Easy like Sunday morning…

There’s something in the air on Sunday mornings… Everyone is like laidback luke… The sunny ass morning lacks the stressed out feeling of a weekday… and the day goes by as slow as it does for someone stoned to the bone…



For a second in the early morning
Between sips of coffee and cigarette smoke,
Flashbacks that used to burn my eyes grow dimmer, and dimmer
I feel the boredom,
Turning my coffee into a gray tap
Turning my cigarette into a bundle of wire
Dancing in my mouth with each drag.
Making random bruises and scratches
Till it bleeds into my cup
And the fairies are drenched in blood.
The lantern that feeds me light explodes
Shards of glass mixed with halos
They pierce of my eyes and choke me softly.
My brains drip onto my clothes,
To add some color
It reminds me of the flowers I had.
Clouds circle me,
Infected with vultures and little gold fish
They beckon me, to the street with red lights.
Where bedrooms are cages
And innocence laid to rest in a small rubber tube
It was the color of the moon
We all turned the color of the moon.


Beverly Hills 9021-Ho!

i cant get my head right
it once adorned tight curls with a crooked lil part
now it only appears as a bolt of light
that burns brightly across my heart
hypnotized it holds my focus & keeps my eyes
glazed over in a hopeless glossy gaze
crystallized carat sized diamonds
cut deep, racing down my face

Seven Bridges Road

“In the beginning all was darkness.Desperado was there not and neither was there Hotel California.

He who would sing that was called Glenn did journey hence from his home in the city of automobiles that was called Detroit to seek fortune as a minstrel.

The master of the band wherein Glenn did play and sing did ask “Who amongst you doth know of a minstrel who can strike upon drums and keep the beat? If any of you knoweth of such a man bring him before me that he may audition.”

Glenn did know of such a man who could beat upon drums and sing and he was called Don, and he went unto Don and said “Wouldst thou come hence and beat upon drums and sing for our master that he may give you employment?”

And Don did and it was good.

And it came to pass that Glenn and Don did seek out those who played the lute and other instruments and they were known to all who followed them as The Eagles, and their music was much admired and they were rewarded with great riches and did begat in abundance with maidens (and they who had once been maidens) with great joy, and they did partake of divers substances that did make Myrrh appear as that with which a child would play. And so much of it as they could remember was good.

Then a great musical famine and darkness fell upon the land and it was called a “fourteen year vacation” and it was bad. There was verily much moaning and wailing amongst the followers of The Eagles and it came to pass that Hell did freeze over.

And verily did The Eagles honour their covenant and they did get over it…

And in the third year after the year in which Hell had frozen over and they that were called The Eagles had gotten over it, did they hear a voice crying out in the wilderness, and the voice did say –

‘All your base are belong to us!’ “

Eric Clapton is one of the best guitarists on our planet. Mark Knopfler is pretty damn good too. Phil Collins is a great drummer, singer and producer. Nathan East can play bass to die for. Any of them could surround themselves with musicians and create a formidable band. The greatness of The Eagles is that the sum is far greater than total the parts.

If Don Henley and Glenn Frey are supposed to be the brains of the band then these two are its balls! Joe Walsh and Don Felder add a depth of playing to the music that no other Eagles guitarists could, and they seem to really enjoy being Eagles!

Recently Don Felder left the band, so we’ll have to see what changes in line-up and material come along as a result of losing Don. For me the band has lost a slab of genius.