Two Years..

Almost to the date. Motor and Maxim play an acoustic show at Fais Do Do in Los Angeles. My first and last show with miss Karen Love, for various reasons. We choose our destiny don't we, and instead of being a folk singer with show tunes misgivings I opted for a heavier side of rock n roll.

My Day

I don't really have many that understand the journey
From the bohemian laundromat where we used to rinse our clothes last year on a cool summer night in our bodices after a long hot jam everything flyers written in Spanish people trying to sell for hire their services, somewhere out here in the middle of the desert...

I have many exes. ex Friends, ex Girlfriends, an embittered ex husband confused by the dusty route of life I choose to take, an unpaved path. my heaven my way my pleasure my day.
I choose the life of the traveler, the wanderer the vagabond the madwoman, and it's free, probably free like you will never be.
Sitting behind fear, in a shallow empty world of rules and supposed to be's. It's not for me.

I have a cat who lives out in the wild. what we call the serengetti. the dusty weedy front yard of my house in the valley. I don't have time for manicured lawns or paved walkways, geez I have barely any time to play the guitar as much as I would like these days, and I'm on the road never home anyway.

No one really gets this way. No one understands the freedom of my day. No one can disrobe their material fears for one day.

Oh.... and the new logo...

She Has No Idea How to Make Friends....

Super hot days are coming
lack of funds headed our way
sadness and fear fills my soul
but deep down I know I will continue to grow

She kills me with her constant paranoia about the other's shirking of tasks
It makes me want to walk out fast.
I feel so trapped
I can't wait to run run run the other way

so cynical and critical of how others live their lives
although it is she that is one of the many lost wives

alone in her despair alone because she wont bend or flex
alone because she won't roam
alone
because she has no idea how to make friends
instead just uses them to dump dump dump
all her materialistic typicalities...onto anyone who will listen
and give nothing in return.

Let Go Of This Rope

Seven weeks and counting....I can no longer befriend you
Seven weeks and counting....I can no longer tell you
Things about my life and my path and my soul, well you don't hear me anyway
You're off and running, worried about your own little world
Lack of carbohydrates coursing through your veins...
It can affect your memory they say.
But lack of anything or too much of something all has the same effect.

Dear old lady, I hear you really like me
Isn't it clear to you.... that's what makes me good at what I do.
Altruistic, gentle and kind, but real and smart out for myself too.
You tried to scare me, to insult me, and that was really ugly of you.
If I were weaker, I may have believed you.
And luckily, I am braver than you.

Sure, I worry at night I lose sleep too, but I know I can think greater thoughts
do greater things and ultimately that's what gets me through

Because I am going to take the biggest leap ever, let go of this rope
it ties me down, like a tether
And I apologize in advance, but I don't really feel bad.
Because you chose security you chose death, survival over living....
That's your choice...not mine.

The Very World That Scares You

She walks in stilts and she spits her will

In our faces sweet as silk

At home she cries herself to sleep and basks in guilt

I say it's ok, but I know tomorrow she still won't see it my way

I say it's ok, because lately she's been drunk everyday

Anyway

And if you don't feel truth gripping you at night

at least sometimes throughout the day

and if you can't seem to say the right words

that give the right impression

or wear the right clothes

just live as close to the edge as is possible

without falling off

Is that all you can do?

I can't see the truth when you're blathering in my face

your idiotic lies you tell yourself

all over the place

But oh yes, I can, once I see what you try to do

Unknowingly, unbeknownst to even you

manipulating the world around you 

the very world that scares you

The very world that scares you

I live here too, and I have fears, though none as great as you

Sadness reality grips my soul, your empty sorrows fill your bowl

They stop you dead in your tracks and sever your wings sever your so

I wish you could see, wish you could know

I may appear brave to many this way, I may seem courageous all caution at bay

but it's just that there is nothing to lose

when it comes to happiness and having my way.

A poem....

It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing. 

It doesn’t interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love for your dream for the adventure of being alive. 

It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon... I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow if you have been opened by life’s betrayals or have become shrivelled and closed from fear of further pain. 

I want to know if you can sit with pain mine or your own without moving to hide it orfade it or fix it. 

I want to know if you can be with joy mine or your own if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful be realistic remember the limitations of being human. 

It doesn’t interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself. 

If you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul. 

If you can be faithless and therefore trustworthy. 

I want to know if you can see Beauty even when it is not pretty every day. And if you can source your own life from its presence. 

I want to know if you can live with failure yours and mine and still stand at the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, “Yes.” 

It doesn’t interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair weary and bruised to the bone and do what needs to be done to feed the children. 

It doesn’t interest me who you know or how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the centre of the fire with me and not shrink back. 

It doesn’t interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away. I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments. 

~O.M. Dreamer