The Silence that I carry when we speak

THIS will not do
what do you take me for?
this idiocy IS maddening
I will not comply
WHY should I?
when your hate,
YOUR bitter dislike
your thinly veiled contempt
threatens to suck the LIFE out of me
and boy!
DOES it ever sear at the "propriety" that masks it
I do NOT play this game
and frankly...
this fracas is resolved in my head
now to make action sync!
I never signed up for this
...and that's all I shall say on the MATTER

Carl-Anthony

My Sacrilegious Rendition of only one verse

This is by Civic ethics not done, But I could not at all resist it...the church was empty and I just...I just had to...the process to do this was...wow, tedious but it took 20 mins, two borrowed phones and a lot of projecting, but the church BLESSEDLY carried the reverb well...hard part was synching up the recordings...which was a huge fail but the opp wont come again so...here it be-eth, My six part (ATTTBB) of the Anthem's first verse (with so much interlapping you may never tell the lines apart, lol)
Enjoy and feedback Appreciated!
Carl-Anthony

so I have discovered the motherload of Voice Student Coyote Memes!!!

Short Story again...

So, I WAS going to write something personal...but then I do as I always do when I realise Ive gone too deep, and end up avoiding self probing in favour of something light...Here Goes

“In May…I remember…roses…”

“Must be nice, to remember” I mused aloud, as I stood in the kitchen, snatches of Mrs Harcourt’s garbled musings floating by on the air, her haunting voice still sonorous after decades off the stage. It has been my weekly duty to maintain the home of our neighbourhood’s ‘sweet old lady next door’, often foregoing the awkward social dance of adolescence so wholly embraced by everyone else my age. I had stepped in for a glass of lemonade, and a brief respite from the summer sun’s fierce onslaught as I toiled at the flower beds beneath the Porch and front windows.

“Oh, and dancing! Such delightful dancing that it was as if we moved on clouds and not the flagged stone floors of the great hall…”I poked my head in the sunroom, where she sat on her spindly chintz armchair, a delicate demitasse poised at her lips for a dainty sip. She looked absently at the table before her, on which she had arrayed her complete discography, then to the chair identical and opposite her own.

“Then when they had announced that there was a starlet amongst the crowd, such a twitter rose around me, whisperings and murmurings as everyone tried to figure out who the celebrity was. I was tickled pink,” here, she hid a giggle behind a tiny palm. “Though outwardly to my escort I feigned displeasure at the loss of my privacy…” I observe her beatific smile in profile, blushing as my presence went unnoticed.

“Mrs Harcourt? Are you okay in here?” just my first time, and I hated this; intruding on her reverie. Though her daughter insists it was not healthy. In my opinion, if it makes her happy, doesn’t she deserve to do it?

“Oh Anthony, I didn’t hear you come in, I’m just here regaling Ms Bradbury about the early days of my career.” She gestures to the empty armchair opposite her expectantly, turning her head in that slow graceful manner. Thus gently imperioused, I turned, and in my most polite voice uttered:

“A pleasure, Ms Bradbury, how are you this fine afternoon?” I looked in earnest at the armchair, as if, for all intents I were really seeing her interviewer.

“I am just splendid Anthony, My dear friend Agatha speaks quite fondly of you. How are the camellia’s coming?” so utterly shocked at the response I dazedly look back at Mrs Harcourt, on whose face is the most puckish grin. After a growing silence, in which I contemplate my sanity, she asks, still with a glint of mischief in her eye

“Well? How are the new darlings of my garden Anthony?”

“They thrive well.” I answer, my voice suspiciously thin. “The grafting was successful, and they should be budding any time now.”

“Oh, I am glad to hear it, I do so look forward to my visit next month.”

“Next month ma’am?” I quickly turn my gaze to the armchair, then shift back to Mrs Harcourt in three quick volleys, my confusion growing.

“Yes, it’s why I called, I had just come back to the states and thought to chat up Aggie here, one thing led to another and now we’re still here talking, lost to the past. Forgive us old ladies our long reminiscences.”

“That’s not the reason for our dear Anthony’s bewilderment I’m afraid.” Said my host, impish with delight. “He seems to have thought, and I assume with influence from Sarah, my eldest, that I was engaging myself-or worse, some invisible entity- in avid conversation!” Ms Bradbury makes rushed breaths that I slowly come to realise is laughter. “Oh, but you should have seen the look on his face as he said good day to the armchair!” she again daintily giggled behind her delicate hand. I shook my head and politely withdrew from the room, an embarrassed chuckle escaping as I opened the doors back out onto the lawn.

Just me and some seconds of Vocal Madness

So, a "resolution" of mine is to finally stop being a coward and become the first (or one of the first) Jamaicans (who still reside in Jamaica) to contribute to Eric Whitacre's Virtual Choir (this one's VC4) If you want to know more about Virtual Choir and probably try submitting and joining yourself click here. so yea, to this end I've made a SHORT foray into just singing again, I sight sang two bars of music for four vocal parts, SATB and layered them... and here you go!

Look to the new Year...

I looks amogst the things I have written over the years and I find a promise I had made to myself in 2010...I share it as my first post of 2013 to set the tone for my year




it is said that wisdom is gained when one untethers the future from the past and resolves to just live life...while that is do-able and can be laudable, I find myself at an impasse...i can let go of the hurt, release the anger, doubt, scorn, disdain, antipathy, corruption...the list goes on, but why should i relinquish the good memories? of laughs stolen and shared, good friends, good times, of fun formative experiences as mischief of youth becomes bane of maturity?...the answer is simple...happy memories have the same amt of power to hold us in the past and cloud our judgement...they can make us naive, stubborn, idealistic....which are good in moderation, but can all to easily be to our undoing....the question I raise is why bother? after one has expended all this effort to "live life" what comes next? do we really start to "enjoy" the experience? who's to say that one was not already doing so? why are we so caught up with "optimising life" that we forget that we just need to LIVE IT?




so i'll "live it"I will read and dream- to keep my mind alive and nourish my sense of emotional jointure with the worldI will sing- for my sanity is above all thoughts of my inadequacyI will dance- for physical catharsis is liberatingI also shallReflect- if one does not look back one loses the lessons needed to go forwardReform- innovation is needed in order to stay afloatPreserve- for one cannot in changing to adapt endeavour to lose oneselfConserve- Possibilities are infinite, but in the grand scheme i am frail and finiteObserve- if it becomes a nihilist battle, one needs the strength to walk...