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I've never been ambitious about recording.

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Be ambitious

Be ambitious
But, cautiously
Keeping in view
The nature and extent
Of your strengths
And after weighing
Your weaknesses

Be ambitious of
Harnessing strengths of others
For raising a human race
For collective growth and
Harmonious co-existence
Not of developing a mass
For a mad and unquestioned following

Be ambitious
Of becoming something yourself
Not of becoming a owner
Of material significance

Be ambitious
Of evolving new values to life
Not of adding values
To things in your possession

Be ambitious
Of helping others
Realize new dimensions of existence
Not of helping them
Just to exist

Be ambitious
Of bringing more and more
Into your affectionate bond of love
Not of keeping others
Into your fold because of fear for you
Or favour from you

Be ambitious of
Knowing yourself better
Not of making others
Understand you better

Be ambitious of
Becoming a model human being
For others to emulate
Not of copying or emulating
Someone’s model

[...] Read more

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The History of Now

The recording of culture is history;
but our culture is more than that.
It's the world of human action,
and the myths we make of the fact.

The recording of history is culture,
but our history is more than that.
It informs a hidden agenda.
Unconscious of motive we act.

It's the history of now, the history of now.
It's only the present that exists as endowed.
It's the history of now. The moment - KAPOW!
That knocks you right over and muddies your brow.

Through the prism of language, we know what we know.
We carry our baggage and stories of woe.
Victor and vanquished pride cannot budge,
the dead weight of hatred and ancestral grudge.

We fight our good fights with our hand on our heart;
the music is swelling as loved ones depart.
As sheep to the slaughter, the script cannot chart,
a course more ignoble: the propagandist's art.

The recording of history is culture,
but our culture is more than that.
More than the great individuals,
the scholars so love in their tracts.

The recording of culture is history;
but our history is more than that.
Not simple dates or statistics,
the full horror and gore still attracts.

It's the history of now, the history of now.
A strange contradiction that makes sense somehow.
It's the history of now, a mystery and shroud.
The past and the future: best fiction allowed.

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Fields Of People

Wildflowers grow everywhere
Vibrations flow, things will have to change
(good evening, madam. its a recording. yes.)
Strange new ideas fill the air
Some people leave, others grieve
Some were bare but things will change
Old concepts go, new ones grow
All at once the world begins to love again
(..... hello uncle bill)
And the wildflowers grow out of fields
Fields of people
Theres no such thing as a weed
Seeds of hatred
Plant them and soon they will breed
(going to the pub, are you? evening madam.)
Wildflowers grow everywhere
Vibrations flow, things will have to change
(good evening, madam. its a recording. yes.)
Strange new ideas fill the air
Some people leave, others grieve
Some were bare but things will change
Old concepts go, new ones grow
All at once the world begins to love again
(..... hello uncle bill)
And the wildflowers grow out of fields
Love of people
Theres no such thing as a weed
Seeds of hatred
Plant them and soon they will breed
Fields of people
Theres no such thing as a weed
Seeds of hatred
Plant them and soon they will feed
Wildflowers grow everywhere
Vibrations flow, things will have to change
(good evening, madam. its a recording. yes.)
Strange new ideas fill the air
Some people leave, others grieve
Some were bare but things will change
Old concepts go, new ones grow
All at once the world begins to love again
(..... hello uncle bill)
And the wildflowers grow out of fields
(theres a bloke out here looking for the band)
Theres no such thing as a weed
Seeds of hatred
Plant them and soon they will breed
Theres no such thing as a weed
Seeds of hatred
Plant them and soon they will breed

[...] Read more

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[ Untitled]

What do you think--what do you make out of that recording?
I dont know, gloria, I just--
Some kind of singing. they sound like all kinds of people, right?
Yeah.
And then it says another child is born in india every time you call this number, right?
Yeah, right.
Does that make any sense to you?
No, it doesnt make no sense to me.
And the guy that spoke--i dont know who he is.
Yeah.
But that--it doesnt sound like no answering machine, right?
No, it aint an answering machine because theyre not saying anything, theyre just--
But what does he get--how does he make money on this? whatever hes advertising in the paper, thats the part that dont make no sense.
Oh, hes advertising this in the paper you saw it.
In the village voice, yeah. they got--thats where the kiss clinic, but they give you another number if you wanna join it. and I got intellectuals meet with other intellectuals.
Yeah.
Speak another language.
Yeah. oh.
They meet at la mai--la maisonette restaurant. they give you the price. then they give you another number to call if youre interested. this guy, all you get is this here recording, but I dont
Ow he makes money.
Yeah, yeah.
You know what Im saying? its just--they got the craziest things in that paper.
Yeah.
They come over with all--they got the craziest things. but this one here-- there must be giants, its called. and it says, call machine, and they got the phone number.
Yeah.
But what kind of money does he make? it dont make no sense. well, he dont make any money, right?
No.
But, then--then hes a nut, right? do you see--do you see any sense to that? there may be giants? that re--that recording I have on. the new one. did you hear it? I changed it. I too
The intellectuals. I put on there may be giants.
What?
Whos they may be giants?
What are you talking about?
Thats whats on my--the phone, there may be--argh, well I cant explain it. cause I dont know what it is. look in the paper, dont blame me if the guys a nut.

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Buzz Aldrin, Space Imperialist

Buzz Aldrin, Space Imperialist,
discovers a tiny brown lesion
on the end of his nose.
he uses his wife’s
concave make up mirror
to examine it more closely
and confirms his worse suspicions:
It’s malignant.
Coolly, he makes
one appointment with his dermatologist
and another in Samara.
After brushing his teeth
he takes another look
at the tiny brown Angel of Death.
It flakes off
-a brown booger.
Buzz cancels his appointments
and craves a celebratory drink terribly,
but summons his fantastic will power
and resists the urge.

II
Buzz Aldrin, Space Imperialist,
lands on the Dark Side of the Moon
and meets the indigenous Moonpupiks,
who are heavily armed yet friendly.
He has sex with many tribeswomen,
but fends off the attentions of the polymorphous perverse
tribesmen, and tells all that they must
dropp their religion and adopt the
State Religion of NASA, Tanglicanism,
which uses Tang for communion wine.
The natives say they don’t mind a bit
as they are lapsed Moonitarians
and were looking for something to fill the gap.
Disappointed they don’t offer more conversion resistance,
Buzz orders the leaders beheaded
and claims the Dark Side of the Moon
in the name of Rio Tinto,
an Australian mining corporation
whose logo he wears on his helmet
and ship.
Then he wakes up.

II(a)
Buzz Aldrin, Space Imperialist
takes another nap and,
against the advice of his fellow astronauts,
brings 4 or 5 Moonpupiks (MOON pu pix)
back to the Court of Richard Nixon, Imperial Vizard,

[...] Read more

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John Dryden

Absalom and Achitophel

In pious times, e'er Priest-craft did begin,
Before Polygamy was made a sin;
When man, on many, multiply'd his kind,
E'r one to one was, cursedly, confind:
When Nature prompted, and no law deny'd
Promiscuous use of Concubine and Bride;
Then, Israel's monarch, after Heaven's own heart,
His vigorous warmth did, variously, impart
To Wives and Slaves; And, wide as his Command,
Scatter'd his Maker's Image through the Land.
Michal, of Royal blood, the Crown did wear,
A Soyl ungratefull to the Tiller's care;
Not so the rest; for several Mothers bore
To Godlike David, several Sons before.
But since like slaves his bed they did ascend,
No True Succession could their seed attend.
Of all this Numerous Progeny was none
So Beautifull, so brave as Absalon:
Whether, inspir'd by some diviner Lust,
His father got him with a greater Gust;
Or that his Conscious destiny made way
By manly beauty to Imperiall sway.
Early in Foreign fields he won Renown,
With Kings and States ally'd to Israel's Crown
In Peace the thoughts of War he could remove,
And seem'd as he were only born for love.
What e'er he did was done with so much ease,
In him alone, 'twas Natural to please.
His motions all accompanied with grace;
And Paradise was open'd in his face.
With secret Joy, indulgent David view'd
His Youthfull Image in his Son renew'd:
To all his wishes Nothing he deny'd,
And made the Charming Annabel his Bride.
What faults he had (for who from faults is free?)
His Father could not, or he would not see.
Some warm excesses, which the Law forbore,
Were constru'd Youth that purg'd by boyling o'r:
And Amnon's Murther, by a specious Name,
Was call'd a Just Revenge for injur'd Fame.
Thus Prais'd, and Lov'd, the Noble Youth remain'd,
While David, undisturb'd, in Sion raign'd.
But Life can never be sincerely blest:
Heaven punishes the bad, and proves the best.
The Jews, a Headstrong, Moody, Murmuring race,
As ever try'd th' extent and stretch of grace;
God's pamper'd people whom, debauch'd with ease,
No King could govern, nor no God could please;
(Gods they had tri'd of every shape and size
That Gods-smiths could produce, or Priests devise.)

[...] Read more

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William Cowper

Conversation

Though nature weigh our talents, and dispense
To every man his modicum of sense,
And Conversation in its better part
May be esteem'd a gift, and not an art,
Yet much depends, as in the tiller’s toil,
On culture, and the sowing of the soil.
Words learn'd by rote a parrot may rehearse,
But talking is not always to converse;
Not more distinct from harmony divine,
The constant creaking of a country sign.
As alphabets in ivory employ,
Hour after hour, the yet unletter’d boy,
Sorting and puzzling with a deal of glee
Those seeds of science call’d his a b c;
So language in the mouths of the adult,
Witness its insignificant result,
Too often proves an implement of play,
A toy to sport with, and pass time away.
Collect at evening what the day brought forth,
Compress the sum into its solid worth,
And if it weigh the importance of a fly,
The scales are false, or algebra a lie.
Sacred interpreter of human thought,
How few respect or use thee as they ought!
But all shall give account of every wrong,
Who dare dishonour or defile the tongue;
Who prostitute it in the cause of vice,
Or sell their glory at a market-price;
Who vote for hire, or point it with lampoon,
The dear-bought placeman, and the cheap buffoon.
There is a prurience in the speech of some,
Wrath stays him, or else God would strike them dumb;
His wise forbearance has their end in view,
They fill their measure and receive their due.
The heathen lawgivers of ancient days,
Names almost worthy of a Christian’s praise,
Would drive them forth from the resort of men,
And shut up every satyr in his den.
Oh, come not ye near innocence and truth,
Ye worms that eat into the bud of youth!
Infectious as impure, your blighting power
Taints in its rudiments the promised flower;
Its odour perish’d, and its charming hue,
Thenceforth ‘tis hateful, for it smells of you.
Not e’en the vigorous and headlong rage
Of adolescence, or a firmer age,
Affords a plea allowable or just
For making speech the pamperer of lust;
But when the breath of age commits the fault,
‘Tis nauseous as the vapour of a vault.

[...] Read more

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Jean Monnet

Everybody is ambitious. The question is whether he is ambitious to be or ambitious to do.

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The Four Seasons : Autumn

Crown'd with the sickle and the wheaten sheaf,
While Autumn, nodding o'er the yellow plain,
Comes jovial on; the Doric reed once more,
Well pleased, I tune. Whate'er the wintry frost
Nitrous prepared; the various blossom'd Spring
Put in white promise forth; and Summer-suns
Concocted strong, rush boundless now to view,
Full, perfect all, and swell my glorious theme.
Onslow! the Muse, ambitious of thy name,
To grace, inspire, and dignify her song,
Would from the public voice thy gentle ear
A while engage. Thy noble cares she knows,
The patriot virtues that distend thy thought,
Spread on thy front, and in thy bosom glow;
While listening senates hang upon thy tongue,
Devolving through the maze of eloquence
A roll of periods, sweeter than her song.
But she too pants for public virtue, she,
Though weak of power, yet strong in ardent will,
Whene'er her country rushes on her heart,
Assumes a bolder note, and fondly tries
To mix the patriot's with the poet's flame.
When the bright Virgin gives the beauteous days,
And Libra weighs in equal scales the year;
From Heaven's high cope the fierce effulgence shook
Of parting Summer, a serener blue,
With golden light enliven'd, wide invests
The happy world. Attemper'd suns arise,
Sweet-beam'd, and shedding oft through lucid clouds
A pleasing calm; while broad, and brown, below
Extensive harvests hang the heavy head.
Rich, silent, deep, they stand; for not a gale
Rolls its light billows o'er the bending plain:
A calm of plenty! till the ruffled air
Falls from its poise, and gives the breeze to blow.
Rent is the fleecy mantle of the sky;
The clouds fly different; and the sudden sun
By fits effulgent gilds the illumined field,
And black by fits the shadows sweep along.
A gaily chequer'd heart-expanding view,
Far as the circling eye can shoot around,
Unbounded tossing in a flood of corn.
These are thy blessings, Industry! rough power!
Whom labour still attends, and sweat, and pain;
Yet the kind source of every gentle art,
And all the soft civility of life:
Raiser of human kind! by Nature cast,
Naked, and helpless, out amid the woods
And wilds, to rude inclement elements;
With various seeds of art deep in the mind

[...] Read more

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Rubaiyat Of A Robin - After Edward Fitzgerald - Rubaiyat Of Omar Khayyam

Jest plays with rubaiyat and, four by four,
unseals for your amusement more and more
verses together thread in rosary
unreeled to bloom till tomb will curtains draw.

Repealed are value judgement and perspective
revealed through standpoint purely introspective,
darkside concealed of moon’s yin-yang shines clear
when we’re in orbit, - option more effective.

Rolled form performs rôle midwife to perception,
sprung tongue in cheek, tweaks sense of imperfection
or willingness to leach between the lines,
impeach entrenched ideas of self-[s]election.

This prose arose as stream deprived of section,
where ‘dip at will’ will still sustain inspection,
the current’s sense, at odds with current views
ignores round holes, square pegs, top-down direction.

Here there’s no fear of critics’ peer rejection,
contention treated with due circumspection
intention is to mention for retention
an overview or clue to extrospection.

Life’s curtains are a veil through which few see,
as many haste taste-waste eternity,
mixed up, ignore life fixes finite sum
to/through infinite opportunity.

Can “Truth” exist? all ask, who seek its core,
we, modest, etch our words to sketch the score,
diverse the verses which converge to link
reflections mirrored many times before.

Vast content, style, a while, united are,
aim at soul stimulation, nothing bar,
to pleasure, treasure, or discard at will
as minds outreach to other minds on par.

Meditating, we shed light on what
tomorrow’s tot may factor into ‘bot’ -
the poet’s lot, forgot, to help all think
ahead of time, enhance life for a lot

Some seek Nirvana, Faith speaks more than “how”.
Others reject Salvation’s wraith, - w[h]ine “now”.
Verifying facts? Inventing dreams?
Each furrow-burrows with a different plough.

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John Frusciante

And for me the only way to live life is to grab the bull by the horns and call up recording studios and set dates to go in recording studios. To try and accomplish something.

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T Bone and I grew up together in Fort Worth, Texas. He had his own recording studio by the time he was seventeen years old. When we were both nineteen he made the first archival recording of my voice.

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Nowadays, it's like two different arenas, recording and touring. When I started way back in the day, doing both was nothing, you didn't have to think about it, the road and recording.

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My recording career has luckily run the gamut of recording environments.

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Anne Hathaway

You can alter movie singing so much because you go into the recording studio and, just technology for recording has gotten so good, you can hold out a note and they can combine a note from take 2 and a note from take 8.

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The thing is that I have a really intense, almost compulsive need to record. But it doesn't end there, because what I record is somehow transformed into a creative thing. There is a continuity. Recording is the beginning of a conceptual production. I am somehow collapsing the two - recording and producing - into a single event.

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I Was Made For Loving You

Back when I was dating Rich,
he gave me Kiss’s guitar pic.
Gene Simons handed it to him,
in the 1978 recording session.
I Was Made For Loving You Baby”
the song they were recording at the time,
Gene was playing the bass and singing just fine.
Now if I google the price of this guitar pic,
It would be the price of ten times 9.
But I’m not selling I’m sorry to say,
I will play my guitar with it someday.

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I Was Made For Loving You

Back when I was dating Rich,
he gave me Kiss’s guitar pic.
Gene Simons handed it to him,
in the 1978 recording session.
I Was Made For Loving You Baby”
the song they were recording at the time,
Gene was playing the bass and singing just fine.
Now if I google the price of this guitar pic,
It would be the price of ten times 9.
But I’m not selling I’m sorry to say,
maybe I will play my guitar with it someday.

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Prototype

[Intro]
I hope that you're the one
If not, you are the prototype
We'll tiptoe to the sun
And do thangs I know you like
[Hook]
I think I'm in love again [repeat]
[Verse 1]
Today must be my lucky day
Baby, you are the prototype
Do sumn' outta the ordinary
Like catch a manitee
Baby you are the prototype
I think I'm..
[Hook]
[Verse 2]
If we happen to part
Lord knows I don't want that
But hey, we can't be mad at God
We met today for a reason
I think I'm on the right track now
[Hook]
The Scene
Come here
[Hook]
[Outro (ad libs)]
Girl, right now I wanna say, I wanna say
I wanna say stank you very much
For picking me up
And bringing me back to this world
I can't, I'm not
I can't afford to not record
I thank I wanna say
I thank I wanna say stank you, stank you
Smelly much!
For picking me up and bringing me back to this world
Hey, hey John! Are we recording our ad libs?
Really?? Were we recording just then?
Let me hear that, that first one
When I first started

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Get Witit

(performed by vanilla ice)
Disaster, systems break when I quake
Make no mistake, the crowd stays awake when im
Shakin and bakin and Im takin all mcs
Smilin on the mic cause Im gonna make big gees
Pow! holy cow! its like a bang or a boom
Mcs see me comin and theyre clearin the room
Ouuta my path cause theyre scared of the result
Dont wanna battle cause to me thats an insult
Man, I wouldnt even lower myself
I got your record and put it on the shelf
I didnt play it, I used it as a frisbee
Your girl saw me doin it and she kissed me
A good sport cause the balls in my court
And in the long run Im takin no shorts
Slayin competition till the parties done
You want a non stop jam
Heres the right one
Chorus
Gotta get it going on
Get wit it
Bust that beat
Yes, Im blessed and I must confess
Put me to the test and youll say Im the best
I dont joke, I dont even jest
Every line in my rhyme makes me better than the rest
Ill live high on the hog, on the fat of the land
Goddamn, Ill be so hot Ill have to walk with a fan
On the brink of success, champagne & caviar
In limos, just like a superstar
Business. leave your number at my office.
Not for sale, but the fans all bought this
Money pourin in. just like a faucet left on
Cause my rhymes are that strong-last long
Just like the coppertop battery
You think Im dope, come on, dont flatter me
cause I been hearin that stuff for years
Respect from my peers and Im changin the gears
Of that hip-hop engine, not to mention
Retire at 21 and get a pension
Gonna bust it out and your welcome to come
You wanna non stop jam heres the right one
Chorus
Heres another rhyme to break the ice
You couldnt purschase my talent at any price
Dont chase a roni cause I know that I can get em
Im not the type so I dont even sweat em
Ill love a girl and then dis the same one
Cause you know that theres more
Where that came from

[...] Read more

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