Lawnchair

This song was written when I returned home to California from my dad's funeral. I couldn't adjust to my new world where there was no best friend, or dad around. I don't know how the rest of humanity gets through this shit, it's really fucking painful and just doesn't seem right or just...or at the least bit sane...to have someone love you unconditionally their entire life, then rip them away. He was strong, kind, compassionate, just...and tender enough to have any baby he ever met in the palm of his hand within minutes...he would use his impression of Donald Duck to win kids over time and again.

He had 6 of his own, and my sisters all gave him grandkids. He was consistently the best man in the room wherever he went. He did the dad thing to perfection, that is why he is so sorely missed in this world that seems to be lacking good fathers, and good men for that matter anymore.

Like I said...I was in a rough spot, questioning everything...again, and this time I turned to God, who, luckily enough...was found out back in my garden, up in the sky, out at the beach, in a flock of Pelicans that left a visible golden green trail while flying North for the summer, in a man's face on 9th and Irving....who actually may be God, old...white hair...a Greatful Dead button on his camouflage hat...wherever I looked.

At times I thought I was going mad, and maybe I was...but if that's what my brain had to do to save the rest of me, God did a good job with wiring the brain to get us through shit like this. My dad's heaven probably involves white tailed deer. I'm sure if there is one, he's there...chillin' in the woods, eating peanut butter cups.

The song came about from a vision I had while sitting on a lawn chair, crying, trying to talk to my dad and not getting any response from the stars above. This overwhelming pain and suffering would not leave me, no matter where I went, who I was with, or what I did...

Writing these words down, recording the song, playing it live out here in San Francisco-has helped me get it out of myself and into the world of art, so perhaps...with any luck, someone will catch it and reflect, ponder, wonder, doubt, come to terms with...or just like the melancholy melody.

It's the first song I wrote alone, I usually work with guitarist while writing lyrics, I like to form separate melodies to theirs, and develop words as the tune evolves. For this one, I hummed the melody into a microphone then layed the vocals over top of it.

My girlfriend at the time kept nagging and bitching to "try something different" with music...so i didn't use any instruments...other than my body. The original version is on my shelf, the vocals are all done on the first take, there aren't many, but they are perfect for what they are...and how they came to be...completely spontaneous and perfectly deflating.

There is a video of a live performance on www.myspace.com/kameha under the video section. It was performed and recorded at the Riptide. My friends Lisa and Ryan videotaped it for me, Paul played guitar, and I think there is a tambourine involved...don't know if that is on the video or not...Michael Shaffor then later ripped and edited the video for me in Nashville, Tennessee.

It is being reworked for a more polished version using percussion, bass, guitar and voice...but the original version is like listening to a nerve being severed slowly in an open wound...maybe that version should be up here...in any event...here are the words to the song. It's hypnotically sung, each phrase like deep breath blown into the sea.

Lawnchair*

I look toward constellations
for signs I won't receive.
Plastic lawnchair, amphetamines-
the pain just will not ease.

Alone I speak-


he listens,


yet answers none of these-
she can't help me either,
the cat just follows me.

I need her more than ever,


her rhythm in my life-


turning my mind sideways
drowning in her light.

I love you now forever.

Please just be with me.

I have no wealth,
just passion,
and this bruised set of knees...

I look toward constellations,
for signs I won't receive-
plastic lawnchair, amphetamines...
the pain just will not ease...

(humming)

The cat just follows me...

Oh my God what's next...

**Please listen to the version on the band's web site. It's more valuable when accompanied by sound.

Ode to the Floobian Master

Ode to the Floobian Master

First we met,
you shook from others,
in calm awareness,
you found my buttons.

Turned, pushed, prodded
unclean,
your past flew through you
and onto me.

I smiled, at ease...
it wasn't me. You never knew me,
when I set you free.

Frustrating maybe, enduring indeed,
you wanted the edited
version of me-

punch listed phrases,
programming me-
clipped, agreeable,
arranged to please...

Never not once,
did ever you see-
as I wrapped my arms,
you began to flee-

Irritated and restless,
down to my knees,
I gave you away
just so...I could breathe.

Weak Hand (a song)*

Weak Hand

Anticipate among the dunes,
amplified...the mirrored moon,
you gathered stones, I saw my life...
change forever one more time.

Winter 2007, Waves (poem)

Waves

Sometimes I am there,
hair standing on end, there...
In the moment
the breath of life swims in me
desires, swells, expands and lightens.

Ascend or be crushed-

searching the folds of the universe,
speaking with God,
warm wet and wandering-

through fiery alabaster skin.

sometimes head above water is all I need...
sometimes the thrill is just escaping the crest...
sometimes the thrill is having the weight of the wave take you

throw you
mame you
force you into foreign waters

fighting for your life-
you appreciate every breath.

Lyrics from the 2nd Album, EP.

La Chupa Alma*several versions recorded, written...this is the version on our acoustic EP. **by our, I mean my former band and myself** we are either in hiatus...or I will rise again with a new voice in a new capacity. Stay tuned.

They never mention genocide on the 4th of July,
there is no holiday for the trail of tears,
there is no excuse for spreading fear.

There is no making sense of this,
a means to an end.

We've got weapons tearing flesh-
from your children!
Should I unload my ink?
To write your wrong?
Or should I unload my clip?
And kill you all?

Many brilliant minds collide-
to fabricate bombs.
Should I love my brothers?
One and all?

So many cultures fell,
in the hand of your God.

Is this why Jesus died?
In sacrifice?

Oracle-
Disguised by design,
he will walk among the thieves.

We'll invite him in.

Scribes shake, unnerved in their skin...
submit they turn away.

Sun rise-
the waves of blood subside.

The time will come for you to choose,
freedom to all or wealth for you,
this marbles breath or your success,
in vanity and governance.

Once you feel these words unleash,
you've seen it all, you're free to leave.

Once again you'll fail to see,-ignore the signs
enjoy your feast! The poisoned food will make you weak.

The tribes will join again to seek
peace among the sky and sea,
she'll cleanse herself again and again,
and thow you from the throne of men....

So watch your back, beware the weak,
ignore the signs, enjoy your feast...
ignore the signs, enjoy your feast...

Early versions of old songs, from theJournal.

early versions of old songs

Stillwell-*november '04

I've seen the machine-
how it mames everything...
twists everyone,
and you have said...
nearly everything
to lead me into you
and out of my skin

Virgil*((sometime in November, 2004))

For all we know,
they may see
through this dream
how we break-
then mend
the seam

Why won't you save me?
The time has come.
Unwashed, naked...
heading home.

I just can't handle
all the pain
I saw along the way.

No ones eyes met,
they all felt so...

Chorus:
We must climb further
through this dream
into our lies
and self conceit

At the moment,
vision clear-
cold-
content
but no one near-
to blur the lines-
spawn or question
this reflection.

Nova

Nova

This song was performed last night at the Riptide. The lyrics are pretty much done. It can be heard in it's original context soon on www.myspace.com/kameha
The first time it was done, the lyrics were different and unfinished. This is what was sung last night. It was written near the end of a relationship with a girl as my father was dying this spring. It sounds pretty good live, we were complimented by friend on the delivery at the bar last night, and our friends are pretty straight up with us...it's how we learn and improve.

Thanks to the friends in attendance.


Say you'll be with me again...
when the morning comes,
knuckles white, my face is red,
now I...have become
a snake so weak, shedding my skin
I'm an open wound.

(refrain when sung*)
Floatin' through on Haight,
feelin' all kinda strange,
I've been crippled by the maze,
now I'm lost in the folds of a cave...
while my kindness digs my grave...
but yeah I'm down to stay...
become one with the sun.

Desire tears my vision numb,
yet the walk still remains.
A few more blocks, I hit the beach,
will my moon be awake?
Hunger persists, yet the salt restores,
now I'm back in the maze.