Am I crazy? Of course. My computer finally let me access some mail wherein I found a tweet message with the url to this great up beat song by this young guy, Aldrey, with a wonderful voice. Listen to the song and you’ll understand why I’m asking you to share it widely as quickly as possible before 2014 kicks 2013 out the door at midnight. Right now the listens on the tubes of you are at 39, 124. With some serious paying of the joy sound forward by playing, I know we can push it to 80,000. Yes, we can. Let’s play the share anyway you can game starting now! Dance, sing and smile with Aldrey and friends–now. 🙂 Let’s have some fun. Come on– Connect!
In part to prove I still have a sense of humor, such as it may be, I offer some theatre and refreshments for your enjoyment. Perhaps some of you will find Amy Goodman’s interview with Peter Schumann, founder of the Bread and Puppet Theater, as delightful as I did. Or not. Schumann’s references to his own bread baking reminded me of poems I wrote for brulionmann as a result of his complaints about the state of bread–and cream– so it seemed like a great combo read meal deal.
menu:
bread poem
Band music for The Shatter
interview in three parts
short puppet clip
long variety show
cream poem
bon appetit!
)*i*(
i——i
“crisis bread”
“no money for a bread, we call that ”crisis” ~ brulionman
*
world wide tragedy
is bread
state of bread = bitch fest
gimme some goddamn real pita,
hell, some hemp too
a boatload of naan and a frying pan, please!
a plate of roti
crisp, crunchy Italian
I’ll even take a loaf of stinky sourdough
anything but this damn white mish mash hash gumshoe shit
cornbread? really? wtf are you trying to pull on me?
bring on the challah,brioche, lavash
toss some tortillas and frybread drill team style
I’ll sell my soul for a true French baguette
a full-bodied Polish rye with some style
German pumpernickel with pump not pap
throw a roll at the wall and watch the plaster fall
What kind of world do you want to live in? Hold that question in your mind for a time.
While searching for some up to date information regarding a particular event, The Future Generations Ride, I came across a great deal currently online in social media venues regarding very serious issue raising events of the past. While sorting through the information overload I discovered a documentary film in the works, Fractured Land.Then, for this post, I decided to switch gears to the present and the future because we are in the here and now. What we do, all of us, has ramifications for the future, our future and the future of life on Earth. Earth has not always been as we know it–full of automobiles, grocery stores, shopping centers offering all sorts of techie toys, synthetic clothing, and fast food. Contrary to the commercials on the small screen, life has not always revolved around purple pills, phones and plasma screen televisions offering surround sound and high-definition imaging.
What I haven’t quite figured out yet is, why we, as in a great many of us humans, not all of us, but enough of us to make an intensely negative impact on our habitat, have chosen to do so. Why live like self-destructive maniacs when the Earth offers –offered– everything we need to survive as a species? If you’ve got a perfect environment to live in, why go around destroying it? Often the answer is profit/money. Okay–but consider this, money in any form only has value because someone attributes value to it. Paper money has no value in and of itself. It only has value within the context that created it. (No, I’m not going to get into a hashing out of the federal reserve concepts and issues thereof. That’s not what this post s about.) In contrast, water has value in and of itself because it is necessary for life. Necessary. Living things require water in order to live. We don’t require money or gold bars in order to function as living creatures. Yes, we are indeed creatures, bio-chemical entities, just like the rest of the wonderful species on planet Earth. If the adherents to the mainstream concept of living well–as in rich according to the specs of Wall Street and the World Bank–how do they propose to live at all when the water, air and land become too toxic to support humans? How does that work? It doesn’t. That’s basic life science, not my opinion.
Caleb Behn knows this–and as you’re well aware, he’s not alone.
A young First Nations law student and emerging leader from northeast BC, epicenter of some of the worlds largest fracking operations, tries to reconcile the fractures within himself, his community and the world around him – blending modern tools of the law with ancient wisdom.
Directed and Produced by Fiona Rayher and Damien Gillis
Executive Producers: Daniel Conrad and Mark Achbar
Music by Edo Van Breemen
Digital Strategist & Community Manager – Hilary Henegar
For more information about the film’s issues, petitions, newsletter and other items of interest such as:
Join us Jan 9 for a live video chat on #IdleNoMore
Fractured Land filmmaker Damien Gillis moderates a lively discussion among a diverse panel of activists, industry experts and leaders from around Canada.
The topic of the conversation will centre on how the Idle No More movement can serve as a bridge toward empoweringnative and non-native people to advocate for more sustainable, equitable energy development.
“They’re Using The Water To Fracture The Bones Of Mother Earth.” — Caleb Behn
Award Winning Fractured Land Documentary Featuring Naomi Klein, MP Thomas Mulcair, Josh Fox, Maude Barlow, Bill McKibben, Wade Davis, Lillian Moyer, Terri Brown, Oscar Dennis and other powerful voices. ‘ “Fractured Land tells the story of Caleb Behn, an inspiring, young First Nations law student from northeast BC, working to defend his peoples’ land from some of the most intense industrial activity in the world.
Caleb is Eh-Cho Dene and Dunne Za/Cree from Treaty 8 country, the front lines for Canada’s biggest natural gas fracking operations. The swift proliferation of fracking, a controversial method of extracting natural gas, has had profound consequences for the water and the ability for his people to practice their traditional way of life.
Having recently finished law school, Caleb is among the first University of Victoria Law students granted the Concentration in Environmental Law and Sustainability. Prior to law school, he was the Oil & Gas Officer for the West Moberly First Nations and a Lands Manager for the Saulteau First Nations.
The film follows Caleb to places of largely unseen beauty from his traditional territories, where he’s fished and hunted moose his whole life, to Maori lands in New Zealand, where he sought to learn how Indigenous law could be blended with the current legal system in order to protect our sacred ecosystems.” Scheduled for release 2014 Spring Festival.
Never know what you’ll discover when you start connecting dots and surfing the energy lines in cyber-space. First I caught the photos on Supporting South Dakota Reservations Facebook page featuring the 38 Memorial Riders, then while exploring the latest entries I discovered the information on Fractured Land and then, and then. I think you get the idea.
It’s THAT time of year: The holy time for many in many different places and languages. It’s a time of year I personally find very troubling and unsettling in many ways. It is perhaps the time of year of the most discordance between reality and what may simply be a willing suspension of disbelief of reality. I’m not sure what to make of it even after all my time spent on this planet in this life. This is not a new state of questioning mental affairs for moi. It’s like a very well-worn pair of dress shoes that still are very uncomfortable. Much is done in love and caring in this time of year. Much is also done in violence and uncaring at this time and the rest of the year. There does not seem to be a balance as far as I can tell. Hence. I will not claim or praise that some things like peace, goodwill and love towards others exists when it clearly does not at large. A state of global affairs which is possibly due to lack of will. Or perhaps its lack is due to flawed human nature. I’m not sure. I do know there is not peace on earth, nor is there enough good will among men and women to make it so. I wish there was. Perhaps one day there will be. I wish it was already. Peace to you and yours.
namaste
ewa
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“Ave Maria”, performed by Natalie Dessay, The London Symphony Orchestra.
A story inspired by a shoe-doll displayed in Childhood Museum, Edinburgh. This short film shows a touching story about a young girl and her father in a poverty, London, 1910s. Qian Shi’s BA Animation graduation film. The Best Student Film of BAF08. MX Award at TAF2010 (Tokyo Anime Fair 2010).
“The Museum of Childhood Edinburgh has plentiful collections of dolls, toys, and other remnants of youth. On a visit there 2005, I found an old doll made from a shoe. It was not very remarkable compared with the other beautiful dolls on display, but it is still very eye-catching. The introduction reads: Doll made from an old shoe that belonged to a poor child from the London slums in 1905.
I couldn’t help imagining the little girl who could barely afford a pair of shoes taking comfort in this lovely shoe-doll friend who accompanies her sweetest dreams. The shoe-doll became a symbol to me of beloved and colourful childhood.
I decided I wanted to tell a story of this little shoe-doll.”
Today is officially the first day of winter. At the Falls of the Ohio, the Ohio River is up due to the heavy rain producing thunderstorms that went through our region a couple of days a go. The high water has me walking the edge of the river with anticipation for signs of anything new. Today I find a story to share with you. While the winter solstice has passed, it also that Christmas/Holiday Season time again that seems to be getting longer and weirder with each passing year. As proof, I offer this variation of the beloved Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer, classic Christmas television special that so many of us have enjoyed since childhood. This tale from a slightly different reality is set at the Falls of the Ohio State Park in Clarksville, Indiana and photographed on site using objects found within the park. Our tale begins at the…
Facebook does indeed have merit as an information source when such insightful pieces comes through the news feed. Bill Moyers’ site shared this online via What Matters Today http://billmoyers.com/2013/03/28/wealth-not-culpability-shapes-outcomes-in-court/ If you’re not sure why you should take the time to listen to Bryan Stevenson, please take a chance and listen for a few minutes before moving on. Give this a chance because Stevenson is good, really good, and well worth twenty-four minutes of your time.
Can’t we create a better world for everyone?
There’s much more on important issues from poverty, prisons, to Keystone XL on Moyers and Comapny http://billmoyers.com/
In 2012, Wisconsin authorized the first state hunt of gray wolves. Wisconsin’s interest in wolf depredation is legitimate: the growth in wolf population has exponentially increased human-wolf conflicts and state expense. Yet, Wisconsin shares these wolves; 83 percent of gray wolves reside on Ojibwe reservations or on territory ceded by the Ojibwe, where the Tribes still have resource rights. The Tribes vehemently oppose the wolf hunt. The Ojibwe maintain a strong cultural kinship with wolves and have traditionally prohibited wolf hunting. The Tribes named wolves a “tribally protected species,” asserting a right to protect all the wolves shared with Wisconsin. Historically, the Tribes and the State cooperatively managed shared resources. However, the State initiated the wolf hunt despite tribal protestations, instigating the…
Lily stood at the gas stove waiting for the water to boil for tea. Outside the kitchen window the sky was grey but cloud and snow free as it had been for the last two days. Listening to the local radio report that several main transportation routes were now open and nearly a third of the mainline buses were running somewhat regularly through and in Falls, she wondered how long it would be before Sarge took his leave of her and the Flats and returned to his home in the freight district. Sooner or later there’d be trucks arriving at the freight docks and, as she understood his description of the location, his place on the second floor of a converted warehouse was only a five-minute walk from work. The college was reopening in three days for daytime classes. Her own regular daily schedule would soon resume. Life in Falls was on the verge of returning to its usual urban ebb and flow after several weeks of extreme weather conditions and a number of events involving fatalities as a result. Lily was not looking forward to a return to the usual scheme of things in Falls, the Flats or most especially in her private life. Having never been other than completely candid with herself, she didn’t have any problems figuring out why. The reason was as direct and unpretentious as the man she didn’t want disappearing from her apartment and daily life. When Sarge departed for his home in the freight district, there would be no more dancing at all hours of the day and night; no more off the cuff conversations about books and personal mysteries; no more Funny Man spreading around home people land scents everywhere he went because he liked them; and a host of all the other no mores of things that were currently a direct result of his presence in her personal space; including the fact that there would be no more human heater quietly warming up the space between the down quilt and flannel cotton sheets night after night, a something which made her home people vibes happily hum with contentment.
Being well attuned to her inner self, Lily knew her emotions concerning Sarge had come a long way from unexpectedly enjoying his company at the theatre and hoping he’d feel the same enough to want to meet again. She’d taken a giant leap forward simply as a result of his behavior regarding the taxi cab and everything up to and including sharing her down quilt. Sarge presuming nothing and making no demands upon her person had gone a long way with her from the start. Living in close quarters for the last few weeks a relationship had developed to a degree between them that Lily knew from past experiences under normal circumstance would have required at least six months of concentrated effort on her part to build. She was also painfully aware of the reasons for the failures of her previous serious relationships, even if they didn’t all quite make sense to her. Personal incompatibilities were one thing, cultural incompatibilities were another and double standard gender behavior expectations yet another; all, with a few unpleasant surprise of other sorts, had quite effectively motivated her to call a halt to engaging in any relationship for nearly two years until she got a firmer handle on the cultural mentalities at play in what for her was a very serious hunt for a suitable life partner. In her own culture she’d have been settled with a mate years ago. With good health and a little luck, she’d have been a mother at least twice by her current age. She’d known this entire field of the life game had changed for her prior to even arriving in Falls. Awareness of the change had been a large factor in agreeing to travel this path into unknown geographical and cultural landscapes. Quite simply, there was no one of a suitable age remaining for a life partner even by sheer default. Her choices had seemed clear enough at the time: remain with her rapidly dwindling cultural group until they all passed on or venture into another world and take her chances making a life for herself with the option of finding someone suitable to share it with. She’d chosen this adventure after playing with the numbers of probability in her head for several days. Afterwards she’d simply said to Priest and Gran that she thought it would be fun looking for a needle in a haystack, even though she had no idea whatsoever what a haystack really was. But she was well acquainted with several bone and metal needles and thought that finding one ought to be easy enough even in a very messy place with some patience and persistence. Since then she’d learned about real haystacks, a few things about men, and women, in this culture and a great deal about herself while keeping her senses on red alert for what had become a very elusive needle indeed.
Though she’d not admitted or discussed with Rosa or Esther, her two closest friends, anything regarding her still evolving emotions concerning the man keeping her company in her apartment, and very little regarding her personal views of him, she’d been keeping up a steady discourse with herself and her home people vibes all along. A few times she’d given serious consideration to discussing Sarge with Anton, but she’d decided against that knowing full well just close he was with Esther and that the only way to keep him from sharing something with his wife was to either not tell him the information at all, or to have it be something he considered so negative that he’d not want to share it of his own accord in order to not upset Esther unless it was absolutely necessary to do so. In addition, there was the matter of his current notions of proper masculine behavior that had inadvertently created issues for her with other men while trying to be helpful. Though in hindsight, those issues had probably kept her from wasting more time and effort on the wrong men.
Lily sighed, glanced at the repair request list and poked her home people vibes into stirring. Gran, I’m way past liking his smile. I’m to the point of knowing I’ll miss not seeing it when he’s not around. For starters, I feel good knowing he’s coming back here after he goes off to fix something for someone in the Flats and that he’ll be here when I come back from doing something of my own. I’m not sure exactly how he’d deal with caribou, but he’s good at keeping the water, heat and electricity running here. That counts for a lot in this crazy place. He gets along with Rosa’s kids, even Marianna. You know what a terror she can be. He likes being around them. I don’t have to explain to you why that’s a big relief. I sure wish I’d asked Priest a lot more questions about guys from where he came from. But, Priest being Priest that might not have been much use where I am now. This one though, I can almost talk with him like I could talk with Priest. He’s curious and smart in ways Priest would understand better than you because of the books. There’s not much point in talking about having fun with him, we both know having fun with these guys doesn’t always mean what we think it does. So far though, he hasn’t tried to push me in a corner because of it. Not once. I don’t want to jump to any conclusions about that yet though.
There’s something about him though that gets women’s attention. It’s something like the attraction John has as a musician. With Sarge though, it’s something else. Obviously, because he’s not a musician, at least not as far as I know. But there’s something I can’t put into words yet. No, it’s not like me being attracted to him. If it was, I’d understand it already. Esther has noticed it too. It makes her watch him with her hard eyes when there’s a potluck and lots of people around. I think she’s waiting for him to do something. Whatever it is, he hasn’t done it yet. I know she’d tell me right off if he had. It’s as if she’s holding her breath. She likes him. I know she does by the way she talks with him. That’s a good sign. Esther doesn’t like everyone. She’ll be very polite to people she doesn’t like and they’ll never know she doesn’t like them unless she says so to their face. I’m sure she’s not doing that with Sarge. I’ve tried to get her to talk about it, but her eyes go hard then and she shakes her head and won’t say what’s on her mind. Rosa just says it’s not what the women do to try to get his attention that’s important, it’s what he’s not doing in return that matters. As long as he’s “not chasing the tails” as she says, there’s not a problem. My best guess at this point is that this has to do with their notions about sex in some way. That might be my ideas and theirs about that little book influencing my thoughts though.
Rosa and I have gone through the copy she made of it a couple more times. Now I know the handwriting isn’t his. Anton says the book isn’t Sarge’s and I believe him. Anton knows lying would hurt me more than whatever the truth is about why he has that book with all those women’s names and numbers in it. Oh yeah, he and Anton seem to be becoming good friends. That’s a first. I mean they actually spend time together talking about books and ideas even when they’re not working on someone’s house or doing something else with the rest of the Watch guys. We’ve had a couple of good conversations as a group with Esther joining in too. Priest would consider this a good sign, I think.
I should tell you, Gran, that not too many people manage to get past what Anton calls his “ghost life” in order to feel really comfortable with him. I think that’s because they can sense he is dangerous if he’s provoked and they don’t want to take a chance on provoking him. Sarge isn’t afraid of Anton. I can see Anton likes that he isn’t. Hmm. Yes, it’s clear to me that Sarge isn’t afraid because he is a dangerous man too. It’s like them each being dangerous cancels out either of them being scared of the other. It’s odd thinking of Sarge as being dangerous though. He never behaves in ways that bring it to my attention or anyone else’s for that matter. When he’s with the Watch guys he doesn’t act threatening or intimidating like many of the street guys do. He doesn’t seem to have anything to prove in that way. Maybe it’s because he’s already proved it with other men and the others know this somehow? I wonder if they can smell it? Can I smell it? Hmm. Yes, I think I do, Gran. Oh, I understand what you mean. I can be dangerous too. Yes, I can. It’s like this, Gran, Sarge reminds me of a polar bear who knows exactly how big and strong he is and that he won’t ever go hungry because he’s hunted seals so many times he’s got absolute confidence in his ability to get one whenever he wants to eat. I know, I know, men and bears are not the same creatures. Like I said, I sure wish I’d grilled Priest about guys.
Where does that put things? That’s exactly what I’m wondering. I don’t want him to go, but I don’t know if he wants to stay. I mean, I don’t know if he’d want to stay for the same reasons I don’t want him to leave. For all I know for sure, he’s just into fixing things, like Ricardo. He never says no to anyone who asks for his help. Lily stared at the list. You’re right I’ve got to say more than simply drop vague hints in order to find out what he’s thinking. Let’s take a look at this list of his and see what comes to mind. Feel free to help out.
The water boiled. Lily spooned loose orange blossom tea into the teapot then filled it with the water. While it steeped she walked over to the fridge and read the list of home repair requests that Sarge had prioritized as his own from the main list over in the Info Hub. Based on what she’d learned about how he worked on his own, she calculated that there was a good solid week’s worth of work on this list alone with plenty more on the main list. She stood tapping her fingers on the paper and wondering how he intended to do all this work and return to his full-time job at the docks at about the same time. Is he planning on not doing anything else but working constantly with a few hours sleep thrown in whenever possible between night shifts on the freight docks and day shifts making house repairs in the Flats? Why on earth would he do that? Or, maybe he isn’t planning on leaving as completely as I thought he would? Maybe he plans on sticking around at least long enough to work his way through the list? As if on cue, the apartment door opened and Sarge came through it with a wave and a very happy to find her at home smile greeting before sitting down and removing his boots out of her sight. “Hi, Lily.”
Consider this a fully non-linear intuitive selection based solely upon very subjective personal engagement. Each piece in its own way connects to dwelling in, between and beyond in some fashion. I’ve decided not to elaborate or comment on these in order to leave it open for your ears and eyes. Much thanks to Simon for lending his poem Turned, Gone On to this Musical Theme posting.
Wikipedia: 2013 Female Artist of the Year SiriusXM Indies Awards[7
Cold Specks is a band led by Al Spx, the pseudonym of a Canadian singer-songwriter based in London, England.[1] Her musical style has been described as doom soul and shows the influence of American deep south gospel with a strong goth streak.[2] She signed with Mute Records at the beginning of 2012.
We fell from a dying tree
We wait for it to leave
I wanna be, I wanna be
Leave ashes for borrowed instruments and borrowed hearts
We will pass them on to every saint and dead lover
I have my God so give me my ghosts
Sons and daughters,
may you kill what my blind heart could not
Sons and daughters,
may you kill what my blind heart could not
Sons and daughters,
may you kill
I saw your grandfather’s death on the news
Remembered when you took me to your room
You put your hand over your chest
Swore that the fire would rage
Whoa I…
I put my hand over my chest, sons and daughters
I put my hand over my chest, sons and daughters
I put my hand over my chest, sons and daughters
Swore that the fire would rage
Yeah, you know better ways to fall
Yeah, you know better ways to fall
You know better ways to fall
You knock me down, knock me down
Put my cold hand over my cold heart
Turn the fire and die whoa
Turn the fire and die whoa
Turn the fire to die
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The Silence Beneath the Bark ~ le silence sous l’ecore
Stillness now, lost blue and empty silence.
After wracked storm, tearing breath,
Tangled rain. The howling
Has ceased, calm, calm.
Where sun reaches, there
Is hope of a little warmth.
But little warmth in shade,
Little warmth when the face
Turns away from light.
Calm void where you have gone,
Spacious, rested, freed from pain of time.
Naked void where you were,
Are, no longer.
The empty fields,
The stiff sloped horizon,
The days ahead unformed, vast.
These winter roads
Will lead to a surprise of spring,
But not soon, not soon.
Not before the world becomes ragged.
It must become ready, choosing, too,
Letting go what is,
Letting uncertainty bloom.
Too tired to breathe
One last slow, drawn out,
Whispered breath.
The void of skies
Fills slowly with new cloud dreams.
The scoured earth will clothe its scars
In new skins of green life.
The hollows will slowly fill,
The woods, they will be bound in birdsong.
It will become gentle, dancing once more.
But not soon,
Not soon.
“Winter Solstice” composed by Erik Jonghmans
Young & Snyder Productions
Recorded in Ostend Nov. 2010 by the Jazz and Wind Ensemble of “The Royal Band of the Belgian Navy”, conducted by Bjorn Verschoore.
SaxSoprano solo: Erik Jonghmans
Flugel solo: Dirk De Meulemeester
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47whitebuffalo's Blog 
Bread and Puppet Theater + “crisis bread” & “crying cream dreams” = Nourishment
December 27, 2013 at 8:48 pm (art, books, contemplation, creative writing, culture, drama, eating, education, entertainment, environment, ethics, exploring interconnectedness, films, food, history, humor, journalism, life, literary fiction, living, music, people, photography, play, poetry, politics, quests, random, relationships, satire, street art, thinking, Uncategorized, Writing)
Tags: Amy Goodman, art, bread, bread and butter, Bread and Puppet, Bread and Puppet Theater, Bread and Puppet Theatre, commentary, cream, dance, Democracy Now, exploring interconnectedness, fun, history, humor, ideas, interview, life, links, performance art, Peter Schumann, play, poems, poetry, politics, puppets, real cream, satire, social issues, theater, theater art, thinking, Vermont, Yi-Ching
In part to prove I still have a sense of humor, such as it may be, I offer some theatre and refreshments for your enjoyment. Perhaps some of you will find Amy Goodman’s interview with Peter Schumann, founder of the Bread and Puppet Theater, as delightful as I did. Or not. Schumann’s references to his own bread baking reminded me of poems I wrote for brulionmann as a result of his complaints about the state of bread–and cream– so it seemed like a great combo read meal deal.
menu:
bread poem
Band music for The Shatter
interview in three parts
short puppet clip
long variety show
cream poem
bon appetit!
)*i*(
i——i
“crisis bread”
“no money for a bread, we call that ”crisis” ~ brulionman
*
world wide tragedy
is bread
state of bread = bitch fest
gimme some goddamn real pita,
hell, some hemp too
a boatload of naan and a frying pan, please!
a plate of roti
crisp, crunchy Italian
I’ll even take a loaf of stinky sourdough
anything but this damn white mish mash hash gumshoe shit
cornbread? really? wtf are you trying to pull on me?
bring on the challah,brioche, lavash
toss some tortillas and frybread drill team style
I’ll sell my soul for a true French baguette
a full-bodied Polish rye with some style
German pumpernickel with pump not pap
throw a roll at the wall and watch the plaster fall
a crust you peel
soak soup
bathe in butter love
plate scour
gimme some goddamned real bread
Another corporate crime against humanity
wonder
hostess
sara Lee
nature’s pride
pepperidge farm
sunbeam
holsom and all the rest of the plastic bag labels
guilty as charged
baking loaves with out heart
soul-less seeds
bakery murder in the first degree
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http://brulionman.wordpress.com/2013/10/06/sobotniej-cyklozy-napad-saturday-attack-of-cycling/#comments
Some bread and butter from Yi-Ching
http://yichinglin.com/2013/10/09/buttered/
http://yichinglin.com/tag/bread/
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DeeDee Halleck
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Bread and Puppet Theatre ~ Blue Sky Puppet + Mask Dance ~ July 2012
theRedCatRed
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Bread and Puppet Circus and Pageant on Sunday, July 14. 2013
videosphere
“crying cream dreams”
cream? get real, brulionman
brulionman get a cow.
tie it to your bicycle
hand school teats
seriously, get some finger action going
community uprising cream dream
cow eats sun
din din until day done
treat those teats right
milk, cream, butter, cheese
comes one happy cow
squeeze, squirt, squish
get a Guernsey with a babe
fill a bucket
set set set
cream rises, oh hell, yeah
no, no, no to piggy fat!
real cream needs none of that!
flour? does not compute
send that shit down the garbage chute
just the cream if you please
sweet talk some butter
tease the thick from the top
sip sip sip, can’t resist
drop it in a jar
get some bike dance mojo goin’
thirty tic tocs butter glowin’
pushing creamy envelopes
cheesecloth action play
guess what you got coming days
cheese, glorious cheese
get a cow, brulionman, no bull
you want real cream
fingers gonna need some teat pull school
No, I don’t know how to get a cow to ride a bike!
You’re on your own with that, brulionman!
8
http://brulionman.wordpress.com/
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