, against His Christ they go.

Psalm 2:1-2

A string orchestra. That it is. Composed by the brilliant Brit, Ralph Vaughan Williams, the English fantasy hymnal has a thrice repeated theme that builds throughout the 16 minute piece. The viola solo adds a poignancy to the climax of the work. Made to resemble the fluidity and unity of an organ, the score was originally constructed by Thomas Tallis for the Archbishop of Canterbury for the Psalter of 1567.

Enjoy!

Breakfast

Hold the milk, put back the sugar
They are powerless to console
We've gathered here to sprinkle ashes
From our late friend's cereal bowl.
Breakfast Clubbers, say the motto
That he taught us to repeat:
"You will lose it in your gym class
If you wait 'til noon to eat."

Back when the Chess Club said our eggs were soft
Every Monday he'd say grace and hold our juice aloft
Oh, none of us knew his checkout time would come so soon
But before his brain stopped waving, he composed this tune:

WHEN THE TOAST IS BURNED
AND ALL THE MILK HAS TURNED
AND CAPTAIN CRUNCH IS WAVING FAREWELL
WHEN THE BIG ONE FINDS YOU
MAY THIS SONG REMIND YOU
THAT THEY DON'T SERVE BREAKFAST IN HELL

Breakfast clubbers, drop the hankies.
Though to some our friend was odd,
That day he bought those pine pajamas
His check was good with God.

Those here without the Lord,
How do you cope?
For this morning we don't mourn
Like those who have no hope

Oh, rise up, Fruit Loop lovers -
Sing out sweet & low
With spoons held high
We bid our brother, "Cheerio!"

Coco

Although I'm not a player on this level of the blog-o-sphere, I'm allowed to admire:

Roost

Love her story. Love her Song.

Frida

Kahlo

truth or dare?

Which one is safer? Dare, and you have to chance your uncertainty for discomfort. Truth, and you have to chance your certainty for exposure.

One of my favorite days in history

Spoken-word

The art form of performing poetry in the oral tradition instead of just writing it down.

O to be this articulated.

Reading

Words that result from the spillage of another thinker's brain inspire me. They fuel my own creative spirit, but in a recharging kind of way. Often I derive a sense of motivation. But in a lot of ways reading serves as a serum, filling the cracks of my tired mind. Life-giving in a sort of vicarious notion, I am granted the ability to fly, contrive and achieve via the tiresome scribble of some antiquated writers' pen. It's the weight at the other end of the scale, and an equal contributor to my own creative offspring. Together with originality, the inspiration gleaned from those who have gone before me pushes me off the plank of wavering initiative and plunges me (a naturally passive entity) off the plank into a sea that is vaster that my arm's reach. May I be guided only by Total Truth as I navigate the indeterminable undulations of the philosophizing thing, I am.