groove 3

groove 3

rp: instrumental programming



famous quotes:

"I can't wait to get Reason so I can show you how it's done" ~Brian Hartman


until then
peace & reason

r

art is...

groove 2

rp: instrumental programming



"Art is a selective re-creation of reality according to an artist's metaphysical value-judgments. An artist recreates those aspects of reality which represent his fundamental view of man's nature." (Marcel Proust)

"Every child is an artist. The problem is how to remain an artist once he grows up. ... The artist is a receptacle for the emotions that come from all over the place: from the sky, from the earth, from a scrap of paper, from a passing shape, from a spider's web. ... The purpose of art is washing the dust of daily life off our souls. ... We all know that art is not truth. Art is a lie that makes us realize the truth. ... From the moment that art ceases to be food that feeds the best minds, the artist can use his talents to perform all the tricks of the intellectual charlatan. Most people can today no longer expect to receive consolation and exaltation from art. The 'refined,' the rich, the professional 'do-nothings', the distillers of quintessence desire only the peculiar, the sensational, the eccentric, the scandalous in today's art. I myself, since the advent of Cubism, have fed these fellows what they wanted and satisfied these critics with all the ridiculous ideas that have passed through my mind. The less they understood them, the more they admired me. Through amusing myself with all these absurd farces, I became celebrated, and very rapidly. For a painter, celebrity means sales and consequent affluence. Today, as you know, I am celebrated, I am rich. But when I am alone, I do not have the effrontery to consider myself an artist at all, not in the grand old meaning of the word: Giotto, Titian, Rembrandt, Goya were great painters. I am only a public clown - a mountebank. I have understood my time and have exploited the imbecility, the vanity, the greed of my contemporaries. It is a bitter confession, this confession of mine, more painful than it may seem. But at least and at last it does have the merit of being honest." (Pablo Picasso)

"every media of human expression that conveys spiritual truth" (Rodger Pegues)

moonlight sonata

Moonlight Sonata

rp: instrumental programming

eternal love

silent prayer

rp: instrumental programming


© 2007 peguesmusic




I ask for humility, Oh God
God of everything
vanity and self love consumes
the seed of your love that is within me
because I see the world through
the sight of my own eyes
in mono sight it looks forward
and cannot see backward into my own head
a cavernous shell of self-doubt and illusion
this is why I seek to know myself
through me, through words,
images and sounds

am I imagining you
only to wake up
one day
somewhere else
dreaming you
reading this
so I pray
to the unseen God
and I have given all my hopes
up to Him/Her

even in my vanity I imagine my death
the friends and those that even imagined my love
the words of these mourners
will the words of flattery
measure up to a life time
will the mourning tears show a love for the longing
of my company
how can they
as I sit alone in my house
and the phone is still
and the door is closed
no one has called
in life
why will they cry in
death

will they cry because my departure
quickens the pace of their own demise
death as an endless line to a door to a place
where people go in
but no one comes out
this is the fear I take to a funeral service
whether I knew or really knew the dearly departed or not
I know that my time is coming and the
ceremonial dumping of my earthly remains will follow
and everyone will go home and watch tv
and wake up the next morning and go to work
and my life, my work , my accomplishments,
all that I am
will be forgotten
if I really want to make a difference
I need to touch the world
so that the imprint of my sacraficial devotion
is more than a memory
let it be
an eternal touch
an eternal prayer
an eternal voice
an eternal love

the legacy

the legacy
that is my journey
from child to man
from man to spirit
from spirit to master
is marked with death
along the road
the sign posts
and limitless speeds
in all directions
and dimensions
screaming horn talk
beating snares
sighing blue
crying ivory tears
breathing
the heart of the purest truth
bleeding
this blood soaked mantle
dripping pain
swung on trees
and hung from lamp post
these Jim Crow darlings
sipping the Massahs brandy
in bow ties
with shiny faces
oiled with fatback greased
limp curls fried with iron hot combs
singing white teeth
hearing Mr Charlie
yearning for self love
the respect of a Man
and the freedom of a soul
if I could have been there
and now
if I could have been now
skinny ties and labels
v-shaped blackness
in black and white
naive europeans in facistnation
of negrophilia
these layers
mounting up like eagles
flying as the wind
falling like white hooded sheets on
xylophonic melodic minors
and whole tone absolutisms
this Coltrane vector
in perfect geometric
silence
born as life from
modal Indian ragas
and holy occidental meditations
in worship
and rapture
as negro spirits
these sounds
are now
my own