Finally got around to adding some of the newer pieces to the art gallery. I have some updates planned that have been brewing for awhile but I’m not sure when they’ll roll out yet. In the meantime, here is the creation I made a few days ago for my good friend’s wedding. His name is “Sharkovitz” and her name is “Czarnecki” so I give you: The Czar-Shark.

This is an interview Tessa did with Bob, an hour long sort of biographical interview about his life.

[audio:http://maurydegeofroy.com/Radio/tessa-boblee-final.mp3]

The 8 Year old boy lost in the Boston Marathon Bombing.
This donation site was made by a friend of Martin Richard’s family. It’s legitimate. If you have the means, please consider contributing something. It’s a very simple process. http://richardfamilyfund.org/

Pieces commissioned for The Ape Woman: A Rock Opera by May Oskan

You may have noticed, if you’re someone who looks at this site ever, that it has been down for several months. This was due to some technical difficulties that weren’t as easy to resolve as expected. Anyway, the site is back now, and I’ll be updating very soon with some new content… maybe even a redesign if I get ambitious. Thanks for looking!

Album coming in a couple months:

Graveyard Cats is May Oskan and Ezra Lowrey

Update Again: Hear the whole album on Soundcloud

Update: Hear the first track from Nina’s new album!

[audio:https://maurydegeofroy.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2011/09/01-All-Your-Own.mp3]

Poster Design:

Rifle Girl by Denise Orzo

Nina’s Soundcloud

New Piece (to be featured in the upcoming WVVY Silent Auction 9/15/11):

And here are the stream of consciousness poems I wrote to fill the image:

standing

teeth bared in

a wooded alcove under

the mud wriggling between

toes feet soaked and hair sweaty

all things amplified by wrought

forces, under and over within without

so simplified for a union of me and

you never          questioning devotion

alpine                raced and floating

happily defined by

motion

 

 

—–

 

solder and

coils of fed fish

frightened but not afraid

for long with so many right

filled requests and no hard

money to take and rebuke what

is so underexposed reasoned with

and copulating why try to prevent

the best things are saved for last

where ever you can

float and dry your

eyes

 

————–

 

i can almost

taste the

wounded

soldiers

one by

one

 

———-

 

that’s a

good way

to go just

like that

don’t stop

keep pushing

go on

 

——

 

a thought you

couldn’t be without

within over told and magnified

so questionable and undersold

mischievous rationalization

whatever words you speak they

will always love you but better

not to know the passive ways

of avant garde pop syncopation

told rather infatuatedly

could you even read the

words printed under

foot prints and tray

tables in full upright

locked position

 

 

———-

 

be well cold

dinosaur and fruitfully

multiply without haste and

division, silly things will not

prevent you from taking what

is yours, from opening the wounds

and spotting the passive fighter

in the window of the doorway

hope you can defeat your

prisons without mutual

disgust and frayed edge

meals on wheels over

under everywhere you

go hard in the paint ninja

 

———

 

we remember doing sordid things with passionate night time stabs in the dark cove red in roses and stamina, charging the passive with criminal acts and flooding our basements together in solid unrest, the hopeful methods with which we acted were all but ravenous for the flying underscored changes in our minds, happenstance and copious amounts of liquor kept us alive and kicking, feeding out egos and selling so many souls for the cost of a bottle, wrestling our happy faces into the ground with little more than a beacon to see in the sky  right    as rain and left as something to seethe over. welcome back to the cottage                         of the sainted and stolen candy wrappers all blown sideways by the                    sound of the implosion, no confused messengers to stifle our riding                           our hunting, our freedom it was not a           dream it was as real                        as the painted sky glowing with the water                   in the sun                           not questioning where we came from                        or where we                   were going to go next. holy and unfathomable                   so pure                   so wet with glory, trusting in all who came       before            and all who          would come after. the tessellations brewing their own good features and getting         ready to eat hungry wafers of grey cardboard flavored mouthpieces all lined up           and looking the same as any other day never confused and never disordered                              but ever questioning the mettle of the    few who reached                                     for them in this state constricting and cordial whilst                                              stuffing faces full of crackers and cheese   hopeful for                                         a reunion of sorts so soon

 

——–

 

it got to be in those days that you were always looking for a way out, the crimes you

dreamt but never committed would be staring you in the face and you’d have to confess

to sins you didn’t commit. hardly a way for a man, woman, or child to live, but circumstance

had it’s plans for us and we had no say in the matter, it would all go as planned. so

many of us tried to escape only to be caught by the guards and beaten within an inch

of our lives, holding on with nothing more than a thread and the light in our eyes we

tried and tried to see the good in our captors             but they could be so cruel and

heartless that we found we had to just lay                     down and take it, there was

no recourse. eventually, some of the men                       came to us with a plan to

break loose,           and we entertained                              it seriously, it looked

like a viable               option at the time                       they wanted to blow a hole

in the prison                      wall with                          some home made explosives

and they                               were confident           that this would work. we said

we were                                 in and from            there we waited, all the while

trading cigarettes and favors for each other            nobody wanted to be the first one

through the hole, it was a terrifying prospect         but eventually we settled on little

steven, he could move quickly and quietly                             and so he seemed to

be the best choice   when he scouted                                     out the scene and came

back with good news we all rejoiced                                       and readied ourselves

for the escape, soon we’d be free                                         to drink and eat and

be merry, all at our own bloody                                            free will. rejoice! we said.

 

———-

 

we fell

in our

holes no

answers

to our

questions

all just

over and

under

and sold

to the

wind this

time I

asked and

wondered

if it could

come true

for all of

us today

and it could

they said

it could

so we rejoiced

and held hands

and sang out

to the wind

to the sky

where it

would come

next

 

——–

 

the liars

know what

is coming

for us

for them

for the

rest of

things

they turn

so easily

without

question

without

seeking

the answer

or anything

but their

own concoction

spread thin

we try to

expose them

but it is no

use their lies

are comedy

to the rest

of the world

to all free

souls

 

———-

 

so many

breaths

always

trying to

free

themselves

 

———-

 

skin of the

night all

red with

exposure

combed

lightly

over

 

——-

 

the

earth

moving

underfoot

birthing trees

their limbs

rise         high

to the sky

without

questioning

their

meaning

only being

as they should

be with a silent shout

to their own to

their young

 

————

 

start

asking

for

what

you   want

start

taking what

you need

don’t

settle

for

what is

given or what

you are told to

require it is within

your means

to take more

 

————-

 

the        office

in which i work is housed

in a tall, slender skyscraper in the

middle of new york city and we routinely

head to the rooftops to throw papers

into the sky and watch them flutter

down to the streets below. our parties

are spectacular, like nothing you’ve ever

witnessed, raunchy sex and strobe lights

no one leaves unaccosted, no one escapes

unscathed. ready yourself for the event

we run down the halls with abandon

completely ready to escape our day to

day lives and do something unprecedented

and joyful, blissful, unattainable by

normal standards. ready yourself for

the flood, the water of humans building

up behind the doors ready to explode

outward in a crashing spectacle

of glory        and light and

power

 

——-

 

something

tells me you’re ready for

the next step, to dive off this cliff together

and fall into the ocean and swim until

you reach dry land somewhere a million

miles away from here. we won’t stop

until we get there and we won’t get there

until we’re ready and we won’t be ready

until we’ve defeated the evil, all the demons

that hide in the lamp lit caverns under

our dirty feet. sweat beads on my fore

head as i think about the next step to

take the next leap to make and i’m now

disassembling my thoughts and turning

them inwards until they can be seen

like a beacon in the sky like a flare

shot into the wind and blowing back

to shore and it all escapes me freely

without a notion of intensity

with free falling guiltless pleasure

 

———

 

downward

we travel

south into the open sea

boarding our boats and

feeding our cattle preparing

for the oncoming floods

the vast sea looks ominous

and i fight my mind to

comprehend it’s ferocity

it’s facility. i wash my

feet in the water and

dip my hands in the

sand building castles

from the drippings and

taking my time to understand

the methods of the water

the folds and creases

in the sea all facing me

like an origami motorcade

 

——-

 

hold

tight

to your every day ocean

to your snow globe full

of fresh blood and passing

fears they will not open

you or spread you on

the rocks without your

permission you must

comply and keep the

engines running so we

can make our escape

tunneling through the

skyscraper visions and

stopping for no one

and nothing except our

best and brightest cascading

lights in the skies alone

 

——–

 

the jocular passion of the night watchmen who

tell us tales of preening children overwrought with frenzy

about the latest toys and cold brothers who took our greatest lessons

from us and spread them thinly across the floors of our school

gymnasium, we never leapt from our places for fear of the headmaster’s

ruler slapping, or a trip to the dark room in which she kept the

fearful dolls. holding hands we chased salamanders through

the rotting logs in the schoolyard and we knew, just knew, that

we had it better than those kids in third world countries that

they could never even see the light of day compared to us

we towered above the younger children and pretended we were

videogame characters, end bosses for them to battle and lose to

and their tokens would be taken and spent at the game room

we’d rent them beta tapes of home movies they’d already seen

or even starred in but we wouldn’t tell them beforehand, they were

so gullible and we were so ready to take advantage of that not

like now where all we want to do is help and give a little bit of life

to little bitty lives for all we can do is stare on at their beauty and wonder

how much of it could have been ours if we tried a little harder and washed

ourselves in the fountains the way the birds do. oh what a life to be a bird

to lift one’s self into the air with only the will of the wings, to hunt prey

from above and swoop down to capture your dinner before the others could get

it. our metal skyward monstrosities are so bulky and confusing in comparison

we might as well have fists made of wrecking balls for all the good it does us

why our eyes were placed only in the front of our heads, good question might

it not suit us better to have panoramic views of all we survey, or maybe that

would get in the way of our enjoyment of these moments we share together

it gets so confusing at times, this language of twenty six alphabet symbols all

placed in different orders trying to describe a way of life there must be a simpler

or more complex way of describing things. with numbers perhaps, pi, algorithms, geometry?