Hide & Seek

It took over a month for Isatella & the Master of the Silver Catfish to emerge from their boreal surroundings so I am calling this one "Hide & Seek." Perhaps my most whimsical watercolor yet...

Eye Land

Sometimes I think about this very old alien Muppet trapped on a tropical island playing an ethereal accordion. Sometimes I can't get his haunting music out of my head. Is it a self-portrait? Maybe, but not mine. I mean it is the nature of art to blur reflection and introspection. It is at the heart of human nature to define your own reality. All art is a self-portrait in one way or another.

 

Open Mined

"Open Mined," digital art by M. D. Friedman

Annie's Song

This is my first flute recording written to help with transitioning from my dear cousin Annie's death at the early age of 60.

Algal Bloom, a Digital Painting by M. D. Friedman

The inspiration for this piece came from being locked into an eye to eye connection with an alpha frog in a nearby wetlands. I was enjoying the connection, feeling his wildness, as we somehow morphed together in a primordial forest, very peaceful yet somehow always underneath what I normally perceive as the wetlands...

More at www.mdfriedman.com.

ice, an experimental video

M. D. Friedman added his original Theremin composition , Amusement Park Accident to the sound track of his Ice dance screen scape video with significant synergistic effects to make this enjoyable experimental video a stand alone experience on July 9, 2013.

The Ice video was conceived as the projected video backdrop for Lines, a live, multidimensional performance of original poetry, music and dance by M. D. Friedman, Roseanna Frechette & Mila Popovich. The performance was a featured at the 25th Annual Poetry Rodeo on April 19, 2014, at the Mercury Cafe in Denver, Colorado.

You may download the spontaneous theremin composition, Amusement Park Accident, at http://www.soundclick.com/bands/page_songInfo.cfm?bandID=628389&songID=12719119&showPlayer=true

You may download Hand in the Machine, an entire album of M. D.'s spontaneous theremin compositions, at http://maddogfriedman.bandcamp.com/album/hand-in-the-machine

Please see http://www.mdfriedman.com  to keep up with M. D. Friedman's latest creative projects.

universal

seed lit grass

nod in

eager waves

 

bend in

wind

now and again

 

same breath

pulses through

each of us

 

no matter

how old

or alone

I Forgot What I Was Saying

Vintage, Analog, Improvisational, Experimental, Aleatory 'Lectronica Featuring Mad Dog Friedman on Theremin created, recorded and uploaded on July 1, 2013.
In case your player isn't playing try this direct link: www.reverbnation.com/mdfriedman/song/17841083-i-forgot-what-i-was-saying

wings of haiku

lonely wasted heart seek your ancient home inside uncover your joy

marble-fisted doubt open to the shards of glass diamonds in the light

The Price You Pay

 

"The Price You Pay," a tribute to those still trying to overcome the personal devastation resulting from Katrina.

(Support this project. Purchase this track at maddogfriedman.bandcamp.com/track/the-price-you-pay.)

 

www.reverbnation.com/mdfriedman/song/16367812-the-price-you-pay

That Girl of Mine

Hope you enjoy this simple soulful, love song...

Support this project. Purchase this track at maddogfriedman.bandcamp.com/track/that-girl-of-mine.

A Quote of Note

"If it was not for open mics, I' d be dead." - God

Love Poem

Think those thoughts not encased in
language even angry dogs understand.

Broken Haiku

embrace

the shade of

the moon

is full

of itself

the joy

of empty

The End

New song I just composed in celebration of the end of the Mayan Long Count Calendar and beginning of the golden age humanity.
Happy holidays and to all a good night!

Sell your beats online at ReverbNation.com

© 2012 by Mark D. Friedman

Never Too Old to Slam

http://www.reverbnation.com/mdfriedman/song/15241849-never-too-old-to-slam

Never Too Old to Slam

I'm not too old to slam,
Because I need
Now more than ever
To spill this truth:
The older I am,
The more alive I feel.
I am a tattered
Paradox of passion,
A dying ember
Eager to explode
Into flame.
The anger that has
Raged inside me
For so long now
Holds up a giant,
Final fuck you finger
To the flaccid face of fate,
Raises up its hissing head,
And spits its cobra venom
Into the great sucking
Eye of death.

It's time for me to slam it
Down. I'm finally old enough
To really say what I mean,
And not give a shit what people think.
Look into the mirror of my words.
If you think I'm less than I am,
Because I look older than I feel,
I'm talking to you. There is
Nothing left but the truth.
I tell you this because
I'm done with blame.

Look at me,
And if you see yourself,
It's because we are the same.
I may finish before you start,
But we all run the same race.
For how long or at what pace
Doesn't really matter.
It's the human race,
And we have no choice
But to run and run we do,
And no one running
With their heart open
Ever loses, and no one
Reaching for more
Leaves empty handed,
And not a single stride
Goes to waste.

It's time to get down to it,
Our forever is now and
Forever changing into then.
Nothing you can say
Makes it easier to die.
The truth is simple.
We're lost without love.

As long as I'm alive,
I'll never forgive the greed
That rots our world,
That nips our heels
And turns our Eden
To wasteland,
Nor will ever I abide
The hate that
Rips apart our souls,
If we don't take a stand.

We are a bursting
Supernova of love,
Silhouetted by
The lightening
Of our desire.
When we smile,
We shine more brightly
Than a billion stars.
When we grieve,
It is a hurricane of pain,
A deluge of hurt without end.

My brothers and sisters
Are of all ages.
Together we are more
Colorful than the fish
that glide among the coral,
More tenacious than wild thistle.
Together we wield the power
Of the human heart,
There's nothing more potent,
Nothing we cannot overcome.

I'm not too old or too white to slam,
Because I'm half African,
Half Asian, half Jew, half Arab,
Half indigenous, half developed,
Half wild, half dead, half human,
Half animal, half budding green,
Half dark night,
I am the dawning
Half bright half-light,
My live is more
Than half off over,
But my half-life is infinite,
And I've half a mind
To leave this half assed
Country if there was
Somewhere else I could find
That was half way decent.

No, I'm not too old, too white
or even too straight to slam,
Because I'm half man,
Half woman, half gay,
Half lesbian, half trans,
Half willing, half-witted and halfcocked.

I'm always halfway between
Myself and somebody else,
And always some when
Between now and again
I'm on my way to being me.

Being alive
Is all about connection.
Nothing else matters.
There's nothing evil, nothing
Wrong, nothing about you,
Nothing inside of me,
Nothing human I cannot love.

My brothers and sisters are misters
And misses, and men who love men,
And women who love women, and men
Who were born women and women
Who were born men, and men and women
Who are both or neither a man or a woman,
It makes no difference.
How much I love you
Has nothing to do with your color,
Your gender, your dress,
Who you fuck or how old
You aren't,
But with who you are.
It's all about the joy
Of you becoming you.

I know now I'm not too old
To slam because I still can
See the beauty inside everyone.

I know no matter
What we think we want,
Or how hard we try
To be someone else,
We can only ever be
Who we really are.

I'm not too old
To slam because
I'm not too old to love.

I sit on the ragged
Edge of death's bed.
I blink and gulp the light
Like a goldfish gulps for air,
And decide each morning
To get up and live,
To love and become,
And choose not to
Sleep beyond the darkness.
If my heart is still beating,
I open it.

The longer I live,
The more I have
A need to give.
The more I give,
The more I have
to live for.

I'll never be
Too old to care,
Never too old to slam.

Surfer Girl

Here's the song I wrote in Paul Riesler's Song School class. It was based on the story of another student. We all traded stories and then wrote songs about them. I wanted to try something new and break out of my 12 bar box. Please let me know what you think.

 

http://www.reverbnation.com/play_now/song_14337406

Here's the lyrics: 

Surfer Girl

Stay away

Please stay away,

Poison love

kills more each day.

The sea inside

red with pain,

bites her skin,

cuts

through

again.

Stay away.

Please stay away.

Needs your love,

she pulls away.

Dressed in black,

black fingernails,

smeared black lips,

down

she

slips.

Catch the wave

that comes to save.

Learn to ride

that place inside.

Hold the gold,

make it stay.

The surfer Girl

is born today.

On her board

she caught her wave,

matters not

what the ocean gave.

She can fly,

turn herself around,

land like a kiss,

feet

on

ground.

Blackened shell

shed that night,

colors bleed

from broken light,

digs her hand

into the sand,

her aqua eyes,

dance

with

light.

Catch the wave

that comes to save.

Learn to ride

that place inside.

Hold the gold,

make it stay.

The surfer Girl

is born today.

Girl Braiding Hair

Girl Braiding Hair

She combs her hair as if to untangle
the tussle of his touch, powders plum skin
still stinging from his grizzled tentacle,
over is over when the pain begins.

Elderberry lips are smeared red to hide
the ache, and the baby that was to be,
a hated thing, no longer lives inside,
over is over, at last she writhes free.

Emerging from tide pools, how her eyes swell,
gleam blue, brim briny with bright tears of no;
her anguish, a warped lens, a fractured shell,
over is over wherever she goes.

Easy enough to layer a right hand
full of hair limp on the wild red rope held
snug by left, hand upon hand upon hand,
over is over, when love's flame is quelled.

Not so simple now to grab another fist
full of life, or to be braided again,
when what blooms and wrenches within is missed,
over is over when twisted hurt ends.

    

I chose to write on “Girl Braiding Hair” because I have always been haunted by the sensuality of Renoir’s work. According to Tama Garb, the renowned art historian, Renoir was known as "above all, the painter of women." The women he painted were often pictured as simultaneously innocent, provocative, pensive, alluring, enticing and unattainable. Perhaps it was these qualities of feminine allure and beauty that inspired Robin Dodge to create “Girl Braiding Hair” after the fashion of a Renoir woman. It is also such qualities in women that inspired poet, W. B. Yeats, to some of his greatest work. Although I admire and have always been inspired by the fine craftsmanship of his poetry, I have never attempted, until now, to write in the style of W. B. Yeats. It was, therefore, a wonderful challenge to have this opportunity to seriously emulate this poet I have always believed to be one of the greatest of all time.

A Good Frame of Mind: Featured Artist Mark Friedman

A Good Frame of Mind: Featured Artist Mark Friedman

Order any on my work custom printed and framed at American Frame!
http://americanframe.blogspot.com/2012/05/featured-artist-mark-friedman_02.html
Btween now & May 15th get 10% off any prints by using the code "E5A5OFF". Please let me know if you order so I can send you a persoanl thank you!