#improvisation
Life is a song, I don’t know the words
Why is the downbeat always in thirds
Improvisation, that’s the name of the game
Lip syncing, like I have no shame
It only works if I’m singing along
My words are different, but they’re not wrong
4/03/26
Apr 5
Apr 5, 2026 at 1:38 AM UTC
The Puddle Girl
And her distant journey
Content not to know
Only saying goodbye
Giving in the after
Watching your films roll bye
Prompt in the credits
Absorbed by the swoon
Cherishing her beginning
Amongst the wandering buffoons
Mimes in silent nights
Days aboard flights
Dead pan humorist'
Hunting the obsolete
In her joy to be a round
She had circled and found
We became silent too
Beside the camera clues
Feb 7
Feb 7, 2026 at 10:50 AM UTC
Go for it
no holding back
let the words flow
like winding rivers
that
fill up the widest valleys
allowing a freedom
which bends with every corner
seeking
journeying on
overcoming
and unrelenting
do not pause for thought
just as the current
which never dies
It's merciless drive;
let this be your guide, your wisdom, your anchor.
No edits, no deletions no
second guessing words
just let them fall
from skies
that have tickled
heaven with their puffy clouds
And then you will
find
the answers
that you always
undeniably craved.
Oct 21, 2025
Oct 21, 2025 at 6:47 PM UTC
You wrote a letter, it had to be,
Your merest whim and dearest thought.
I found it clever, you have to see, going
Out on a limb where the true battle’s fought.
We sorely wished and ached to know,
You shared a life, I shared one, too.
The seeds we sow and hope to grow,
‘Till vines cross the boundaries of me,
(And you…)
Forging a future in distant foundries,
Life and love make a space for you.
Our lives, as such, the liminal boundaries,
Our love, of course, the glue.
Jan 1, 2023
Jan 1, 2023 at 1:10 AM UTC
MOVEMENT I (written to be performed on tárogató, accompanied by acoustic guitar)
"The morn rises o'erhead
The baker bakes the daily bread
The people smell the blooming roses
Happiness in smaller doses
The children go off to their school
And think learning is ever so cruel
But they'll wish these days back
Everyone will wish these days back
Glowing rays crown the apartments
It is, in return, dubbed glorious hence
Though the clouds will later darken
And the air will taste of iron"
MOVEMENT II (written to be performed on baritone saxophone)
"Radiant, glowing
Destructive but invisible
The naked eye suffers
The body faulters and wilts
Crime and agony
Pain and suffering
Endless, endless throes of woes
Breaths draw short
The air becomes thin
The water grows darker
Blackness overtakes
This is the realm of Death
Come to take ye
Who dare tempt his fated word.
You, whose body fails
Whose organs rupture and fall apart
I suggest you tell your fellow man
Die screaming
The alternative is far more sinister."
MOVEMENT III (written to be performed on contrabass clarinet, accompanied by prepared electric guitar and bowed cymbals)
"Bloom (wilt)
Grow (die)
Sane (mind)
Must (cry)
...
Decay (decay (decay (decay (decay))))
And a reminder for the future folk:
Bury your dead far beneath."
Oct 1, 2021
Oct 1, 2021 at 2:15 PM UTC
a jack of all trades
hard for me to focus
to choose just one
my body is mashed
here i am
a master of none
movements of chicken broth...
as fresh mac and cheese
noodles attached
by my knowledge and memories
but nothing so oven strong
not baked today
a jack of all trades.
if serious a talent.
if forgotten...
talent turns you aside and whispers to you
just one more time
do you make a decision do you choose?
master of one or master of none
a jack of all trades
getting quite weary
linked to motivation
the esquire in me
knighthood approaches
It's the master within thy
a jack of all trades but the focus in none
master a few or master of some
starting now or never again
master just one
a single mad hatter
to crack just one
time keeps ticking and it'll all fold down
jack of all trades
master of all
Nov 18, 2020
Nov 18, 2020 at 12:55 AM UTC
‘How quaint,’ remarked Mistress Hora as she turned the afternoon on its head, ‘that you would consider time to be a linear construct.’
‘Positively post-historic,’ agreed Master O’Clock, nodding his head in perfect synchrony with the orchestra that played inside his ear. Today was Waltzday (or so he had named it), an interminable reminder that atomic metronomes particularly those of Viennese manufacture were not to be trifled with.
‘Be assured, my dears, that this fancy is a passing one and exists only as a fleeting extemporaneous distraction,’ our Mistress continued. The first year students breathed a collective sigh of relief. ‘Now, I want no clumping, no running ahead, and NO helical improvisation. When yesterday’s fish and chips come wrapped in tomorrow’s newspaper it gives our school a most unfortunate reputation.’ The class chortled as one. ‘Most importantly, please remember to take your pocket guide.’
I reached for my bedraggled copy of _The Theory of Chronometrical Fluidity: Compressed Edition_ and wrung the pages out. I had failed badly at applied clepsydrics and my cousin Widget wasn’t letting me forget it. From behind the glass, I spotted her playing a furtive game of Gregorian and by the look on her face February was winning. I blew her a lemniscate to grab her attention. She scowled, looked up from her losing streak and giggled when she saw me spiralling in her direction. ‘Good luck,’ she spiralled back.
Miss Hora flexed her wrist and glanced at her temporal transponder. ‘You will be marked on cuneiformity, consistency, and rate of continuance. Now be off with you. Tempus fugit!’ With a flick of her bejangled fingers she opened the S.A.N.D. grates. I held my breath and jumped.
Dec 9, 2019
Dec 9, 2019 at 5:03 PM UTC
I stand before you
heaving- begging for your love.
Apathy returns.
-----
In the quiet night
a lonely moon arises,
cold and beautiful.
-----
Bring me home to you.
Harsh light changes me. I want
freedom from the screen.
-----
Your god complex shines.
I wouldn't dare ***** it out.
Like you, I like you.
-----
Nov 12, 2018
Nov 12, 2018 at 9:52 PM UTC
So how might our nation
give more global warming?
Watch your world as to
what is wrong, then they
might not approve. What
is wrong? Such a person
more profound is to judge
awakened consciousness
when he freed no thing
very good. Rather than
events, give more than
the universe. Knowing
versus wants and nurture
the energy. These are
not normal times. Events
are happening like always.
Jul 27, 2017
Jul 27, 2017 at 3:21 AM UTC
All improve, but it
elevates awareness,
intimadation develop,
intimadation helping,
always author contracts.
Excellent elevates
all more. Help excellent,
changes preceded,
preceded next helping,
evolve preceded.
Jul 7, 2017
Jul 7, 2017 at 9:10 AM UTC
A lot of people seem to think
that I would be great at
stand-up.
But improvisation
gives me bad
anxiety.
He also thought that stand-up
was in my best interest;
it isn't.
That must be why he
stood me up last night-
how's that for improv?
So there I was, downtown,
waiting alone, for a guy
that would never show up.
Put on the spot to entertain,
improvisation, you could say,
but I'm not too good at stand-up.
Oct 18, 2015
Oct 18, 2015 at 12:53 PM UTC
Honey, we're carpet tacks and missing strings,
Bits of foil and faded rings.
We're the sticks and the stones
That keep breaking our bones;
Yours, mine, and ours,
Play pretend no more horrors.
I've been stitched up, I've bled
And, God, we're hanging on to this thread
That will snap in an instant as soon as we
Forget what we are.
We are puppets and dolls
Designed for a cause
That not many, so few,
Stop to see in this zoo
Of our nations, our cities,
Our countries, shunning deities,
Never minding what's different;
What's precious to you.
Sons and daughters of the day
Ought to stand up and say
That to live is to die and to die is to save
Ourselves from ridicule and mistrust
And those who would shed dust
On the graves of our fathers, our mothers
Beloved sisters and brothers
Who loved all the differences enough to stand,
To not assault hearts for the sake of their plans.
Cut of denim cloth and old burlap,
All I hear now the pound and the slap
Of our hands as they work to encourage the crowd,
Screaming louder and louder until we're upright and proud.
In the details lies the devil, you know,
And the best way to beat him's not to let fear show.
We are one realm of many, not many realms of few,
So say what you say knowing not all will be like you.
We are puppets and dolls,
Here designed for a cause.
We're carpet tacks and missing strings,
Bits of foil and faded rings.
We're the sticks and the stones
That keep breaking our bones;
Yours, mine, and ours.
Mar 13, 2015
Mar 13, 2015 at 12:20 AM UTC
For anyone who is so inclined:
https://soundcloud.com/apexparadigm/sets/sunrise
Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 11:25 AM UTC
Some thoughts too beautiful to ignore
Once expressed, produce only more
The music so sweet
Takes my helpless feet
Carries me down this path
And all I can do
is laugh
Aug 23, 2014
Aug 23, 2014 at 1:13 PM UTC
*Two performers debating on a quirky time capsule stage
Evaporating the barriers of time with their improv
As the spectators breathe life into their routine with no turmoil*
May 11, 2014
May 11, 2014 at 6:27 PM UTC
All alone in a big room
I could let my voice travel all the way to you
Wish I had the key
To open the door to eternity
And see
If you're next to me
Any way it goes,
I know it's hardly anything I could hope.
Apr 28, 2014
Apr 28, 2014 at 10:19 PM UTC