New Music Update - Weird/Experimental crazy sounds. The Electric Grandfather is providing some of the freshest if not weirdest sounds we have heard in a long time. They claim to be from many places, but our detective work has discovered that most of the early material at least was written and recorded in St. Petersburg, Florida, in the grand tradition of Jack Keruoac, who died just down the road from their recording studio. Who knew that town had more than just old people, then again, the band is called the electric grandfather. We give this one two thumbs up! https://soundcloud.com/the-electric-grandfather

Photography, websites, blogs and more.

My new website is up and running at Philbardi.com give it a look, see what you like.

I also have a new blog that will going public very soon. I got a lot of requests to put together some tutorials and lessons for low light and concert shooting, and so, thus came into existence the photo blog. As soon as it is live, I will link it here.

Thanks again,

PB

feelings outburst

I.
so that we can commune
with each others’ minds.

I know that it’s been asked before,
been talked about through
millions of years of tea and tears...
but I still can’t grasp it
to understand it,
and there seems like no reason
to stop it,
to cease or desist it!

I demand to know the information removed from mind.

what happens at the end,
and why even begin?


II.
Burst forward from my bed,
rather slowly at first,
not quite sure where I’m at…
and then when I realize
my enthusiasm wanes…
the place without answers
has greeted me again.

Donnie Rocks! (Gil Manteras Party Dream)

Death by idea

This is the pit
the very bottom of it,
where my stomach meets
my feet,
and my gut begins to rot.

This is the end.
The part where it smells
and everyone runs.
The tragic conclusion
to years of neglect,
and the obvious consequence
of all that thought.

Mike Clark Trio (just two though)

Confessions of a thinker

Never had an original thought
I didn’t rip from the mind of another.
Ideas trudged through the mud of time,
Gurgitated, Regurgitated –
and then proclaimed as new.
Gather round and listen
to the collective subconscious.

A Sunday walk away...

It’s in the details

Sleeping soundly all night,
I hadn’t noticed how the room had changed.

Adjusted, readjusted, and moved around…
Put back again, and then again
in the same way that it’d been before.

Only now it was different in the most minuscule of ways.

Like the coffee table smelled slightly more like my hair,
though only from the couch;
up close, there was nothing to be noticed.

And the chair with cushions for your arms and your head,
while still composed of the same general characteristics,
no longer seams as comfortable as it did last night.

Other than these small infractions,
there is no proof of anything, I suppose.

Society Overcome with Shame

Too far
removed from the situation
to care.

Almost alone
except for my self,
my conscious,
my morals,
degenerate
Slimy slinky snake-skinned
tongue-twister
running about causing chaos.

America’s mind bent on
saving
everyone from everything,
except God and the salesmen;
while we are under lock and key,
they are free to roam.

So sell your soul,
but not for drugs
buy drugs,
but never for pleasure
sell your vagina,
but not yourself
on your time,
on your property,
in your home,
beware.

Drive by Truckers

Life Lessons

With the knowledge I posses,
And using the tools at my disposal,
I am sad to report,
there is no hope for any of us.

No hope,
Past the task
of being human.
existing until we die.
(expecting all along)
extreme emotions,
punctuated by boredom, giggles,
and the occasional suicide attempt.

Slow motion

Slow motion freak-out,
happened so damn fast.
Had too much time to think,
of the nothing that could help,
or the anything that could save
all of us from screaming
at the nothing in our minds…
so we laughed all night instead.

Never thought I’d miss the heat

It is on days such as today
Gray days
Obituary days
That I think the most
And lose my mind
in these thoughts.

Having to count each breath,
To regain my sense of self,
And not worry about the end.

Wayne

We’re getting towards the end now

Funny how different we are
can be
and continue to be getting.

And I have been told
that some have foreseen
and others are beginning to assume
that we don’t even know
one another anymore.

Perpetual Groove @ Langerado 06'

Something seems Suspiciously Familiar

Again we meet up…
(with her again)
In the middle of nowhere
On a road not familiar
With no one around
for miles each way.

And thoughts bubble up
To their place in the mind
How many times before this…
This had to have happened

For I know her too well
For it to be just this once,
And I could tell
From the get go,
We had met before.

Scents and Scentsations

I am fascinated by the smell
Permeating my epidermis
Some days I think I can smell soup,
Others I’m sure it’s death that’s a wafting.
Usually though, the scent is full of memories,
And I’m somersaulted into an ecstatic trance,
Lasting only long enough to convince me to repeat,
Eyes darting,
Always hoping no ones looking,
As I slowly inhale,
And remember nothing I can distinguish.

Lickety Split

Book Junkie (for R.A.W.)

One
line
at
a
time
he
shoots
for
the
soul
of
the
mind.

Debugging Information

These chemicals in my brain
dripping
oozing
replicating
as natural as me.
Tearing at me
ripping me apart inside,
causing me to die inside
slowly and deliberately.

Dying –
the one function
I can promise to carry out
without fail.

Quickly enough to make
me aware of the whole ordeal,
to stare him in the face
and watch him change,
slowly enough to allow
me to recall
every smile revealed.

I shout from my sleep,
We must expose this foe!

Awake,
this mind of mine –
dragging and screaming
allegations through the mud,
tickling and whispering
obscenities in my ear.
Quietly, though I hear
all that they say:

“This has been a travesty
for all those,
in contact with the facts”

and the end is near.

The Black Crowes Chris Robinson

Chris Robinson

Scientist

I am empowered by the atom
or
my ability to split it.

And you fear me
for my needle precision.

high

howling madly at passing cars,awake by the side of the road.

Cars flying by
The side of the road…
Seem to Shout
“shoe” as forward they go.

To begin,
Using the knowledge you’ve
Acquired
About the desert,
and other assorted dry, hot things,
It should come as no surprise,
That after the cacti and this heat,

I chose,
The side of the road …
A solid chunk of brown sugar sand
That contray to looks,
still tastes like regular old sand
as the only safe place
on this whole concrete planet.

Taste buds defeated,
My mind decides to move on.

Though while advancing…
And to my dismay…
I began graphically illustrating that…
Running from life,
no matter in which direction…
Instantly becomes
harder,
as soon as you’ve begun.

And remembering
that movement requires energy,
I stared at my pedals pleadingly.
Thinking that…
If only I could move these feet,
For even a foot,
I would convince
These questions to quiet.

To stop asking things like…

”How long
can I possibly stand here
wondering just how long
I can possibly stand here. “

Mind made up,
Determined to progress,
I move forward,
While above me,
the heat conspires with the sun,
To draw beads from my head…
effectively targeting and eliminating
every drop of liquid
It could squeeze out
from within.

And now,
My body aching.
Sponged dry after all this time,
I’ve come to realize
the sun overhead
is the only evidence I have
of today’s progression.

Further shocking revelations;
if time trusted calculations
Were correct,
it seemed that only seconds
had actually passed,
and I began fancifully envisioning
that cars would soon
follow.

My mistake,
Failing to envision the part,
Where one of them actually stopped.

Standing,
Sweating…

In only a few minutes,
What felt like long hours
Had passed
In the sky,
Revealing,
Light dwindling away…
I sat on the ground
My book to the sun,
And with no real plan to follow,
began to read… again.

I read until my eyes complained;
Their needed light had quietly gone,
And thus they refused to work anymore.

Blind,
With darkness overhead,
Book somewhere snug
Feet on the sand,
I walked again.

Walked…
only
Because I couldn’t read anymore.

Then,
In weakness,
And considering empathy…
I stopped at daybreak.
Thinking someone would stop.

Time passed,
eyes began to read.

Truthfully,
I took my time spent reading
as an implicit indication,
Being quietly offered,
That apparently,
I was unwanted.

Which resulted in,
my sleeping,
standing up,
on the side of the road,
till the Morning arrived,
when I awoke…
tired but smiling.

Though later,
Still alone,
Smile straightened
I hungrily gorged on sleep.

Predictably though,
My meal was
Only occasionally interrupted by
Those screaming “shoes”…
And I never found a stopper.

With dusk arriving …
And to express my frustration,
I Began
howling madly at passing cars.

And to my surprise,
I’m here,
still awake
on the side of the road.

nye

Air

Upon the first wake up,
Get up,
head outside,
to the crisp meeting
of air on flesh.

And I smile
Realizing
This simulation is real.

inked

2012

strange how a day
that begins with coffee
can end with robots
destroying the world.

Looking up

7:18 p.m.

so much time
in this space
you can
almost
feel them
both collapsing
into a single moment