The Rising Slow

A woman looking out of place To emphasize the encounter I'd rather just forget the face Than struggle to surmount her It would not take her very long To cause a general friction Until my peace was nearly gone And woes had no restriction She's determined not to see How much on the mind she can be So she stays the last to know What brings on the rising slow A timely resource to be tried She couldn't disappear faster While all before me, far and wide Her left behind disaster (Playing.) For a stranger it's a fact She can make a strong impact With her anonymity Sheltering conveniently It lands a blow against my pride A cruel provoking of laughter From this disrupted scene to hide And promise to see me after (Play to end.)
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© 2007, 2019. Words and Music by David Skerkowski. All Rights Reserved.

For You

If I gathered up a field of flowers All your favourites from among to choose Paying no attention to the hours What would be the rationale to use? Could it be a chance at a pleasing prize In my dream, looking at me with pleading eyes? For you I would ascend the highest towers For that's how much of love I've got to lose (Playing.) If I need to cover a vast expanse I believe that the effort is worth the chance For you impossibility empowers A mother lode of love I've got to lose (Playing.)
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Black Hole

Happened to get the message After it had its run All about how I reached the conclusion Of an epic I've not begun Planting the seed for a deed that won't be undone Certainly is misguided Coming from somewhere cold Deep in a pit of hypocrisy Where the fallacy must be told Where the possessions of dreamers get bought and sold Permanent disagreement With what I know I've seen Meant to hide an embarrassing symptom of the obscene Under a screen Better stay on the lookout And careful not to fall When one is expected to pay the whole balance Of a havoc that hits us all No need to see more details thrown to the fire Or to erase the grace of the queenly choir Always the time to climb out of my black hole Only another backward step to my goal
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My Philosophy

I have an enquiry A fair one entirely I see the disparity But I hope it makes it through Is freedom an ocean wide Or more like a place to hide? and does the noise of your TV upset her? The black night upon the sea Is one that belongs to me I traded serenity For a less than stunning view With faces as hard as stone And anguish as bare as bone Where deprivation gets learned to the letter Trying to live in a dying world Where the brave banner would unfurl So impossibly Measure me for the perfect fit But don't you dare to contradict My philosophy There's always an effort spent To listen to some lament And maybe my tragedies Have been more than were my due Experience always pays By how much the moment flays Until you're sorry enough to know better
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Daylight Dilemma

A positive connection An unexpected smile Offered free to a casualty In most unassuming style I've little cause to question The salutary spin But seize on what makes the most of my lot And throw caution to the wind Warm fuzzy phrases of Halcyon days as they fly Shockingly soon to see cornflowers bloom in the rye A pause in the discussion I scramble for a line She's already heard everything i could say At least for the hundredth time Knowingly swayed by the showy parade of the lost Finding the line that the majorette, winding, once crossed Rosy reflections upon the horizon amaze Given to glimmer in new and exuberant ways
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Incubus

There's a harmless looking incubus Trying to corrupt your mind Whose intentions have grown obvious And the malice lurking behind Further testing the treachery of a smile Fangs exposed in a fleeting bid to beguile Though appearing in a female form Never more a cunning disguise As she lounges freely at the dorm Hoping they will never get wise Closing in on the confidence of prey Easy go when you know they won't run away She can stand up in the dazing light Sport a halo held by a wire But the blot I see upon her white Would for no one be a thing to admire Nothing much but to clutch at the open air Aspirations descending to disrepair Linger on in the dim of the setting sun Piercing cries waking sleepers not a one
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Sandy Picture

Now I'm keeping to my diet and drinking lots of red wine. I don't want any criticizing of my life saving red wine. I'd rather be sloshed than dead. It might help people in their seventies to respect me more if they took into account my extra years from being reincarnated. I'm really 20 years older than they are. I'm a reincarnated middle-aged musician from the early 1960's. At the time I was in my forties, but the blond Sandra Dee's in bikinis still wanted me to play my guitar at their beach parties. They'd come to visit my shack on the beach and be frantically greeted by my pet goat Pete, running and jumping up and down the length of the clothesline - to which his collar was firmly affixed by a shiny metal chain. They'd hang around to watch me practice the ukulele. I'd sing to them about how I wanted to knock them out and throw them to the sharks. One thing would lead to another, and, well, you know the story. Gosh, it feels so real that I just know that it must be true.
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Totem Hole

Does everyone like my diet humour, by the way? How about that last line about mucus in the tear ducts? Funny? Original? I think so. Well, I'm just being the same person who grew up alongside eight thousand others in his home town and then played his songs in a city of 2.5 million before he made the mistake of moving to Vancouver in 1995. I'm just being the one person who wrote my thousand and fifty comedy scripts, two hundred poems, and two hundred songs; the one person you've been misled to believe is a hundred different assholes on your lying TV screen. So that woman from the billboard steered clear of my diet humour, did she? Why did she do that? Why didn't she add it to her bullshit stand-up routine so she could be more of a hero to all the show business gangsters? Is she afraid to make jokes about her diet? How fortunate for me. It means I can keep at least a scrap of my original humour out of her greedy fingers. I think it's fair for me to flip out and curse and swear now because it is humanly impossible to handle the stress of continuous assaults on my work and my character any other way. In making you love people who steal my blogs and my music, they make you hate me, and I'm past the point of wanting to win you over after twenty years of this criminal shit. Why do we have men of low character in high places in this stupid world? Are we sure we love our children, bringing them into the clutches of the crime bosses here? Do you really want your child to idolize some prick who plagiarizes and lies and goes to jail or prison? Do you want them to end up like their idols, with writing all over their private parts and memories of punishment so severe they can't acknowledge it in their waking state? Who cares how much the TV lies for them, they'll know they went to prison and they'll know they were punished there. Would you find it acceptable for your child to go to jail for stealing my music or comedy as long as the media hides it from the public? I'm currently reading Thomas Mann's A Man and His Dog. Very good writing. I got through Death in Venice yesterday. Interesting. He wasn't bent, was he? Sheesh, I wonder after reading that. Below I've thinned out my music links a little, in order to show you the hours of my own original good music that help me to keep my brain free of evil manipulations by offering me a selection of songs I can trust. You can trust them too. And you might also notice that a lot of them are already somewhat higher in quality than what the radio wants to play in their place, now that the fraud bands are not allowed to have them anymore. All My Money Arise Assault Bad News Beguiled Bird of Prey Bonkers Brown Lullaby Business Busybody Canopy Chair Cheer Class Close Rendezvous Control Conviction Crybaby Currents Denial Disenchanted Easy Ectomorph Energy Epitomes Everything Fantasies Faraway Places Fishface Flimsy Flounder Fool Fool's Paradise Foothead Forgotten Fortune Free Frenetic Friend in Need Goddess Godspeed Gr. Moose Gran Grumble Hairball Harmony Headlong Heartstrings Heretic Hot Hunted I'll Wait for Your Love Impressions Insidious It's Not You Juice Justice Leg It Up Lifeless Linger Loose Lucky Lech Magic Mayhem Meat Hooks Mischief Mixed Feelings More Sold Out Morning Shorelines Nonchalant Nonplussed Nothing but Ashes Oblivious Ooga Balooga Orbit Orcastra Out from Under Outside Passion Penitence Prone Puzzles Ram Ransom Redemption Redundant Respect Rugged Rules Rusty Sad Anger Sanctuary Satellite Sam Selfish Shambles Simper Size Slings and Arrows Soliloquay Space 2009 Special Spellbound Spoils Stagger Stultified Survival Telepathy Temperance Tenseness Therapy Tinsel Heaven Together Topsy-turvy Tycoon Ugly Unabused Underachiever Uneven Untoward Vanquished Virtue Wallet Wayfarer, the © 2018. Songs by David Skerkowski. All rights reserved.
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Good Mann

Just escaping the snowfall, above, with a little summer 'surfing' music - all the way from the West Coast of Canada. I need to make better videos of most of my songs anyway. I'm keeping to my diet, but I'm not using the lemons as much. My type produces a lot of mucus, but I like my mucus. It shields me from the environment. I only need the lemons when it gets into my tear ducts, which is only maybe about twice a month. I've taken out some stories by Thomas Mann, an author I was steered to from reading Hermann Hesse. I couldn't find Buddenbrooks, the one Hitler banned and burned, but the one I'm reading now is still pretty good. 4:49PM. Having walked back to my east side home on Keefer Street, I'd like to give you some more detail about that comedy offender I spoke of in my recent video post Blight Is My World. The film being advertised looks like a comedy called Isn't It Romantic. The star of this billboard appeared to have been tossed out onto a sidewalk at my feet from a mysterious vehicle on the day after I complained about having to see her face ten times on the way to the library. This usually means that the person was apprehended and punished for offences against my copyright. If you investigate this film, I'm sure you'll find that it was brought to you by the same assholes who brought you the Austin Powers trilogy made out of my blogs. If so, it means that all the most entertaining parts of this film are plagiarized. I never needed anyone else to be amusing, but these comedy creeps depend on me too much. And I'm sick of all the lawbreaking. I don't defend my comedy so I can be a fucking funny comedy star, I'M A MUSICIAN! My writing just happens to reflect my personality and my GOD DAMNED IDENTITY AS A HUMAN BEING! LUCIFER LOVES YOUR SOUL-POISONING COMEDY CRIMES HERE IN VANCOUVER!
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What Offends Fraud Lovers?

Before I get to my title topic, I'd like to state that I'm again nicotine free after eight straight days of no nicotine, not even gum. My friends are amazed. I handle the withdrawal like a nagging pain that never goes away, I just live with it. And I've developed sufficient self-control over my many long periods of non-smoking in the last few years. I also make sure that I am quitting from my will, rather than from necessity. I keep the money for cigarettes in my pocket while I'm quitting. Eight days of no nicotine makes a huge difference in my health. My walks to the library are charged with newfound energy. I accelerate up the stairs like Rocky. As for my video monitor, it sure was well made. It must have landed flat on its front about a hundred times and stayed in one piece. The only way to break it was to kick it in the face with the point of my steel toe shoe, like I did last night. Now I can get back into reading. Now, I've been hearing that one of the twenty-four songs I recently registered and listed in a YouTube video has offended them. I think I know the song and why it offends them. Fraud lovers love lies and are deeply offended by truth. The more truth contradicts their lies, the more it offends them. This song they've uglied up with their cowardly comments I can't even see or respond to, this was one of the few tracks I didn't post to YouTube. It therefore escaped them taking it and giving it to a rich rock star, or one of their friends, to make money from on the radio. They're offended that they weren't able to get paid for committing fraud with it, like the way they got paid for most of my other songs, but I don't pity them. You'll find a lot of those newly registered tracks in the below slideshow. Jan 27, 2019 10:58 PM Recent Music Videos Style Title/Link Other Data Date Posted On Blogger? Previously Shared? Music Tycoon Jan 27, 2019 2007 Music Shambles 2019 Jan 16, 2019 2011 Music Ooga Balooga Jan 7, 2019 2007 Music The Wayfarer Jan 6, 2019 2007 Music Flimsy (Effects) Dec 29, 2018 2007 Music Gr. Moose (Effects) Dec 27, 2018 2007, 2010 Music Juice (Effects) Dec 27, 2018 2007, 2010 Music Simper (Effects) Dec 27, 2018 2018 Music Currents (Effects) Dec 27, 2018 2015 Music Denial (Effects) Dec 27, 2018 2015 Music Redundant (Effects) Dec 27, 2018 2015 Music Tinsel Heaven (Effects) Dec 27, 2018 2007, 2017
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Equal Slights

Too bad the broadcasters want to keep lying about my talent when it shows that my thoughts are more important than any other stars' at this time. An extraordinary achievement, like writing all the best comedy and music on the TV and radio in the last 20 years by yourself, indicates an extraordinary experience which offers valuable knowledge. But the broadcasters don't care about you. And businessmen like Mick Jagger don't give a fuck about you. The talent business only cares about money and that is why it is more of a disaster than a business. That also goes for the lying broadcasting business that supports it. You people on TV, trying to stir up all this fraud love by keeping your lenses on song thieves like Mick Jagger: you are a disaster. Your business, as you call it, is one of the worst enemies of humanity since the Nazis. (You are also an unholy insult to God, but I'll try to keep my religion out of this.) You commit fraud like it's going out of style and you feel no guilt or remorse for your actions. You think it's all justified by dirty fraud profits when you make people pay fifty times more for my music and comedy from your gang of predators than they would have to from me alone. And you seem to need to insult the intelligence of your hapless dependents when you contradict self evident truths every day. Speaking of self evident truths, do American broadcasters hold that all men are created equal? Let me answer that for you: no. They don't think we have any rights because we're not in their famous star club with Mick Jagger and Nickleback and funny Mike Myers. They just think we're only good enough to suffer and live and write all the music and comedy for which their stars will be loved, but that we don't have the right image or appeal to be loved for it ourselves. If you wrote something they wanted, they'd take it from you. They'd destroy your family to steal and plagiarize your work. They'd even ruin your whole home town, just to be able to commit fraud with your music and comedy. And they don't even think I should be paid a cent when all this work I've been rewriting over the last ten years had to be dragged off of TV and radio and movies where it was making millions of dollars. And all their hatecasts and fraud love, like all this new attention for an old crook named Mick Jagger, never ceases to make my life more uncomfortable, whether its turning friends and neighbours against me, or making children hate me, or causing me to receive bad service at a store or institution. This idiotic industry has too much power and, if it is not razed to the ground, stands to destroy the whole world. They simply cannot keep trying to turn the real world into their own personal fantasy without eventually causing a global thermonuclear war. Maybe it will be for the best, for I'm sure there are better planets than this one, when it comes to protecting truth and innocence. I seem to be all alone with the task here in this hopeless place. Below I've thinned out my music links a little, to show you the hours of my own original good music that help me to keep my brain free of evil manipulations by offering me a selection of songs I can trust. You can trust them too. And you might also notice that a lot of them are already higher in quality than what the radio wants to play in their place. All My Money Arise Assault Bad News Beguiled Bird of Prey Bonkers Brown Lullaby Business Busybody Canopy Chair Cheer Class Close Rendezvous Control Conviction Crybaby Currents Denial Disenchanted Easy Ectomorph Energy Epitomes Everything Fantasies Faraway Places Fishface Flimsy Flounder Fool Fool's Paradise Foothead Forgotten Fortune Free Frenetic Friend in Need Goddess Godspeed Gr. Moose Gran Grumble Hairball Harmony Headlong Heartstrings Heretic Hot Hunted I'll Wait for Your Love Impressions Insidious It's Not You Juice Justice Leg It Up Lifeless Linger Loose Lucky Lech Magic Mayhem Meat Hooks Mischief Mixed Feelings More Sold Out Morning Shorelines Nonchalant Nonplussed Nothing but Ashes Oblivious Ooga Balooga Orbit Orcastra Out from Under Outside Passion Penitence Prone Puzzles Ram Ransom Redemption Redundant Respect Rugged Rules Rusty Sad Anger Sanctuary Satellite Sam Selfish Shambles Simper Size Slings and Arrows Soliloquay Space 2009 Special Spellbound Spoils Stagger Stultified Survival Telepathy Temperance Tenseness Therapy Tinsel Heaven Together Topsy-turvy Tycoon Ugly Unabused Underachiever Uneven Untoward Vanquished Virtue Wallet Wayfarer, the © 2018. Songs by David Skerkowski. All rights reserved.
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You Can't Trust Them

Tell me, how would you expect a spoiled fucker like Mick Jagger and his band to deal with getting caught stealing his music? Wouldn't you expect some asshole with a business education, who became the pet of all the business assholes in the music business so his fame could outlast all the artists from his time, wouldn't you expect some totally detached star, who hasn't lived in the real world since Kennedy was shot, to ignore his wrongdoing and expect the whole crowd to go on loving him? And wouldn't you expect him to have the money to grease the palms of all his friends in broadcasting to keep his music in the schedule for him, where it can reach out and assault his fraud victim in the store where his music is playing? And you're supposed to think the Rolling Stones are still good because they're still on the radio. Does it work? It sure as hell doesn't work on me. I nearly have a stroke from having to hear his voice in music after his crimes with my music. They took more than Nothing but Ashes, by the way, which is a gorgeous song that has been utterly ruined by their molesting crime. They took 'just a few songs, mate.' I may not rewrite them before I die. And do you think you're safer listening to their older songs? No fraud band is worth such a step. You can't trust them anymore. Where did they get their first round of hits? Who knows? But you can't trust them. In fact, from what I've learned, artists in their forties were much more vulnerable in the 1960's because they lacked modern copyright protection and the younger predator stars all knew it. And so did their predator managers, who are more like violent gangsters when they're showing their true colours. Since younger performers often covet the sophistication of an older artist's music, the climate would have been ripe for all kinds of violations back then. The poor, unprotected, older artists were helpless against false arrests and incarcerations at the hands of lying up-and-comers intent on stealing new music. But now they don't get away with such horrors for real, so they just try to get away with it in their imaginary broadcast bullshit world. They just take the song and lie about the artist they stole it from. Accidentally Blown Affinity Aggression-Depression All My Money Apostrophe Unneeded Arise Assault Asylum Babydoll Bad News Beguiled Bird of Prey Blazon Bonkers Brown Lullaby Business Busybody Candy Hearts Canopy Careful Casual Chair Cheer Class Close Rendezvous Clouds Comfort Conflict Conscience Contented Control Conviction Crybaby Currents Decent Delightful Denial Dignity Disenchanted Doors of Love Dun Easy Ectomorph Empty Energy Epitomes Everything Fantasies Faraway Places Figments Fishface Flimsy Flounder Fool Fool's Paradise, This Foothead Forgiveness Forgotten Fortune Free Frenetic Friday's Child Friend in Need Fun Goddess Godspeed Gr. Moose Gran Grumble Hairball Harmony Headlong Heartstrings Heretic Homage Homeless Hot Hunted I'll Wait for Your Love Impressions Insidious Innocent It Makes Me Wonder It's Not You Juice Justice Laura-Li Leg It Up Lifeless Linger Loose Lucky Lech Magic Make-believe World Mambo Fever Mayhem Meanest Joke, the Meantime Meat Hooks Mischief Mistaken Mixed Feelings More Sold Out Morning Shorelines Motion Cautionary Musician Natural Nonchalant Next Best Thing Nonplussed Nothing but Ashes Oblivious Ooga Balooga Orbit Orcastra Out from Under Outside Passion Past the Limit Pathetic Penitence Plow Practice Preteen Queen Promise Prone Puzzles Ram Ransom Redemption Redundant Respect Rugged Rules Rusty Sad Anger Sanctuary Satellite Sam Sense Selfish Sentimental Shabby Shambles Simper Simple Size Slings and Arrows Smile Soliloquay Space 2009 Special Spellbound Spoils Stagger Stress Stultified Suicide Sunny Skies Survival Targets Telepathy Temperance Tenseness Therapy Thrown Stones Tinsel Heaven Together Together Again Topsy-turvy Tricks Tumble Tunnel Vision Tycoon Ugly Unabused Underachiever Uneven Untoward Vanquished Virtue Visions Wallet Wayfarer, the What Do You Do All Day? Whiner Whore Widen Wild © 2018. Songs by David Skerkowski. All rights reserved.
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