She’s been dreaming Of mercy Ever since I’ve known her. Has she found it? Certainly it has not Been a gift I brought her: Change, frustration, comfort, Struggle, more change, Beauty, fear, change again, Even occasional joy — Yes. Mercy? I think not. So, I think she is still looking And the gift I long […]
Being without you Those few days Left me with A sense of Sparseness That I Do not Adore. I am Quite simply Happy to be Back in your Arms and Holding you In mine. ~ by Stan Stewart Copyright © 2011, 2016 by muz4now, inc. All Rights Reserved.
Here’s the thing: Moving fast is fine. It’s just not enough. Our movement has To mean something. It has to be more Than just momentum. It must be filled with Passion and vigor And vitality. Yes! We fill our speed With liveliness. And then, when our Destination is reached, We pause. We breathe. We may
I have a plan. At least an outline. I know how to execute. I don’t need to focus on anything else. I have the creativity and inspiration. It’s just about starting. Once I get started, I know it will get done. So Begin. Ah! Beautiful! ~ by Stan Stewart Copyright © 2011, 2016 by muz4now,
At the moment, I have to talk About the weather. So often, “talking About the weather” Is such a cliche About shallow Conversations. In this case, it Changed a part of My life. Yesterday, I had Twenty-four wondrous Hours remaining to Be with you; At home. Now, because of A little weather, I am 2,000
Obviously, bipeds are typically Upright. Or so I thought. I am stooped over; practically Singularly huddled at my desk. You would think that I am my Own mass of selves, frightened By the weight of oppression, Looking for a way to hide from The fearsome oppressor — However real or imagined. You’re asking what I’m
Doing something, Any One thing In a fresh way Makes it new. Don’t let it get You stopped or Started; The way your Sanity Parted. Instead, step With vigour Into the simple Trigger of Your life. Don’t make it complex. It’s not. It is simple. Make it so. ~ by Stan Stewart Copyright © 2011,
Jazz is this intellectual Sort of jive where I Have to think Or go completely numb. Either and neither Will work when it comes to Jazz. Riffing away the night In a jazz club, These cats know where It’s at. Or maybe they Don’t care Where it’s at and That’s the real secret. Really: if
“Cat got your tongue?” I’d have to say no Except for the fact That I have nothing To say. Nothing — that is — Except for my meager Attempts to verbalize The bottomless Pit of my fear and love And how they become A melting pot that Overflows with longings And wishes and Wishes that
Inspiration is exceptional. Do not take it for granted. I awoke in a thick sweat, Though our bedroom still Had the chill of Morning air. I knew there was much To do And chose not to make Much a do about other Things this morning. I took the guitar off It’s rack and plucked A
