that's it...i've had it...i've been pushed to my limit of pop music disgust, and i'm about to do some serious ragging, so fasten your seat belts, it's going to be a bumpy blog!

"baby if you give it to me, i'll give it to you, i know what you want, you know i got it..." cooed in breathy desperation for a hit by none other than the possessor of one of the greatest vocal treasures in pop history, miss mariah carey, who could marry those beautiful vocal cords to any number of worthwhile songs, yet resorts to the ashanti school of minimum talent, maximum paycheck recording. sorry suckers, i'm a bit miffed by this. in a recent interview with jay-z and 50-cent, they talked about how we've got to just face it, the world wants sex, drugs, and violence in their songs, so it's about supplying the seedy demand for trash. sorry suckers, i'm a bit miffed by this. i challenge you to listen to casey kasem or rick dees sometime and check out the pitiful excuses for art that we are being fed for the sake of you know what...ka-ching! where are the artists who are truly aspiring to the utmost levels of creativity to uplift the human spirit? where are the revolutionaries who seek to rise above the smog of the recording industry landscape?

i love music. i love the arts. i love the power they contain to impact our worlds and the big world for greatness and positivity and healing and fun and truth and peace. to be blunt, i am seeing the prostitution of beautiful raw creativity day after psychic-debris-filled day. i despise hearing astonishing...excuse me but that busta/mariah song just came on as i'm typing this...how poetic is that? that's like the dark spirits trying to spit in my face and distract me from typing the truth. well it ain't gonna work, babies. now as i was saying, i DESPISE hearing astonishing God-given talent like Christina Aguilera and many others, uniting the power of their phenomenal instruments with the equivalent of artistic pigslop.

i'm going over to a little eastside park to teach some kids about music tomorrow. what a challenge to meet them where they are at...singing their juvenile praises of pigslop...to take them where they need to be...at a better place of greater artistic fulfillment, at least for one moment in time. we will play games, laugh--i hope, act crazy, and ultimately give our attention to a different kind of artistic approach, that rises above the "casting pearls before swine" syndrome.

now my girl beyonce is on. lest you think i dis all da pop out dere, let me tell you that one of my new faves is miss beyonce, a huge talent, who always seems glamorous rather than gaudy, stable rather than sleazy, and just exuding a joy and inner glow through her performances. and she is really aspiring to be a whole and complete talent, exploring different artistic styles and mediums, as well as composing and producing. that's a strategy i can get behind 100%.

believe me, i have so-o-o-o much more to say on this subject, but for now i will end with one last anecdote. i went to an inner city park last night and did a little concert. as i was chatting up the kids, attempting to interact with them and connect with their culture, we talked about songs they liked. they even wanted to come to the microphone and be stars themselves for a moment. so i said fine, as long as you can choose a song that has lyrics that i will like...meaning non-profane, non-obscene, non-gangsta, non-thug, non-bump and grind. guess what...none of us could even think of any that would pass my test, so none of them got to come up to the mike. if that doesn't strike you as at least a little bit sad, then i'd like to congratulate you on receiving my "numb and dumb" award. please slap yourself, pour water over your head, anything to wake up and realize how foolishly we're squandering and surrendering the awesome forces of art, and watching our children turn into foulmouthed porn-flick supporters right before our eyes. no i am unfortunately not exaggerating. that is what we're seeing right now, and i'm sick of it. let the record show, i am devoting my life to the utter annihilation of crap that was supposed to be creativity. it grieves me to the core of my being every time i smell the repulsive stench of compromise in music and all of the arts. so i guess if i decide to stay in this whacked-out world, i'm going to have to be a force for the complete elimination of this vomitous compromise. stay tuned...there's plenty more where this came from. sorry fence-sitters and apathetic non-wavemakers, i can no longer be silent about such critically important matters. go ahead and rationalize if that makes you feel better, but when you find yourself immersed in a vat of rancid artistic jelly, don't come running to me. i'll be safely ensconced on my mountaintop of idealism, tossing down postcards to the masses below that say, "having a WONDERFUL time--wish you were here, BUT YOU HAD YOUR CHANCE, AND YES, I DEFINITELY TOLD YOU SO!"

(currently unavailable in a poetry volume -- maybe #40 eventually)

i just heard his sons are supposedly dead
i'm alarmed at my joy in the face of this dread
i know he's been evil and killed a multitude
but smiling at this tragedy just seems rude
nobody wins within a war game
no one can stay obliviously the same
i grieve the options of long long ago
when compassion thwarted the rash overthrow
when relationships were tended with care
instead of mistreating our kin over there
and millions of lost loveless moments have led
to this season of lying in conflict's bed
i guess i'm referring to more than just us
or myself or him or the hothead fuss
i grieve the option above every other
the greatest response of loving one another
what does love mean in such a twisted mess
maybe it means grieving more and gloating less
maybe it means remembering what matters
instead of rejoicing when foes writhe in tatters
i know it's a fight we're itching to win
but let's take time to define victory again

LYRICALERT

when you look at me, what do you see
and how will you remember me
a detour or your destiny
the way things were supposed to be
the face that used to smile for you
the eyes that used to shine for you
the love that used to see you through
who's gonna see you through now?

the average person will not be able to guess who/what these words are about. that's just as well because i can hardly embrace their existence myself. old song...they say that breaking up is hard to do, now i know, i know that it's true, don't say that this is the end, instead of breaking up i wish that we were making up again. breaking up, making up, those are the tides of life. and although the tides get high, i'm still holding on, 'cause i'm gonna be my own number one. ps--i dare you to try and beat me in the red box music version of trivial pursuit!

LYRICALERT

i can't speak for you, my friend
but i can take care of myself
i've wasted too much precious time
sittin' on the zombie shelf
so believe me when i say
i know, i know what it's like
but i got some advice to give
so you can begin to live
so straighten up your heart and fly right

it's time for you to
do something unexpected
don't just stand there unaffected
surprise your soul with an attitude of love
get a taste of revival, you might like it

dictionary.com defines revival as "a restoration to use, acceptance, activity, or vigor, after a period of obscurity or quiescence." that's further affirmation that "revival" is a word with my name on it. hope you can say the same, friend; and let's all get off our zombie shelves for good. there's a difference between pausing for self and pausing on a shelf.

(from manifest mystery volume #35)

born in pain, i relied
on my instinct to get by
it did not help me deal
with being BLACK

born as jewel, blessing tree
soul dysfunction tarnished me
it revealed wounds unhealed
from being BLACK

all the good, all the bad
all the lies that drove me mad
all the colorquest confusion
that the bloodlines never had
but when i find life redefined
there is joy transcending sad
so phenomenal am i
wondrous power gets me high

born to fly beside you
in the sky with love so true
i am free, i am proud
to be BLACK

(from manifest mystery volume #36)

love is like a little death
its wind dispels the selfish breath
and rocks the kingdom i had planned
that's when i start to understand...

wow, this excerpt grips my guts and bears witness as caustic, killing truth. have you ever experienced the agony of love? how about the glory of love? i can hear that old song in my head...you got to give a little, take a little, and let your poor heart break a little. that's the story of, that's the glory of love. boy, if it were only that simple. maybe it is...

i like this little desperation musing...it comes from some really deep places, and i surprised myself at how poignant it became as it sprung to life right after the death of a tv icon:

(from manifest mystery volume #38)

solitary fingertips
reaching out for phantom grips
imagination runs wild
bumming out my inner child

saw that mister rogers died
condolences to his bride
now that she is on her own
that means we are both alone

tinted glasses taint all views
wet perception warps all views
no matter what it might be
it's about the tears of me

cheddar chips won't soothe the plight
of a bloody hard day's night
no supply for soul demands
of these bloated unheld hands

fifth of july...red, white, and blue withdrawal. call me non-patriotic, but that color combo appeals to me far less than it did before. please don't misunderstand, i feel blessed in many ways to live in america, i am thankful for the freedom and abundance we have here. but in the last few years, the deepest gravitation of my heart is toward things global, and not just our own back yard. i think pride in your team, family, or cause is to be embraced and commended, but not not not at the expense of seeing the bigger picture, the greater principle. it brings me down when i think of my/our american overconsumption compared to the hunger elsewhere in the world. it brings me down when i think of my/our avoidance and/or apathy toward gross oppression and suffering elsewhere in the world as i sit in the comfortable quality of life i call poverty and the rest of the world would call paradise. it brings me down when i sense this attitude of supremacy and superiority when we really have so much to learn from the ways of the rest of our so-called poorer earth-citizens. it brings me down, but ultimately lifts me way up, to gradually snap out of certain programmed responses that have kept me in false, frozen paradigms for way way way too long. i will be very candid and state that overblown campy pseudo-patriotism is in that category for me. my gratitude is sky-high for the extraordinary life sacrifices made by our soldiers past and present. but i have come to believe that a certain line gets crossed, and what should have stayed as healthy, enriching, perspective-filled pride erupts into this volcano of propagandous mush. go ahead and give me a mid-year bah-humbug if you wish, but these are my authentic fifth of july reflections, and the kaleidoscopic colors of the world are far more beautiful to me than red, white, and blue. to end this on a lighter note, get a vision from one of my songs from "joseph and the amazing technicolor dreamcoat" that i'm currently performing. picture a world of "red and yellow and green and brown and scarlet and black and ochre and peach and ruby and olive and violet and fawn and lilac and gold and chocolate and mauve and cream and crimson and silver and rose and azure and lemon and russet and gray and purple and white and pink and orange and blue." that's what i call moving from a fourth to a fifth of july mentality. it's a mysterious adjustment process, but i like it, and i'll still gladly suck on a sweet red, white and blue frozen bomb pop once a year in honor of the holiday.