Monday, July 27, 2009

The Bay of Bobba Nooba Nominee (demo)

You may recall the uproar over the song The Fackamilly Sea. So that no one revives their protests, we've renamed the song and allowed the demo to be released. Here's a link to the original post with the lyrics.

Thursday, July 23, 2009

The Slave On My Great Grandparents' Farm [NEW DEMO]

The Slave On My Great Grandparents' Farm

_______________________Consider how I'm not a man.
_______________________Gag at how you brought me here.
_______________________Promise dries with every tear,
_______________________Though I am doing all I can.

_______________________Let me lie in a pile of pride.
_______________________Drag me out as though I've died.
_______________________In time to come, when old and sad,
_______________________All my memories will be bad.

_______________________I drain your money every year,
_______________________Yet I eat nothing and have no goods.
_______________________I'm lazy, lousy, but I clear your woods.
_______________________Then y' tell friends how y' hold me dear.

_______________________Of all of this grime, what to believe?
_______________________Shall I grit or should I grieve?
_______________________In time to come, when old and sad,
_______________________All my memories will be bad.

_______________________I do not dream of an escape,
_______________________But will your love anew appear?
_______________________It's why I let you plop me here,
_______________________Thinking we could be a team.

_______________________I really feel ridiculous.
_______________________I don't believe you anymore.
_______________________But I can't just walk through the door.
_______________________We never could have been a team.

_______________________Let me lie in a pile of pride.
_______________________Drag me out as though I've died.
_______________________Foresee how I'll be old and sad
_______________________And all my memories will be bad.

Monday, April 13, 2009

new demo: Back When Beeb Had a Kid

Back When Beeb Had a Kid

Back when Beeb had a kid,
I was better than average.
I was clothes that would fit.
I was an electric bull,
A crook to acquit.
Unaware was there to tease
Back when Beeb had a kid.

Back when Beeb entered in,
Didn't hear when you flipped out,
Couldn't tell where you went.
Maybe you had a Skylark
With a bronze-colored dent.
Not a wrong move could e'er displease
Back when Beeb wanted in.

Little Beeb was turning ten.
I was drinking an ocean 
You did lead me to swim.
All of my salty wounds
Were just sinkin' in.
I was slick as a dolphin.
Now it's 2010.

Back when Beeb had a kid.
Our letters were after Z
With love at the end.
You were tough as a Robin Hood
With a forest of grins.
I was never tilling trees
Back when Beeb had a kid.


Friday, February 6, 2009

To Be Just Right (demo)

My only love song.
---Keddiz

To Be Just Right

Glug for the kuchen,
Thermometer maze.
Stiss, who's a toothoose,
To Thoosten Therese:
Sing
On the moss
And the man's
In the mace.

Glug to my luck
To be just right.
There was a bug on a vine
That took a crayon and signed
Me in the club, so fluorescent--
Glug!--
To see Jess right.

Formalda me Jeckyl,
Bubonna le farge,
Great-Grammy Bammosilla,
Mammy Muhgarge.
Moomen E Fote, see,
Cumin eat goat seed.
Cayenne-esque curtsy:
Koyaanisqatsi.

Glug to my luck
To be just right.
There was a bug on a vine
That took a crayon and signed
Me in the club, so fluorescent--
Glug!--
To see Jess right.

With hot chess pie
On cold, June night,
She sees me glug
To be just right.
To see sunrise
On knee gone white
One Jess would last
Upon first sight.
Get me Wendy Winda cause my wind's on tight.
Not a Dinny to be finned without a Cring Crong Crite.
Glad a devil's food or feta pita on Sprite.
Gluggin' here alone and true while you sit tight!

Glug to my luck
To be just right.
There was a bug on a vine
That took a crayon and signed
Me in the club, so fluorescent--
Glug!--
To see Jess right.

Monday, February 2, 2009

The snow of 1997

Back in 1997 when snow was deep, particular debutantes wrote manuscripts, treatises, and songs for others in the confines of their heated Deam's Lake cabins. Below is one such that which it is. Demo, as always, to the left:

It's a Snow Day

From the sleet
On the road,
To a note upon the website.
Tell my mom
On the cell,
Then I head on to a Kurzweil.
Well, the wife still had to go.
That convent cannot run itself.

It's a snow day,
But I need the money more.

Twas a time
When I would feel
Every love I had experienced.
All is gone.
I got none.
Now I wonder how I'll find the funds
To pay the city for false alarms,
To order flowers for Valentines.

It's a snow day,
But I need the money more.

To clarify,
Never have
I experienced emotion.
I'm a sick sugar-
Eating robot
Who needs quick modification.
It's clear as ice on Outer Loop
No white horse is heading through.

It's a snow day,
But I need the money more.

"All of y'all
Can simply die."
It just helps to sometimes say that.
I am penny-
Less at home
With deep mistakes hailing around me.
Not that surer days are ahead.
All our choices are tied for last

It's a snow day,
But I need the money more.

"Shovel me,"
Says the snow.
"You can put a path beyond me."
I ignore weather
Once again.
It don't know what it's talkin' 'bout.
Even when I see the road,
I will ride into its ditch.

It's a snow day,
But I need the money more.

--Keddiz

Wednesday, January 14, 2009

demo new

We found this demo in a box in the men's room. We almost threw it out with the old rags. --Keddiz

I'm All But Done

Whimpers in a box.
Could be puppies
Not a single soul is taking home.
All they want's
A ride into the country.
It's a ride they'll never take.
This is where I'm at today.
I'm all but done.

This one stays in the front.
They have tied his throat
And he can barely bark.
Could have stuck up for him then,
But I was so fast asleep.
It would have been a paradox.
I could have tried it anyway.
He's under the bushes
His world undervalues.
Not that it matters,
But it's one other comfort

That he just doesn't have.
And he thinks his bone's
About a block away,

But it took a truck
To Indonesia,
A place that's a symbol for him
Of where he'll fail to be,
To where he'll fail to venture.
It's all that he's thinking
When you pass him.

Here's some hope for you
As you sit there wondering
When it's gonna come:
The world will gather up the little puppies.
You will find them all a home.
So it's no metaphor for me;
I'm all but done.

Tuesday, January 6, 2009

another demo from a while back

Love Is a Tug On the Sleeve

You have arrived in our world.
It had been filled with no good.
Wonder how you could have heard
That you had been wanted for years.

We have discovered, uncovered today
That love is a tug on the sleeve.
When we question how come,
You will say,
"Love is a tug on the sleeve."

No one had guided your hand.
Science and fate aren't real.
Specters pop in every eve;
You are a trusted mist in the morn.
Whether we stand or move on,
Muddle or magically rise,
Clothes that we find ourselves in
Are never the obvious size.

Know it
That over and over we read
The letter our shirts have received.
When we question how come,
You will say,
"Love is a tug on the sleeve."

Thursday, August 21, 2008

international friend, Tobba Deeba Doba

Many of my songs never got past stage three. Here's one of them:


The Fackamilly Sea


Toe,
Tobba Deeba Doba,
Collate a paper for the fetus
Who would read us Theaetetus
By the Bay of Bobba Nooba Nominee.

So,
Winnie was a Greco.
Get some Caesar wit' the feta
'Fore ya mail the lucky letter
Down to Greta on the Fackamilly Sea.

Say,
Gotta add a minus.
Kierkegaardin' from the sinus
With a sack of Saint Aquinas
By the Bay of Bobba Nooba Nominee.

Eat
Zingers for the Zyla.
Hide a Dinger in the collar.
Hear a Haydn, Bach, or Mahler.
Read a Zola for the fate of fugues in me.

On the Fackamilly Sea,
Bobba Nooba Nominee
Fed the bay that writ for me
The lucky letter led alee.
On a boat about to flee
From single soft soliloquy,
I couldn't think or speak to thee
Or even glean from good
That's better put.
And yet, it's meant to be.

--------------Keddiz

Tuesday, August 12, 2008

new demo released

The Game of the Criss-Cross

You and I lost
The game of the criss-cross.
Our corpus is down
Lyin' at the Ground Round,
Covered in steak sauce.

The bowling alley life, it's time to sell.
The ball, it can't be shined.
My thumb, too sore.
Here we go:
You give a wink. I'll add the tiddley.

We were murdered
By good sense's burglar
Who had hid in a drawer
And slept in our corridor.
It isn't unheard of.

The bowling alley life-job, it's time to leave.
The pizza boat is up.
The shoes are in.
Turn away.
You wink and nod.
I've got your tiddley.

Promises were kept
From taking the good step.
Stumbling again,
The foot of the high price
Hadn't a sales rep.

The dishes' dirt, it's there for good.
So is the rust upon the rest of it.
No more fight.
You shrug and sigh. No more to mention.

We could once pause
The game that we've since lost.
We'd look at our wristwatch,
Give it a pish-posh,
And pick up the dishcloth.

The dishes' dirt, it's there for good.
The cup in the center,
Just enough room.
Our turn comes now.
You give a wink. I'll add the tiddley.

--Keddiz

Friday, July 18, 2008

new demo!

Written by Thad's great-uncle many years ago. Thad, as we speak, is likely wondering how to fix all his egregious problems. I've got ten dollars on "will let more pile on"......


Build Chamber For Man From Netherlands


I have heard of a chamber
That waits in a lab
To keep me from finally
Breathing my last,
But my family and friends proceeded to laugh,
"It is simply a rumor.
That's all that it is."
So I call to the labs
And advanced program kids...

You must build me this chamber for once and for all.
No, I will not blow smoke
Or dense fog.
For I need myself here to sort through all my notes
And I am not convinced of God or ghost.

My country dreams this from time to time.
Only I'm the Dutch
Who believes in such
And I know the world isn't so much in love with me
That they'd build
What I dearly feel
Must be done.

All of my jugglers
From Oostberg to Tiel
Have told me their judges
Will promptly reveal
That the verdict is down and can't be repealed.
I value their strength
But their sense I have tossed.
I have faith in the form of an
Ignorance lost.

You must build me the chamber for once and for all.
No, I will not blow smoke
Or dense fog.
Like with the paper clip,
Like with lathe,
You felt no use for them.
Now you do.
You have your points to hit.
No time to do it all.
This is the greater good
And it's slipped your mind.

Everyone's kicked these fancies aside.
Only I'm the Dutch
Who believes in such.
While we all could stand just a touch of the practical,
Grant one wish
For this chamber-less
Human being.

Tuesday, July 8, 2008

my attention

It's come to my attention that I've initiated several recent mistakes. I do not apologize. Liken my maneuvers to silver ginger on the careful fix.



You Look Of Gold

They walk past the clerk.
And they aren't adequate, though I want them.
But I won't wreck what I don't have
To get them.

You look of gold.
You are the standard.
Bare all at the hearing.

Victory, not elusive
But I evade it
Out of latent weakness
Which I will pass on to others...
Then forget.

You look of gold.
You are the standard.
Fall thin on this never.

You look of gold
To a breath taking hold.
You are the standard.
Bare all at the hearing.

Keddiz--------------------------------------

Monday, July 7, 2008

sorry

<-<-<-<-<-<-You Look Like Always>->->->->->

As I walk left,
And as I don't,
The ones around tell me in transit
That I look like always.
The pace that I get
Set to no feet
Gives off a radiance to admit, though I change,
The false holds dominion
For I look like always.

Steam engine work.
You're taken away.
Can't be retrieved by someone who dreams of you.
Look what I've done.
Look what's asunder.
No longer we wonder how
You look like always.
You look like always.

->->->->->->->->Keddiz

Friday, June 20, 2008

The Solid Steps

I'm not off,
But of normal sense.
Ready not to use it.
Poised to forestall
The solid steps.

I should shift
But I simply shan't.
Gavel of the lessons
Pounds to head down
The solid steps.

Scale, it tips to bother
As it thwarts a brother,
Keeps him from his druthers
And drags him to the cellar.

There, his seal is threatened.
Now he'll never punch it.
That which he would rather
Met the destined fetter.

Bred to thrive,
And/or get it right.
Armed to clock the progress.
Formed pedals for
The solid steps.

--Keddiz

Wednesday, June 11, 2008

revenge on sick

Singes upon you, useless, desperate adversity!
Singes to you until every beyond!
I am bogged, rootlessly down by simmering blubbery
Soon to be brought upon a platter for you with an if-and-when plaster,
A salve of counter-attacks upon unprotected wretchedness,
------------------------------------All while this leather strap of a mantra,
------------------------------------That I bite with silent grit,
------------------------------------Gives you hint to the revenge I take on the sick:
------------------------------------Singes upon you, sick.
------------------------------------I mean the primates and I mean fire and I mean
------------------------------------Those in the careless clear.
------------------------------------Lie, I do, under each bed to swipe in wellness.

--Keddiz

Tuesday, June 10, 2008

Sick

Offertory basket, you have been offered the usual. You will take these winnings into the sacresty. I, on the other hand, have no time for my tune about the barber college. If I withhold time for this tune, no one is moved. If the time is redistributed, no one is moved.

And when it's all a big bit of laughter, at a moment that I wish it not to be so, then I can't take it any more. You, in turn, will no longer be able to handle what might be dropped inside you, for it will all be over. Your ability to perceive the tragedy truly evaporates and justice becomes the disparate streams of the perpetually unreasonable.

Thursday, June 5, 2008

The Draining Eyelids


Going to make myself stay the heck up tonight.
Tomorrow isn't planning to refresh.
I'm going to be involved in a knife fight.
The plan is to jab his skin and kick as well.
It will be darker than ever.

Who hasn't dipped their dark tabasco
In a danker hull of the Corrigan sea?
Looks like others other than me.
Horrible southerners! Sorrowful we.
We as the ripped of chest
Who wrangle the rest of us dippers,
Search out skippers.

Boat,
You are the boat that keeps my drums from angry voice,
Though, you're dependent on water.
But, awaiting the knife fight involvement.

Childlessness,
Body's playing recorded message.
Temple is sighing & pushing erase.
Son of the Socket, I say unto every last:
That one's for chase. This, for submission.
To give his life less trouble,
I could let him go definitely.
Force him out with anger
And/or save self from what's scary.
And here I go to try
Then wait.
...He won't leave.

Look, you will, when eyelids are draining:
More is remaining.

--Keddiz

Thursday, May 29, 2008

RENDER

Render unto me your readership. Whatsoever you do to the rest of my messages, that you do unto Mentennial. Read all to the illiterate. Understand where I go:


**********Caliber Man********

I approach old age*********
With the youthful rage******
Of a caliber man***********
Who will disengage.********

Every limp will stomp.********
Missing teeth to chomp*******
At a perfect five*************
On the MRI.****************

I'm a caliber man***********
With the load of the land*****
Weighing wits by the sea*****
Down wind in the sand.******

Holy war I will wage*******
As a sage in the cage*******
Of a caliber man***********
Who will disengage.********

Tuesday, May 27, 2008

Xylophoned....."Might a micken a maw?"

Xylophoned by Synth, Scat & Zithers

You rolled the carpet. We said to keep it.
You yipped and yapped just as you yelled and you yiped at us.

So you were xylophoned by Synth, Scat & Zithers.
You balled up your fist at our cyst fraught with soft, down feathers.
And whether you wanted us more or whether care less,
When you need the malleting, well, we will be your guest.

We don't care about your...Academy Awards.
You gather as many as you can....and then get more.
"We don't want to end up
As the men we thought we'd be."
...Such is the burden of the talk of the town.
He leans where the yoke lies
And throws out-of-bounds
Or up through the blowholes of the sailor who drowned,
Who's at a sad disadvantage
As a whale of a sandwich
That winks from a nautical nine hundred feet down.

Poor, our Samson, he must wait.
Wherever he is, however he's changed,
It's unlikely that time will tell....
So you were xylophoned by Synth, Scat & Zithers.
You swore out an oath square at our growth fraught with soft down feathers.
And whether you wanted us more or whether care less,
When you need the malleting, well, we will be your guest.

--Synth, Scat, Zithers, and Keddiz


Thursday, May 15, 2008

YOU WON'T SAVE Keddiz, BUT YOU CAN FIND HIM

I feel very bad
For the very much deprived.
A twinge upon a tad
Of an empathy arrived.
They, the willing victims of the dreaded double-damn,
Stay along the dotted, dated, daunting line of laughs,
Bellow at the feckless that it's fruitless to believe the task
Is all but taken care of,
So they share themselves.

With whom?
I think you know,
But let's keep the curtain thin s'it is.
On a rainy Thursday this
Becomes a curse that treats their kids
To sodas, slurpies, pecan sandies,
Woe, and cause to form a fist
To blood the palm with days they absolutely lost
In lieu of bliss.

--Keddiz

Wednesday, May 14, 2008

Hard To Not Wither When The Offer's Relaxed.

Here in the midst
Of chosen and given
I thought what I'd wished
Wouldn't miss me right here.
This rips the skin
From shoulder to nail
Like low-downs agreeing to plankwalk the men
Then crossbone the sail.
It is them I beseech
To tend to the tear.
When I reach out my hand,
No one is there.

Now that I'm aged,
More days 'neath the hat,
I understand the tower.
I wish to go in it,
But I cannot do it.
And you would ask why....

Hard to not wither when the offer's relaxed.
Ready to go. Told to turn back.
Jellyfish circle.
Eels there to poison.
Whirlpool, a wormhole--
My very last dream.

Not come to pass.
Here in the wasn't.
Appears that the tether
Still keeps the say.
This rips the skin
From shoulder to nail
Like low-downs agreeing to let down the men
And lift not the bale.
It is them I believe
Will clothe up the bare.

When I hold up my arms,
No one is there.

--Keddiz




Tuesday, May 13, 2008

The Chron in the Cubicle

Wha' you do all day in your cubicle?
Truly your jobs AIN'T too suitable.
Inserting figures into their database?
Givin' your brain thoughts much too commonplace.

But,
You'll read The Chron. of Higher Ed.
Sitting by an orange in a paper towel.
Lunch to digest, but energy dead,
Dead as the message boards. Muse on tao.

Cube life, very poor choice considerin'
The wings of Quetzlcoatl aren't flitterin'.
No one's holding a gat to my retina,
But I'm the admin in charge of us gettin' a

Copy of The Chron. of Higher Ed.
Next to my Catbert Post-It Note set.
Dissolve to black. I'm in the red.
Revolving door option now bowed to debt.


--Keddiz


Friday, May 9, 2008

A trim. I am preparing for only a trim.

You Husk and Shell

Vict'ry is between my teeth.
I will make you cry and yell.
This is not the life you want
But here it is, you husk and shell.

I care not of resolution.
The future can be bent and stabbed.
I'll repent when all is over
'Tween a pair of thoughtless laughs.

Down your tongue, Socratic juggler.
In your mouth, my William Tell.
This is not the life you want
But here it is, you husk and shell.

--Keddiz

Thursday, May 8, 2008

Misfortune Most Personified

The burden was published.
The brazen were readers.
Keddiz, depleted.
Love is subjective.

Look what has happened to me.
Look how aware I was this whole time.
Listen to the debutantes and you will gather
The drift and the druthers that I dreamt for Danners.

Survey the bit rate.
Sample and skip out.
Centennial augurs a day of no consequence,
One that can be eternally capitalized on!
No more Danners.

--Keddiz

Monday, April 28, 2008


An important photo.

The next entry you'll find to the left is "The Side Entrance," another demo in a convenient file form. It represents the sweat of Les Debutantes.

I'm particularly sad on this day in light of those people in my past and present who selfishly step on me in honor of their emotional failure.

--Keddiz

Friday, April 25, 2008

Centennial (Mentennial: The Mirror's Gaze)

In Fall of 2006, Centennial was released. The album, which took three weeks to write and four to record, contains several songs. The following is a demo from a convenient location. One of many demos that might end up on Centennial (Mentennial: The Mirror's Gaze) [i.e., Trixie's Pot Stickers], The Share Of The Tab was written especially for the content therein.

--Keddiz