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Music for Art Show

by blob castle

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1.
4/4 still a popular form Quadruped like a horse, Galloping thru Missouri’s geological warps Tall grasses and short, stamped flat by the force traversing new grooves Two hooves find purchase and formalize new curvatures It’s funny the drummer’s feet are here from the eyes hidden Just two hands up top like a square with two sides missin At the bar request a water sparkling Pause to verify phone wallet car keys imposed, the grid on the manifold, a face with two hands below, as quiet as standing oak the frame, perchance it broke, would it make a sound, beige and the brown, bubblegum & daisy compound, blue berries, cherries, and oranges arrayed on the count and the gray that surrounds They say a giant gourd of iron ore Which from side to side was 90 miles or more, One day did strike this flying orb, Well on the other side it was night of course, And hit the earth with such frightening force As to exterminate all the dinosaurs But isn’t it great? I came centuries late! Instead of their fate I revel with mates in venues ornate Drinking glenlivet straight, My breath, on escape, resembles a wraith (Lia twisted a j) And it’s a hell of a high! I’m wealthy and dry Overwhelmingly blithe Enjoying periodic swellings of pride, What’s the good of telling the time, The story I tell in my mind, Embellish with relics and delicate lies, Dodge truth like a big rock that fell from the sky Burn one for the one whose turn’s come, Burst come like nerves on the first gun Absurd, the world stunned by the purse The burst lung from the germs and blurred sun The church, asserts drum against cursing tongues, whence the word sprung? The mirth is sucked, like mike, from love The first cup was spilt, the second was slurped up, The third remains undisturbed, her door shut The fourth was bird dung Burn one for the one in search of, A life that occurs with the sun The stern truss of the carriage, The sure brush, the bearing, Fern dust in the prairies, I tell you spread beauty A word few use or skew and use loosely, For now it’s the blue smoothie, Tomorrow it’s green from the broccoli trees Lots to carry, various alloys and barrels and animal hides Sticks like wicks burn down the candle of time, Taps levered dispatch beverages, Guitar cases filling with treasure, the drummer in good measure We who chart daily a monochrome grid, In grayscale chainmail, spout cobblestone quips The old same old same can’t complain and still does it On the weekend fill rooms to gorge on spilled colors From bells and skilled brushes Two by fours, The slamming doors, the glaring windows’ endless floors, Ground to sky, Pounce the ear, pounce the eye By the ounce I sell, by the pound I buy All around I fly, Peddle quality wares in the towns I find Pocket squares tied in a boundless line amaze
2.
Kichkelem Yum Má tojechí, ma xan taan in paatik ka beychak Mix máakoon to ́oj Niib óolal ta tséenten tial p ́aatken e maak bejlaena. Ta kansajten u jats ́utsil e yóok ́ol kab bey xan in k ́aaj óol in juul. Niib óolal jel bixechño, tumen ka oks óol ti tulakal baax ku ts ́aik tech e kuxtala. Jel u pajtal in chiichnaktal in ts ́ikil ta wetel, bey xan ts ́ook in áalitech baxoob tial u naak ́al ti a pixan. Jach taj yaajten A Kuxtale, jach ta yaajchaji, ts ́ok a maansik k ́ak ́as tukuloob mix maak u k ́aat u mans. Bey tun, tulakal e k ́aasoba ts ́ook u muuk ́iintik a pixan. Bale, k ́aasé, a yax pailé u yabilmanech. A ch ́ibalilé u yabilmanech, ku sen tukultikech Tulakaloon k ́aat íilech maalob. Wa u k ́aat u yaal a kuxtail yan u p ́aatal 2,173 millas naachil tone, ka beychak. Jel pajtal kuxtal kex naach aanko ́on, in k ́aat ka a ójeelte ti anen ta wetel. Tak i maan ta wetel, tak in k ́aaj óoltik makoob yéetel tech, ka a éesten kajoó má in k ́aaj ólobi. Jach yaab bax k ́aabet in kanik ti tech. A ts ́ibalilobe, jach taj k ́aabet teen, ku áantken ka ójel tux kin tal, bey ka in kan tuux kin bin. Tak in k ́aaj óoltik e yóok ́ol kab ta wetel, ka óojel bax a má in ójel. Kin k ́aatkitech, má tubs ken, Kin k ́aatiktech má a tubsik k-ch ́ibalil. K- Yabilmanech Yéetel yaakunaj, beyxan maloob pákaat. A yaax palil.
3.
What is life if not a poem, something in which to be woven and undone. a purple mystic of an overflow, tripping over its own gorgeous gutter and glamour. what is a poem if not keeping up with change-- the work of a scribe whose learned to blink at just the right times to leave space for the drum beat to capture an unutterable thing? what is a poet if not an attempt to grow infinite arms to hold all this lament and hallelujah. the deep space sounds of the soul are a lilypad and a frog’s love affair, both stamen and pistil of a flower, the sensuality of spring rubbing its back on winter’s blessing of reflection. what is music if not the seasons in motion from sense to finger, to mouth, to ear, back to sense. creation in a menage a trois with order and flow. what is art but stillness of a moment breaking out of its box of solitude? what are you but a baby of all this boisterous beauty with your foot in your mouth, tumbling over all of this plenty, slightly blind to being?
4.
Tango in place Arm at the back Arm up high on the brow The day don’t come back The way it left was the way it was found There is another one up ahead There is another one up ahead Turn find out how hard to keep within narrow lines Don’t go fallow The mind that stops is one less life for deaths traveling circus show The line has many ways of leading it can break you in parts take you down all at once It’s the nature of the string You think you are headed one way think you’re coming in the front door But it’s the service entrance and you don’t have a uniform Get it straight now Get it straight now Epaulettes on your shoulder pads means higher up on the pecking line but lower than what you planned You want to be the gatekeeper or the bouncer in the back It’s all by design but you get no time on the drafting board it’s not your call throw the dice play the card Makes no difference in the end pick up the pieces mend the torn shirt pray to the stone gods pray for rain pray for drought call in your chips see how little there is
5.
Lost in the feed absorbed by the infinite depth of these rectilinear screens Thumb scrolls and eyes scan the scenes Loading and reloading with always new portals to see, enraptured by stories, reels, and IGTVs Millions of people presenting masking inner grief I know because I too have been an attention thief pouring over how this next post could make you show your teeth hopefully resulting in a greater following one, two, or if I'm lucky, three We have subscribed to this game that keeps our eyes locked steady Ever present sponsored content in the chamber lock loaded and ready to capitalize on our attentive minds on our imaginings these things that have come to be such hot financial commodities sought after with heavy fervent hungry visceral and passionate greed Every moment spent with that advertisement brings prosperity to those sitting pretty in the exclusive club of the top one percent Now could you imagine could it possibly be that we have been undervaluing our own personalities through being constantly chained consumed with these never ending always fresh potent pungent with interest feeds Designed to keep us scrolling, and scrolling, and scrolling, and scrolling, and scrolling, and scrolling, and scrolling, and scrolling, and scrolling, until we finally need to surface to breathe just long long enough to get lost back inside of the feed I am left to ponder and muse the wondrous things this would would see If we would all just collectively just put down these screens and explored with great depth our vast infinite inner beings Imagine with me the loves that we would develop what passions we could fertilize and bloom if instead we'd reinvest our time to inhale the sweet perfumes of intense creative focus in order to leave behind beautiful totems in our wake
6.
7.

about

Music created to accompany paintings created by Robert Castillo (blob) on display at the Kansas City Artist Coalition from May 7th-28, 2021.
Paintings can be viewed by visiting robertcastillo.art/visual-art/.

Instruments played by Robert Castillo: upright and and electric basses, guitar, snare drum, suspended cymbal, shakers, hompax, keyboard, sample pad

credits

released May 7, 2021

Produced and mixed by Robert Castillo
Mastered by J Ashley Miller @ The Infoaming Vertex
Album cover by JC Franco

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blob castle Kansas City, Kansas

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