Writer • Musician
It's more than being good with words. To write well, you have to be receptive to the things going on around you and within you. The second part came naturally to me while the first part, the technique, took more time and practice. Quite a few years. I still haven’t perfected it, but eventually I …
Continue reading "Letters #3 — Unconventional Prose and poetry"
My religion is one of my creation pretty sure I am the only member.
I’m going back in where things are seen by stepping back and laying low staying loose, ready to go this is only a pome, but we’re on the move never free bound to earth to make the scene just breath and see dance and dwell right in your beat there you’ll see it’s you and …
John 'Jack' Lucious Quinby is a journalist who specializes in current affairs and American music. Jude Moonlight is a musician and songwriter, a blues singer and guitar playin' vagabond. The following is a transcript of one in several conversations between the two friends, though the date of the recording is unknown. We are quite sure …
There is a feeling I get Watching this show Villagers in the wasteland Villagers out in the forests of our escaping Here we are When we learn to let go Of our obsessions Our desires, our possessions Our mental discussions And simply enjoy the quiet The waves on the beach The whisper of the wind …
once I was wanting to accumulate (just) stacks of papers and notes as I busied myself with more writing and creating and letting the stacks of papers grow like towers & skyscrapers in a white city as I busied myself like Hephaestus deep in the fiery trenches grinding out work after work But now you …
I am looking at the blood dripping while listening to the violin Perlman playing Johann Sebastian Bach envisioning illustrating the pages of Chekov and I’m on the trail of Don Quixote as a Spanish guitar plays let’s stop pretending as we look at these paintings lining the halls of the evening museum we’re living we’re …
You and I at twilight slow arrival of night, sweet delight day fades out of sight, a howling wind from within, rising Your arms surround me, take me in Zion hall of kings Rising tall as night falls, the silence it brings air is thin, time is still The sky quiet, silent hill You and …
My only grievance with heaven is the low premium it places on living. Put down your phone, the tube won’t deliver you the truth. Step away from your computer and your handheld tv’s Telling you what to think what to worship, and who to be Heaven awaits, it’s golden gates Outside your door The choral …
Lyrics by Ren Michael Copyright © 2017 Well the Devil poured whiskey down upon my grave He spoke as he smiled, rise young child, it’s a brand new-day As I rose from way down under, he laughed and waved goodbye Old souls like you and I young blood, you know we never die Well a …
A Letter Written by Sam Lyons to J.L. Quinby, Esq. | Quinby! You sly devil, you… You recently asked me what I thought was the most defining aspect of my philosophy. The cornerstone of my ethos, so to speak. Well, I think I have my answer. One of the strongest components of my own self-awareness, …
Continue reading "Repetition and Awareness. The Universal Dance."
Jude Moonlight's Journal | Last night I went out walking and I heard the distant sound of drums playing late in the night. At first I couldn't quite find where they were coming from but I walked farther down the street and deeper into my neighborhood and I heard the sounds grow louder, so I …
Continue reading "I do feel like playing. Last night I went out walking…"
Reading John Muir's My First Summer in the Sierra makes me wish that over the past few years, I had kept a more comprehensive journal detailing my own travels, along with my many encounters and experiences in Los Angeles; as opposed to what I fear might only amount to scattered, disconnected ramblings and loose sketches based on the things I …
When I'm on the move, I write in verse Small poems to most accurately or honestly reflect the things going on around me, and how I feel about those things Often times, most of the time, these poems aren't any good But other times, they turn out alright. Simple. To the point. Just getting the …
your eyes begin to open, you look out long, pour over your mythology, over the scattered clouds across the desert, your precious afternoon the desert you know well, probably the same old New Mexico state road On the morning so cold, when you stood all alone with the night the night the night you were …
Ren Michael 