Get all 49 Mad Dog Friedman | Mad Dog Blues | Peddlers of Joy releases available on Bandcamp and save 30%.
Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of Love Poems, Wonder Moments, Into Light: Poems of M. D. Friedman - Studio Favorites, Into Light: The Poems of M. D. Friedman, Into Light: Poems by M. D. Friedman - Volume Three, Into Light: Poems by M. D. Friedman - Volume Two, Into Light: Poems by M. D. Friedman - Volume One, The Mad Dog Blues Duo Live at the End, and 41 more.
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1. |
Prelude for Two as One
02:25
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2. |
Two as One
02:31
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Two as One
Through different eyes we see the same,
not the waterfall, but the water falling,
turning weightless, and in this moment
finding its own shape,
no longer formed by gravity.
We turn our gaze and see together
how the sinuous rock walls
and the fingers of the trees are fluid too,
how it all shimmers and sways,
a rippled mirage whirling
back into sudden clarity.
We find our own shape,
here on the edge of this liquid cliff,
gushing with the splash and clamor of the falls,
flowing in and out of each other,
like breath, two as one.
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3. |
Hambone Rondo
00:45
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ham bone ham bone don't be slow
ham bone ham bone where you go
ham bone ham bone where you been
around the world and back again
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4. |
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5. |
Know Where to Go Crazy
05:38
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I’ve been here before,
where the rain cuts through like shards of glass
flattened like a mirror
drives me deep into the mouth of fog,
breath still
frozen, frosted with lacy flakes.
This is nowhere to go crazy. this is where
When I move again, I return to somewhere,
anywhere there is something. the hand opens
I’m done with that circle of tears
where dark fears fall from a lightning cracked sky.
to heal the pain
It’s over. The only way out is in. let go
There is nothing to say. It’s time to leave.
There’s nowhere to go, so I’m off.
fall through the light
It might as well be a picnic,
with this frayed tablecloth
I keep in my back pocket to blow my nose.
sears away the fears
There is nothing to take. A bleeding
wafer of heart between two loaves
of breath is all I need. a simple flame
I linger in the ghosted meadow.
My soul in its blue bottle
stirs the rocks to breathe. your ghost wicks up
I want only to blaze my own way, all the colors inside
to climb my high green hill
where each star shines alone.
Sure, I’ll miss the warmth of the crowd,
the hungry fire never feeds
the clap of strangers bumping into me, but
the broken music takes me now, ears stuffed into brain.
breathe and be taken in
No time to stay. No reason for more of the sane.
My screams fall like paper. I leave what is left
for another to write. no wind flickers flame
No desire for the ashes of this burning world.
My breath fogs my glasses.
In a dark way, I am filled with light.
heat that doesn’t burn
I am ready. I’ve had no sleep for weeks.
My eyes open from looking inward.
fall into the spiral of your own eyes
I have sharpened my teeth.
feast upon the rhythms of your heart
Inside, it never changes. Every way I turn
leads back. I awake ever closer to sleep.
you bleed a light so subtle
The edge of my dream cracks with beauty. i wish you could see
I wish I could take you. Here in the middle
of nowhere, there is so much to share.
you are
The silence shatters into light. here
It is a miracle just to be alive.
It is a miracle.
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6. |
Slow Blues in A What
02:52
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to do what
to do what what
you want me
you want me
to do it
to do it to it
what what what
it is
it is
it is it
it is done here
there there
hear now
where is it
what it is
two to do
when we do it and
do to it what we do to it
here it is
here here here
now it is what
now now
what what what
to do what we do
from here to here
it is what it is
it is what we do
when we do it
if we do do it
before we blew it
before it’s even due
I will do it to it too
to do what I do
from here to here
I will it to too
I will it to do it
all the way through it
to do what we do
too blue to undo
what the what what
done
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7. |
Inside Connection
02:02
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Flash
flesh
infatuate
frustrate
liberate
in relation
inside connection,
outside
delusion without hesitation
binaural masturbation.
Inside
the desert blooms
sacrificial sand
kills time in the hourglass.
Without haste
a wrinkled face
settles into place,
choreography
calligraphy
sacred empathy
spontaneous symphony
sodium allergy
in synch out of time
grinning ethereal
resonating endlessly.
Please, at my frequency
embrace the heart
with kindness,
light the fire
with delight!
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8. |
Hooked
06:38
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Hooked
It is not because no one is home
that this thunder leaves me uneasy.
Rain chants its mantra of falling
no matter what comes to mind.
The rain dashes by like a cat, and the thunder
growls like a dog pulling on its chain.
Water moves, always wearing down,
dissolving whatever is in its way.
Me, I stay put. I could be a tree
how casually I wait for the storm to pass.
The thunder stutters now as if to say,
"Enough already." A muffled squall
rages inside me. It rains here all the time.
The wind pushes the tears back into my eyes.
I open and close the dark window,
open the window because I need to breathe.
I groan in a dialect of thunder no one understands.
Like a drunk stumbling home, I bellow and bawl
until there is nothing to say, until I black out.
I am as hooked and mangled as Hemingway's marlin.
This is what it is like to be old, to be afraid to climb.
(At the top of the tower, the ever turning light
makes a shadow out of everything in its way.)
Once the water, heavy from its journey,
comes to rest, it returns to the purity of the sky.
This is the teaching of the rain, the meaning of our breath,
take in deeply what you may but remember always to let go.
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9. |
Forever Trespass
06:26
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like someone
could own this
sure
it changes
with each step
I walk in
not so
you would
notice
not all
at once
this land
possesses us
the sun
cracked creek
it eats my eyes
underneath
the marbled light
fish trespass
the turbid stream
swollen
from my melting
words run
the poet
wind me up
like a toy boat
this is why I
am possessed
these hungry words
the roiling red juice
pours from my bones
and I drink
of myself
my breath becomes light
my living
yes
the bright air
owns this body
as it
rides the blood
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10. |
The Long Drive Home
04:52
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The pavement is not real.
The stars, like salt
spilled on black velvet,
show no sign of life,
stare like glass eyes from space.
Sugar Blue whines
and growls his hollow ache,
moans his hot harmonica wind
through brass and plastic,
charges the vacant night with longing.
Everyone who
ever plays, stretches
for that note
missing from the chord
that binds us.
Sugar digs it out, slams it
down on the rough road
like black ice, scrapes
it against raw face
like sandpaper.
Inside the wrenching bend
cowers a persistent yearning,
a burning loneliness that drives
each fragile breath
we pass from lung to lung.
We roll alone down this road
of night that never ends,
tumble like a cage of seed and thorn,
from deep within our pain
a stout and solitary joy begins.
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11. |
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12. |
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Never Ask a Poet Directions
- for Jared Smith
To start with
don’t walk too fast.
It is best to lean
into each step
so as to feel the ground
move you.
Circle to your left
under the pitched arm
of the burning tree twisting
its flames toward the fired sky.
Don't forget to duck.
This way you may
enjoy the exquisite
pain of your passing
again and again.
It might go better yet
to model Alice
and make yourself
very, very small.
It may take most of your life
to cross the footprint
of the mother raccoon,
but do not look back
upon a path glittered with regret,
lest you fall like tears
from the eye
of your own making.
When you find that place
where her sharp claws
have punctured the dark loam,
stop and rest.
You may even need to sleep
before you go on.
Most do.
You will know
when you are ready:
the warm heave
of your breath
will wake you. Of course,
it is always dark.
When what little light there is
films the rounded stone like milky dew,
it will be time to move again.
Follow the ragged ravine
winding to your right
as if you were water.
Do not fixate
on the wiggle
of your falling.
Remember,
there is nowhere
to fall but down.
As you catch the hang of it,
you will begin to roar.
The clamor of everyone
you have ever known
will be echoing
vociferously inside you.
A few lusty
cries will rise
from this surge
only to resubmerge
just as they start
to make sense.
You will not be missed,
though it will seem
like forever
you are gone.
Eventually,
things settle down.
You become as flat
and smooth as
a velvet pool
in the moonlight.
There is nothing left
but yourself
as far as
you can see,
and still you
expand.
You will know
when you arrive
because it is like
you have never left.
Ask a poet
directions, only
when you realize
you have
no place
to go.
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Mad Dog Friedman | Mad Dog Blues | Peddlers of Joy Lafayette, Colorado
Mad Dog writes from the moment and sings from his heart. His influences include sources as divergent as William Butler Yeats & the delta blues. His songwriting is sincere, simple & often humorous. He has recorded many solo & collaborative projects featuring his spontaneous compositions on harmonica, Native American flute & Theremin. He is also the founder of Mad Dog Blues & The Astral Project. ... more
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