Scented Shadows

2010-02-12T09:24:00.001-06:00

I am now using ping.fm to update many of my websites. This may be exactly what the doctor ordered.

New Music

2009-06-03T08:47:00.001-05:00

Mental Distrophy - this is a practice session from late May, 2009....

©2009 All Rights Reserved

Coming Soon

2009-03-10T10:27:00.002-05:00

A new single from Dangerous Enlightenment Studios - Olympus Mons - I figured that since the Neologism release has been delayed again, I needed to get this up and out for you as soon as possible. Like Neologism, I'll be offering it free for anyone that wants it along with a link so you can pay for it if you want. No pressure, but I will be without a job soon, so, if you can donate, that would be awesome!

So, until it's ready, be kind to everyone and remember that we were all innocent babies for a while during our lives....

©2009 All Rights Reserved

Is There Only One Music?

2009-03-05T09:52:00.000-06:00

If music is the audible vibration that creates the Metaverse, is there only one music? Just like there are aspects of existence (and/or non-existence) that an individual does not like, finds offensive, shuns, rejects, a person must at least accept the existence of those things. And there are tunes, styles, presentations of music that an individual might not resonate with, but they are still music, right? Perhaps there is only the never ending symphony of creation with motifs, leitmotifs, themes, movements, variations and re-orchestrations that conspire to manifest the folds and membranes of all the universes. One song, one metaverse. Perhaps if we would each harmonize with the theme that is playing through us, we could be midwifes of a better existence.

For now, I choose to believe this.

©2009 All Rights Reserved

New Album Out Soon

2009-02-18T09:31:00.003-06:00

My new collection of music entitled Neologism will be out soon. By the end of the month, actually. And it will be available for FREE download. The whole thing. I'll even be including album art and liner notes for you. There will be a PayPal link where you can donate if you are so moved.

I will be uploading the album to iTunes and to Amazon MP3, and they, of course, will be charging money for the album, but that won't happen for a few months after it is available for download from my site.

The music is more eclectic than my previous releases - from hard core industrial music in the tradition of Throbbing Gristle to synth-pop dance tracks a la late period Ultravox to post rock soundscapes in the vein of Fripp and Sigur Ros. All under one cohesive roof!

I look forward to hearing what folks think about the new work, and I want anyone and everyone to have a chance to hear it and respond to it --

Neologism - by Stuart Dummit
on Dangerous Enlightenment Recordings
February, 2009

©2009 All Rights Reserved

Hormone Junkies Surge with New Music

2008-12-11T08:52:00.002-06:00

"This ep is awesome. The music gives off the following kind of vibe: 'Be careful. If you taste our sweat, you will break out into hives and go into some psychodelic (sic) cardiac arrest.'" - Joel D., Ethics Professor

So, here's your chance to download the first EP from Hormone Junkies, a band often referred to as "the saviors of modern dance music."

Three songs: Oozing Rainbows, Slave and Red Room wind their way into your brain and get your endorphins churning through your system.

Play Loud.

©2008 All Rights Reserved

Don't Vote

2008-10-01T14:11:00.002-05:00

the seeds of a song... beginning thoughts

2008-06-15T09:05:00.002-05:00

The suit of meat
That parades as me
Precipitated thought
Has congealed to be

The singer of the songs
The plucker of the strings
The architect of waste
The maker of all things.

Stuart Dummit
©2008 All Rights Reserved

I am cold

2007-12-02T10:49:00.000-06:00

i am a cold man
colder than i should be
the freeze comes from inside my bones
and works its way out
it makes everything hard
except what feels good to be that way
and that makes others say i am cold
and not hard

piss on them all
i don't care that i am cold
i don't care that i can't see
i don't care that the heat
does nothing for me

i am a cold man
and that coldness is a blessing
no one wants to touch a cold man
no one wants to be cold

except me

New Project

2007-10-21T09:24:00.000-05:00

I am starting a new project which involves processed images taken with my celphone. Lots of possibilities here. Here is a sample of what is in store....

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

Irregular Heartbeat

2007-09-23T19:29:00.000-05:00

music and lyric by Stuart Dummit

I'm trying hard not to hear
Voices
Lapping at the shoreline
Of my breathing (dreaming)

I've been living with an
Irregular heartbeat
A rhythm hard to feel
But recognized by more than just a few

Oh, I can feel the urge inside
Welling up inside me
Caught in the crossfire
My desires revealed themselves to you

With all the feelings
And the flavors
Of my favor

I cannot close my eyes without seeing yours
Dark with lust but cast away from me
Time slips between my hands
And there's nothing I can do to change the way I see you

I've been living with an
Impossible heartbeat
A rhythm known to all
But recognized by just a few

Oh, I can feel the surge inside
Rising up within me
Caught in the crossfire
My demise revealed itself to you

With all the feelings
And the flavors
All the intrigues
And the dangers
Of my favor

I cannot close my eyes without seeing yours
Dark with lust and cast away from me
I cannot raise my hand without knowing that
You'll see the sign and rush away from me
Rhyme sifts between my hands
And there's nothing I can do to change the way you see me

I'm trying hard
Not to fear
Voices
Lapping at the shoreline
Of my dreaming (breathing)

©2007 All Rights Reserved

Markings On Strange Doors

2006-01-30T17:03:00.000-06:00

...more...

2006-01-01T13:55:00.000-06:00

predestined moonlight
touches a fist full of
ancient crystal paths
aromatic whispers
appear in tossed
stones, bones and
marketing phones

©2006 All Rights Reserved

a sudden verse

2006-01-01T13:48:00.000-06:00

rush the water white
sharp the needle of the pine
soft the air between

©2006 All Rights Reserved

2005-08-04T13:48:00.000-05:00

An object nestled within a sanguine landscape.

The Day the Ginko Leaves Fell

2005-07-27T08:57:00.000-05:00

I recall that brisk and bracing day:
Yellow golden fans edged in green
Whipping, swirling 'mid Sol's heatless ray
And drifting down to lay between
The stalks of grass with random pose
To make mosaics on the lawn
A single day the gods have chose
The ginko's cloak to mandate gone.
I remember, I think, that chilly day
The skirt shaped leaves upon me lay
As 'neath the branches I lightly sleep
And life's clear moments Time's burglar reaps;
He takes away, I seem to recall,
The fleeting scent of the leaves of Fall
And then the painting behind my eyes,
The light around and within dies.
I recall it, I swear, I know I remember
That bracing wind of late November.
The day the ginko leaves laid down
To rest like me...

Dangerous Enlightenment (version 2)

2005-07-26T10:40:00.000-05:00

You single sun slung photon
Fractured by a solitary tear of dawn
That holds to razor tipped
Blade of grass, its head bowed,
Perhaps in prayer,
Clinging like a spirit might
To its corporeal home,
Not needed now.
Your colored sheets of shards
Strike the smokey lens
Of my unclean eye,
Calling to spread your wings
Upon my sashed and shuttered window.
You particle of light,
Do not give up so soon on me!
I may yet taste your wave-like gown,
And use it as a solar sail
To catch the maker's breath
Upon the quantum sea.

2005-06-27T14:18:00.000-05:00

Possibilities, like ants, crawl in misunderstood patterns around my feet. My bare toes dig into the soil as they scamper across the surface of my skin sending sensations of feathers, lightly brushing the nerve endings in my feet. These possibilities intrigue me. They lure me yet repel me. I want to stamp them out. Crush them. They offend me. They scare me.

2004-08-05T15:34:00.000-05:00

Is it a matter of creating a biography for ones self rather than allowing the biography to develop on its own? This seems to me to be a twisted recursive symptom of the Post Modern Effect. So acutely aware of ourselves have we become that peering at our own lives from the as of yet folded future is required to properly and effectively steer ourselves toward the intended goal. Maintaining the proper tense within sentences is impossible because past, present and future are places that function as optional frames of reference and not as relatively stable and static observation towers within the topography of our existence. Deconstruct our impact on our environment from the outside in and reconstruct it at a transdimentional oblique so that we can know what we are before we decide how to get there....

2002-05-03T14:29:00.000-05:00

it is heavy

Nuzzled barely awake by the dog before dawn, my limbs, numb from poor posture while sleeping, fail to respond to the rusty commands of my brain. The cold nose against my side causes me to roll over and groan. The dog's response to this is to whine and begin to dig at my back as he would in the garden after I've planted a Japanese eggplant.

"Mornin' Sweetpea...you got one cold nose...and remind me to clip your nails...."

"BaaaarROOOOOH!" is the response accompanied by another nudge of the arctic nose, this time to the small of my back.

I hold him by his floppy ears and press my forehead against his furry cranium. "You're such a sweet doggy dog dog, Sweetpea! Now go down and make a pot of coffee while Daddy takes a whizz."

Stumbling down the stairs I think to myself, "I don't think he understands a word I say to him." Proof is in the fact that he is following behind me by one step proudly carrying a crusty sock in his mouth. No coffee has been brewed for me.

The sky is still dark and I feel as though the air outside is colder than it should be for May. Opening a window I confirm my suspicion.

Cooking the coffee and taking a slice of Amish friendship bread I stand at the window, cold and unawake, awkwardly filling my BVDs. The cold, wet nose again, this time on my bare leg, reminds me of my sole purpose in life. "Okay, Maxy...let Daddy finish a cup of coffee first and put on some clothes and we'll go do your thing." I must be careful not to actually say "go outside" or go for a walk." He knows those words and they invariably illicit a spasmodic response.

"I love you, Max," I think out loud.

Later, my shoes tied and my sweatshirt keeping me warm, I call to Max as I gaze from a distance out the window, the morning light beginning to rally. Still several paces from the pane I say in a hush, "You want to go for a walk, Maxy?" He begins his dance around me, his nails clicking against the hardwood floor.

Max sits before me as I fasten his collar and clip on the lead. We step out onto the porch where the pre-dawn breeze is stealing moisture from the blades of grass, the smell of morning tingles on my face and tosses my hair. The dog sniffs the steps, then my pant leg, then looks up at me in expectation. The last of the stars are fading from view.

At such a time of natural magic and wonder, I would think that there would be a sense of ease, of lightness, of rightness. Instead, it is heavy. Heavier than the clouds that mask the rising sun, heavier than the dew that drips from the deep green leaves, heavier than my heart when faced with the need to let go of this enchanted time. It is heavy. The entire sense of things is heavy. The smells are saturated, the colors muted but rich, the coolness slowing down the movement of particles, making them sink and press down, gently, gently, upon my shoulders and brow.

There is a tug and I look down to see Max straining at the leash for a telephone pole to water. I allow the slack and he glances back at me before he raises his leg. Was that in appreciation? And then I wonder if he feels this weight. I doubt it. But I am sure that he senses that I feel something and that it is heavy.

2002-05-02T14:31:00.000-05:00

words spoken by others

"...but then the....okay...

okay...[pause] do you...now who is the one that I call when I need to insta....

uh huh...uh huh...okay...that's great. Yeah. Uh huh. It's really, I think, a lot easier than

Yeah! I think so....what?"

"...so, Georgia? It's a totally new product.....1.8 billion records."

"Is that just records or things they stamp?"

"Just the electronic sta-"

"I talked to Steph and she said that they weren't usinging it according to specs."

"Hey, if that's what they want to do, we're not under contract with them."

"...Oh, actually...it isn't any more than that."

"...oh, I'm sorry, what?....oh yeah....she's in here too. I need to get back to...."

"Yeah! That's right! Better you than me!"

"Cool. Yeah. Thanks. Bye."

"Dickhead."

"Guess I know who you'll be taking to the prom!"

"...eat shit and die, Bonnie."

2002-04-30T16:15:00.000-05:00

Raza, raza; singlit nabkuusa.

Raza, raza, sid glaufan. Singlit nabkuusa din. Uubba uubba nastrolli zandgrit zumma flr lickyya. Mmmm...gummi gummi leder sheathen. Zandof zarathustra; Zarathustra gn ridding up n owaay frm rth n mee nhall d'peeples' cuszn dey d'nna unnerstan. Singlit nabkuusa din. N aiy dnna ker iffn yall unnerstan ernat. M'eye iz iznt hallzo kleer. Eyez kn zee throo mie aiyzlidz 'n zee wharz Eye fron. An' deye onedr owlon git'll taeyck fermi tu unnerstan duh meenin ov daleddrs ondap age. Izzit 'mee horizit dawrld arroun dmee?

Eye mizz de kuhlness ovda autumnair. Eye mizz deastoun dings keyes ab ov. Eye mizz desown dov birdzin damorn. I mizz the tutch of mask ulines kin. I mizz the tutch ofs kin aginstkin. Eye mizz unnerstan ding wat utherz want frommee. Eye knead to bee kneaded. Eye knead to bee . . . thatzit . . . Iye knead to bethauh wone thatzees, tha tears, thatsays, "The words they speak mean things to them alone, and any effective communication between you and another is a total fluke. It's amazing that anything ever gets done."

2002-04-26T15:03:00.000-05:00

malestrom

brrrrrrr....the breezy, drafty whispers coming from those dark and uncontrolable ideas that pop into the minds of innocent bystanders as they witness horrible deeds contemplated by celebrities and sinners...there is no hope of coming to terms with their evil ways. the illusion of power has constructed an even more fragile hallucination of corruption. if only they knew that it doesn't matter...that none of it matters...it's just an illusion.

problem is is that not only do people believe in the illusion of power and corruption, but they believe in the consequences, which are illusions as well. it is all fragile as I said. remove one leg that it stands on and it begins to teeter to one side and totter to the other and before you know it the entire construct becomes deconstructed and rains down on your head like a reign of illusion. it chases its own tail, over and over again. each time it picks up speed. a highly destructive constructed and deconstructed dream it has become and all because we are willing to believe in aphorisms, anecdotes and iambic pentameter. i find no such solace there, or here, or over there beyond the malestrom...only here...

in the off center

where the water turns white

before the water - drain cyclone sucks me down

2002-04-22T16:16:00.000-05:00

,

more goose-pimpled sounds, insipid pin-pricks of mental illumination shoot like darts from the outer sphere toward the surface where we stand. The coldness behind my eyeballs foretells the frosty vision of the winter-minded Way. Slippery, fresh, biting, mucus freezing as it drains out your nostrils onto your naked upper lip...I can see that you are unprepared for the topography of the seasons as they are sifted through the comb-teeth of our perceptions.

The sky, blue, the sun, yellow-white and without warmth, the snow, golden where the great star illuminates and where shadows rule, blue. The winter sky is astounding as it domes over the crystal covered branches and glass encrusted flowers, sprung from the ground too soon.

Is the air actually cleaner, or does it simply smell less darkened when the coldness dampens ones sense of smell?

From out of the gallery comes the maroon and saffron robed monk, the chill is pleasant on his darkened skin. It clings to and is transformed by the friendly smile and grinning eyes.

Om A Hung Vajra Guru Peme Siddhi Hung.

Om Mani Peme Hung

Om A Hum Vajra Guru Padme Siddhi Hum.

Om Mani Padme Hum

The smell of dhoop rises into the city sky. The sound of chanting mingles with the roar of noise obsessed animals. Compassion, compassion.

I retreat into that place where I can count the insipid pin-pricks of mental illumination like sheep, trying to send myself to sleep.

2002-04-16T15:48:00.000-05:00

the seed, the source, the sanctuary

all rites and rituals reserved

copyright 2002 by Stuart Dummit

hush...esthers of cinnamon and burnt apple are crawling on their bellies toward the shuddering door. The Wind, strong armed and transparent, rattles and rages beyond the panels of wood, carrying crystalized puffs of breath in swirling ribbons, seeking chinks in the walls and halls and tall, tall towers where the shadowy tingles and goose pimples live. And all the while, instead of casting darkness like shadows against the candle lit walls, the odors of autumn project their timely tastes upon the boards of ash that line the flickering yellow lit room.

Weighted eyelids begin to crust over. A warm and sweetish spring begins to trickle tickle across the fleshy cheek and cling as it runs, in defiance of gravity, across and down upon crochet-covered shoulder. Struggle against the sleep, my dear, and enjoy the guilty nap. The candles burn low, the drafts wind around the table legs and sneek beneath the shawl and between the prayer clasped hands. Night time arrives unnoticed and sweet.

Scented Shadows

New Music

Coming Soon

Is There Only One Music?

New Album Out Soon

Hormone Junkies Surge with New Music

Don't Vote

the seeds of a song... beginning thoughts

I am cold

New Project

Irregular Heartbeat

Markings On Strange Doors

...more...

a sudden verse

The Day the Ginko Leaves Fell

Originally published at Poetry.com
© 2005 Stuart Dummit

Dangerous Enlightenment (version 2)

Originally published on Poetry.com
Copyright ©2005 Stuart E. Dummit

Scented Shadows

New Music

Coming Soon

Is There Only One Music?

New Album Out Soon

Hormone Junkies Surge with New Music

Don't Vote

the seeds of a song... beginning thoughts

I am cold

New Project

Irregular Heartbeat

Markings On Strange Doors

...more...

a sudden verse

The Day the Ginko Leaves Fell

Originally published at Poetry.com © 2005 Stuart Dummit

Dangerous Enlightenment (version 2)

Originally published on Poetry.comCopyright ©2005 Stuart E. Dummit

Originally published at Poetry.com
© 2005 Stuart Dummit

Originally published on Poetry.com
Copyright ©2005 Stuart E. Dummit