Buttery Moon

I was going to watch my first born daughter (Ema Jean) launch her second CD (Room for Fascination) the other night and the moonrise on our way to the venue was spectacular. Sharon observed “look at the buttery moon!” which, in itself is a miracle because I am usually the one that points out celestial events to her. I looked at the moon and it was indeed buttery in at least two ways. The first way that I observed was a shininess, a shimmer on the almost perfectly round orb. The second sense was that it looked like a pat of butter. Not the square ones, but the round ones you might get at a higher scale restaurant. I loved the phrase. I like the rhythm of it and the fluttery, buttery, come whatery of it.

The evening was a stunning success. The concept for the album about her journey through some trials and tribulations and the execution of the music were inspired and inspiring.

Ema Jean emerging from her Chrysalis

You can hear and purchase Ema Jean’s music here: https://emajean.bandcamp.com/album/room-for-fascination

My daughter’s voice was indeed “buttery” in the sense of smooth and slippery and also in the sense that almost everything is better with butter.

I was determined to write a song called “Buttery Moon” and I picked up my guitar and the first chords that came out were Ami to Fma7 which is a favourite progression of mine and of two of my songwriting heroes (Bob Dylan and Neil Young). It is OK to trust that almost all chord progressions and melodies have been discovered before, yet can seem fresh and new like a newly built house that has the same design as the neighbour’s but has the individual tastes and decorations of home. Then the first verse spilled out in one splash. I went to bed with the wheels spinning about where to go next. Nada except lack of rest….

The next day I was sitting with my coffee and watching the action around our bird feeders in the backyard and I was struck by the simplicity and wonder of our natural world. A poem came out that fit the other song…Buttery Moon. How to reconcile this? abandon the first? store them separately in the notebook?

I took the dogs for a walk in the park and caught a snowflake on my tongue which reminded me of walking another dog in another park at another time late at night and another verse was born.

I realized that the three seemingly disparate songs were related somehow as they all came out of my imagination, but could not reconcile that they evoked three separate experiences and there were jumps in time of day and weather…. then I realized that they all did belong together as they all reflect gratitude:My daughter and her music (which was positive and thought provoking), The indoor and outdoor birds that bring me joy and peace while they go around just being birds, and finally, the sounds at night walking in the cold city in a Canadian winter. So many things in there: Family, wife, nature, sound, music, exercise.. all gratefully brought together under the Buttery Moon.

p

My baby sang out last night from her Chrysalis

(E)merging from the shrouds of clouds like a buttery moon

glowing over the darkest nights of dissonance

Shining healing light on ancient wounds

buttery moon, buttery moon

buttery moon, buttery moon

shining healing light 

on ancient wounds

on ancient wounds

(There were a) dozen different birds out back today grazing on seeds

(in the) blowing snow they know where to go to fulfill their needs

bless their little souls they don’t complain

in the snow, sleet, hail or the driving rain

the driving rain, the driving rain

driving rain, driving rain

cleansing, washing away

residual pain

residual pain

(catching) snowflakes on my tongue in the cool crisp air 

(there may be) better places on this earth, but I don’t know where

(I hear a) rebound off the boards at the rink across the way

someone letting off steam at the and of the day

the end of the day, end of the day

end of the day, finding my way under the buttery moon 

buttery moon, buttery moon

buttery moon, buttery moon

shining healing light 

on ancient wounds

buttery moon

I Don’t Like It Here (Not One Wee Bit)

While travelling back to North Wales from London by tube and then Train I overheard a whiny little boy who quite clearly was fed up with waiting around in Euston train station. I wrote the words he spoke: “I don’t like it here, not one wee bit” in my notes folder. Back at the home where we were staying I picked up a guitar forgetting I had tuned it DADGAD. I grabbed what I thought was a D chord but in this tuning was a D7. The next chord (Bb) was just where the song went…almost like it was dictated to me. The words rushed out in a torrent as I channeled my own experiences of discomfort and imagining those of children with Autism who I have known. As I was writing it all down I was aware that I actually DID like it there. It was a beautiful experience to travel in my ancestral homeland.

Everything is noisy, no-one’s sitting still

I won’t drink the poison, I won’t swallow that pill

I don’t like it here, not one wee bit

my clothes are feeling itchy, I need to take a shower

feeling itchy, snitchy, bitchy,  minutes seem like  hours

I don’t like it here, not one wee bit

everyone looks worried and no-one looks around

scurry hurry worry, people driven underground 

I don’t like it here, not one wee bit

we all know time is fleeting, time to beat the clock

time to miss more meetings, time to take a nature walk

I don’t like it here, not one wee bit

(today) all the trains are running, but nothing runs on time

pacing, racing, chasing, I have no peace of mind

I don’t like it here, not one wee bit

I tend to glorify the past I want time to stand still

but nothing ever lasts and nothing ever will

I don’t like it here, not one wee bit

I feel ill at ease, like I don’t fit my skin

I need to be released, my patience is running thin

I don’t like it here, not one wee bit

cooped up, locked, up locked down, locked out,

look out, look up black out, fed up

I don’t like it here, not one wee bit

I don’t like it here, not one wee bit

Whatever

You went on the attack
You stated it as fact
The truth it shot right back
Showing every little crack
“Whatever”
You stood there with a grin
Spinning your spinny spin
About never letting them in
Alternative facts again
“Whatever”
“Whatever” is never the right answer
“Whatever” doesn’t need proof
“Whatever” doesn’t need digging
“Whatever” is never the truth

Feed them all the Dogma food
The Slogans are in their beer
Homogenize the neighbourhood
And fill their heads with fear
“Whatever”
The facts you can’t collect
With a lazy intellect
The truth you can’t Select
Cause your facts are not Correct
“Whatever”

You jerk your knee and take offence
You want a wall, a rigid fence
Your hatred Trumps your common sense
You wallow in your ignorance
“Whatever”

What ever happened to human kindness?
What ever happened to equality?
Following, believing caused your Blindness
It’s only shadows of shadows that you see
“Whatever”

Thoughts And Prayers

Strolling up on easy street, It couldn’t happen here

I’d better send an easy tweet with Thoughts and prayers

I think i’ll get a coffee,Think i’ll go downstairs 

But not before sending off  My thoughts and prayers

 

Thoughts and prayers, Thoughts and prayers

Staring blindly at your screens In your easy chairs

Sending thoughts….and prayers

 

This has triggered something,I gotta show I care

But I can’t think of anything But thoughts and prayers

just another bloodbath, life is so unfair

I won’t stop a shooter, but I’m sending

 thoughts….and prayers

 

Thoughts and prayers, Thoughts and prayers

Staring blindly at your screens In your easy chairs

Sending thoughts….and prayers

 

Now If your faith had legs you wouldn’t vote for millionaires

That won’t change the gun laws, But send their thoughts and prayers

 

No blood on MY hands, And got no Helping hand to lend

But I feel like a hero Because I pressed “send”

 

Thoughts and prayers, Thoughts and prayers

Staring blindly at your screens In your easy chairs

Sending thoughts….and prayers

 

I didn’t cause it        thoughts and prayers

I can’t control it        thoughts and prayers

And I can’t cure it.    thoughts and prayers

thoughts and prayers ad nauseam thoughts and prayers

 

Just sitting in my bubble, I was caught unaware

That things like this might happen

Here’s my thoughts and prayers

 

I gotta make excuses To show I really care

Sending off my useless Thoughts and prayers

 

Thoughts and prayers, Thoughts and prayers

Staring blindly at your screens In your easy chairs

Sending thoughts….and prayers

 

Then there are the victims, But They no longer care

They’d rather have their life back

Stead of your thoughts and prayers

Thoughts and prayers, Thoughts and prayers

Staring blindly at your screens In your easy chairs

Sending thoughts….and prayers

Written in July 2018 as a response to yet another mass shooting.

Out, Damned Spot!

 

Out, damned spot
You're all I see
My guilt, my shame
my misery

out damned spot
My hurt, my blame
Out, damned spot
you’ve stolen my name

No nod for me
No, Not even a blink
Nomasté for me
I drink, think, stink!
Out damned spot

Healer heal the healer
(Out damned spot)
Listen to the birds
(Out damned spot)
Feeler feel the feeler
(Out damned spot)

Don't listen to the words
Out damned spot
Spotlights out
Out damned spot
Spotlights out
Out damned spot

This song lyric was found in an old notebook. Not sure the date, but it is a universal feeling of guilt for something. Maybe something as innocent as chipping a plate and not telling, or something like making a decision that affects others.