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
It just is. I can’t explain it. It has meaning that’s not too particular. It just is. Without presumption, Without assumption or corruption. It just is. You know what I mean? Is it something you have seen or breathed? It just is Something we need more of And something we can’t really do without. It
Seven: What do I know about 7’s? Not that much. I know that they get Used when Jesus Talks about forgiveness. “Seventy times seven”. Is there something magic About seven? I don’t know. I think the real point is “Keep forgiving until you lose count.” OK. That’s what I’ll aim for. Who do I have
Open the curtains Of the soul And let the Sun of day Shine. The heart closed Is the heart frozen. Solid and impenetrable, It lets nothing in and Nothing out. Hearts can sing A song not yet heard And sorely needed by A friend. The soul so Exposed does not Have to let the cold
There are moments when No muse comes. I am Hounded by lists not Yet accomplished And expectations not Yet met. There are moments when The inspiration seems to flow. I am gifted with a presence: As if the divine was my blood; A kind of grace for which I give extreme thanks. ~ by Stan
When sun glints off snow It is a Brilliant Moment of Creativity. This creative force Does not have to “think” For a moment to Make such Wonder. There is no gigantic Effort required. All of the requirements Were already Around — available, if you will — And at a moment’s notice Become — are made
