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

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

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.

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--------------------------------------

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

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

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

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.

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

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.********

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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