Love Is In The Small Things

I hold her hand

So nervous like the first time

She offers me a gentle smile

It hides a trace of pain

2 Days mean more

When they’e numbered

I can’t imagine my days Here 

Living without her

3 She use to make my meals

Use to mend my clothes 

Now there’s only shadows 

Where she made a small house our home

4 The sounds of laughing children

Once filled these empty rooms

The best of times in our life

We danced and laughed and struggled through

Those were the days

Even if we didn’t know it

Love is in the small things

Seldom seen and often go unnoticed 

1 She wants to walk in the garden

But her legs have grown weak

I help her to the window 

She shuffles her feet

2 Holding hands in silence 

Siting in the setting sun (ya see)

Love doesn’t belong 

Only to the young

3 Sunday drives in the country

Picnics by the lake

It doesn’t seem that long ago

But time moves on, refuses to wait

4 Whispers a Hail Mary

Tells me there’s angel circling

She can hear them calling

Calling her name

5 I kiss her forehead, and say

If you must go, I understand

What will I do without my sweetheart

Who I shared my life, hand in hand

Those were the days

Even if we didn’t know it

Love is in the small things

Seldom seen or noticed 

Life Without Love Is A Lie

I don’t wanna run, I don’t wanna hide

Finally found someone who made me feel alive

I don’t wanna waste, no more time 

Life without you, has got me losing my mind

You got me running in circles blind

You got me crossing forbidden lines

I know we both, have are reasons why

But baby, this life’s too short to compromise

Can’t get you out of my heart

As hard as I try

Life without love is a lie

Every-time we say goodbye

I die a little bit more inside

I know we both feel the same way

I want you more than words can say

No one see’s, and no one knows

The pain we feel, as we’re letting go

No one wins, we both loose

The ones we love, isn’t who we choose

Can’t get you out of my heart

As hard as I try

Life without love is a lie

Give Yourself Some Room

Give yourself some room

Give yourself some space

This life’s a marathon

Not a foot race

Beware of fools and takers

Be your own best friend

It’s all about where you’re going

And not where you’ve been

Learn to love yourself

Find a way to make a home

Know I’m always with you, 

No matter how far you may roam

Take your time

Don’t get in a hurry

Life’s to short, 

To waste on fear and worry

Don’t be afraid to try

Be strong, be brave

Don’t feel alone

We’re all just, finding our way

Live out loud

Live wild and free

Don’t let anyone tell ya 

Who or what ya suppose to be

Chase down every dream

Cause time flies by fast

Let go of your sorrow

Even the toughest of times will pass

(Repeat Chorus)

Music and Aliens

Thanks for taking the time to listen to my music. I don’t expect any great revelations or scathing critiques. It’s just nice to know that my music is being listened to by someone out there in that big ole universe.
Perhaps, once a sound wave of music is made, it goes off into infinity, passing by silent stars, forgotten planets and yet unnamed galaxies. Maybe an alien will come across the sound wave and find themselves happily tapping their foot to the beat—–wouldn’t that be nice.
Music is one of the few things that brings order to the chaos—-and for a brief moment provides refuge to the weary.
So my good friend, open up your ears and heart and take a peek at the sound of my soul……
P.S. I’m big on planet Zaltar—-ha ha
119-1194452_alien-listening-to-music-alien-listening-to-music.png

In Spite Of It All

I didn’t sleep well last night, all on the account of our raggedy-ass phone call. I got up in the middle of the night and walked around in circles. The sun refused to come up, the stubborn sky remained gray from all the wild fires burning up California. I knew it was a Monday. I can feel Mondays even if I’d lived in a cave for the last year and had no access to a calendar. It smells, tastes and has the stench of a Monday. I don’t even work anymore—so it really doesn’t matter what day it is——-but it’s definitely a fucking Monday.

Music. I love all kinds of music. But as the saying goes, “There’s only two kinds of music—Good music and bad music”. But music like all art, is subjective——-So who’s to say what’s crap and what’s God smacked?

Music and writing have been good friends to me over the years. It consoled me, taught me lessons about myself and others, its given my blues a place to call home, its made me laugh and awoken the devils and angels haunting my soul. It’s my Kryptonite to stave off all of life’e bullshit–it’s given me a tiny glimpses of nirvana. 

I don’t know if I’ll ever sale one of my songs or stories and I suppose at this point it doesn’t really matter all that much to me. I’ve never written anything with the sole purpose of being published. I just enjoy the process of writing, dropping my fishing line into the abyss and seeing what I reel in——it’s always a mystery and fills me with a sense of wonder. A lot of my stories and songs are catch and release——Damn, see what I did there with that clever lil metaphor twist?

Here’s what I think. I think we should be kinder to one another. We should be supportive and encouraging. We should find ways to be complementary and positive. We’re all just fumbling around with ideas, emotions, words, melodies, rhythms and vibrations. We may not be on the same vibration, but we can be there for one another at some level. You’re the one who turned me on to the vibration concept. I believe there’s some truth to your theory. Those closet to us are the ones who vibrate at the same frequency. It’s something that once experienced requires no explanation.

The world is full of critics and nay sayers. So, am I asking you to offer only “happy” input in regards to my music? I guess I am. And if you feel this is phony—Well maybe it is. Art is a lonely pursuit and artist need supporters and benefactors. I’m sure you can come up with many reasons why this is hypocritical or of no value. You are entitled to your “truths”.  But for me, find good things to say or say nothing at all. And in return you can expect nothing less of me. And if this rubs you the wrong way, then I think it’s best to no longer send you projects—-I respect your opinion, although it differs from mine. 

P.S, Van Gough painted like a three year old. In his lifetime he only sold one painting. It’s hard to believe in yourself until the world believes in you. I think ya have to let go of what the world thinks. 

“Thank you, in spite of it all

For the good, the bad, the rise, the fall” 

VU

“I’ll be me, and you’ll be you

In the music, find me, I’ll find you”

VU
Love ya always brother,