Showing posts from 2012

Life During War Time (*)

They traded blood, bled, leapt hurdled, in war, toiled Thundered subtle, explosions rubble erupt and boils Flanked frigid conditions, crossed covert, admission where seas froze Invaded nation’s capital, caravan arriving in droves Misfit miscreants they flicker like a fire fly they can stimulate the facts til they simulate a lie left the cocoon in ruin, spurned from the flame of confusion tapping the light as a wheel in the spoke promising fire then exhaling smoke. Embracing the action, mere fraction of faction, poised penitent pose In assassins pace, soldiers faced fetid burnt skin loose hue of rose Pre-emptive mental lapse, hands clasped elapsed fast as fingers exposed Attack from treetop canopy lands enemy, as battalions camp quiet below Misfit miscreants they flicker like a fire fly you can stimulate the facts til you simulate a lie left the cocoon in ruin, spurned from the flame of confusion tapping the light as a wheel in the spoke promising fire then exhali

All Things Considered (*)

All things considered I've had some lessons to learn bridges to burn, fences to mend seas to churn, ends to meet, rules to bend i'v been sailing tides til they turn All things considered the world is bitter small determine the splinter with large heights to fall enter the dragon cautious to imagine lights in flight, all in all to crawl, odyssey of withdrawal beg knees to the floor bruised feet kick the door as it swings shutting out opportunities for more (refrain) All things considered I implore keep arms stretched out for your next chance to draw conclusions from a war mind mental strains thinking that invasion's a cure of minds that are pure primary colors rising from the shore create a fortress of solitude, demanding attitude waves crashing along a different lattitude asking questions like how you do when answers teeter further from the truth stepping out of my own telephone booth worries tear me apart like like a lions tooth guid

Media-ocracy (*)

Now that I've Battened down the hatches patched up these holes with patches removed all the pins from their latches and though I've just run out of matches, so flint and friction can't fashion a blazing inferno reaction you shouldn't be knocking my actions I've formed a marvelous faction bought a large patch of land for really nearly a fraction of the price they were askin all because of my smoke and mirror distractions and because the economies static It's at night that I invite all the riots you incite with your fires burning bright stoke the passions to excite casting words that we recite So now you know what all the facts is Veering towards these fabulous action packed reactions deteriorating mental lapses here to capture all your tracks in careful sewn tight packages turn these thoughts into actions into visible mental images succinct visionary visages glistening burning bridges after removing all their hinges on destructio


I've rambled roads just to scramble outside in the cold and living in Shambles preambles what's told of wretched and heartached in fables of old where the actor just fails to carry the load But I pick myself up and I'll turn the next bend where one road begins, they say, another does end and the last thing I wanted was to be here again but the first steps the hardest in the midst of the rain My worries don't fade with the shade of the clouds and the voices speak loudest when they come from my mouth but I wouldn't seek shelter from meancing doubts cause the voice seeks the choice that I'm worried about But I pick myself up and I'll turn the next bend where one road begins, they say, another does end and the last thing I wanted was to be here again but the first steps the hardest in the midst of the rain So in shambles I scramble for the thick of the storm but the shadow in the distance takes a meancing form and I searching for blue skie

Mt Fuji

I've been avoiding disaster, trailing crafty as ever upping the ante, sleight of handing the master mistakes that talk tough, crack up and laugh at her, suspects sure to grapple the laughter that after the night's tryptych light strike might stand up and matter Confused, what you say in that way may trigger disaster. I'm as overdue as Mt Fuji this lava flowing through me my eruption all consuming people flee in frenzy my destruction will up-end thee tectonics plates are truly the catastrophic heathen bully with trampling feet, mobs turn unruly unrest the population thier main stay relation with the doom we prevail on those below our trails and hills ruin will soon be the morning after as crafty as means taking over my laughter sung down hill and faster storming rain in the hereafter

My Partial Autumn

Oh, and again with those dandelion hips and a now crushed tulip plant, when will they ever learn. Curtsy for the courtesy, to a young chap, chaps wearing and flirting with you young Mol. And again, as you bent down, the lowers of that flowing dress muddled and muddied in the dirt, transpired to convert the pink laced bottom to evil brown, and mitigating black; oh the coniving, territorial dirt from the ground whence it came! But you flirt factitious and and then facetious you ask, how do we all do; who's for the truth, baby, it's your fire, I hope you don't get burned. Oh and thoughts quelled at the pass beyond summer's last vacant face; out which beyond, one falls over edge to maiden space! I might have lost once, and was crushed by the weight of frayed sunlight, yet in it's grasp I was trailed to peaceful slumber atop dusty, wood floors. In my minds eye, hurling now, I spied two dogs from my periferal, in my position, hands and knees, the crackle of a r

long beach ramble

Before the Quatro de Julio Jones Beach show my girlfrien and I wandered over to Long Beach to catch some rays, trying to take advantage of the beautiful day, the festive nature of things and utilize our tour run for more than just phish shows.             We roll into Long Beach and after skillfully navigating the parrallel and perpendicular streets that run all the way to the high rises that line the beach proper, we eventually score a choice spot a block and a half away from the boardwalk.             Knowing we might have to cough up from dough in order to bask in mother's nature's bathtub, we sauntered towards the water, and thought we had found stealth way onto the beach, when all of a sudden, a kid (who looked more like a homeless person at first, begging for change) looked up at us and began to speak. (I was certain we were being petitioned by a lost soul for a few spare schillings) But no, this person was the beach monitor, sitting next to a closed kiosk, surveyi

Passage At Sea

I look back upon the wandering life I left sqaundering, pondering the path I blazed in this trampled dream expound upon memories that intently seem farther from memory, extra-sensory parts of whole but split at the seams ripped from the middle and torn far from me hard for me, interconnected arteries that hardly seem part of me and when there is fog it is hard to see the mist that surrounds it is haunting me taunting me, i'm fragile though agile, and its calling me like I've parted the ocean but then turn to see the waves coming over to swallow me the shadows they cast seem to follow me my voice shrieking hollow in mutiny in this instant my life seems to abandon me certainly, vicious attacks seems a certainty fervently, urging for solace not sympathy impotent limping to higher ground, to shore from sea blazing the trail I grasp avidly, screaming back at sea salt stinging cuts, blood traces tears so its hard to see latent, I bellow in agony, patiently g

Puma Passion

Matthew Golia Branch Manager 514 Bridgeport Ave  Shelton, CT 06484 Dear Puma, My name is Matthew Golia and I have been a fan of your product line since 1995 when I was a young boy playing basketball in your Puma Super Baskets Mid in Navy Blue. At the age of 15, with my peers gracing the court with Pump Action sneakers, Air Bubbled souls, and mounds of leather, plastic and suede weighing them down, I graced the hardwood, sans sock, with my foot and ankle wrapped in an Ace Bandage sporting my Pumas; I felt as if I was harkening back to the days of the mid 1900's, when an Athlete's style sprung from their moves made on the court, which in turn brought attention to their feet, not the other way around. It is that minimalist, yet timeless style that I feel has helped Puma to endure, while cultivating a mass following with unique takes on the color palette, turning heads with it's brimming style. As I have grown into adulthood, shifting further from da


With these words I ignite fires, recited to majesties and sires by jesters in their courts required to incite riots, their humor, anger thwarts tends to smolder funeral pires But its my desire to perspire, in this lyrical attire like a top hat, and my pumas the statics hectic now sinking in the mire I shock like I'm electric stammer like I'm wired, perpetually inspired like a groove that requires, a little hi hat but no driver by the likes of the mainliners that shoot through my desires like blood coursing through the veins of the those that sit higher floods forcing their stream through the levies and the bayous but my label is not dated and I will never expire. this Philosophical misfit, gets mis-fit, and mis-hits attempts a quick fix he uses bandaids on liquid, like insider trading for stock tips, he gets dismissed as a lyrical conniption fit, unfit for this gig, is mis-judged and blows his lid bliss follows en suite and leads to him quitting his e


DC(ARE)U KIDDING ME! by  mgolia6 , June 09, 2012 12:16 pm       Opening day for sports fans pales in comparison to any organized religion. So for those of us that covet Phish's music with the intensity equivalent to sacrilege, Tour Opener couples the excitement of gorging after a long and spiritually cleansing fast, with the pit of the stomach excitement of the Christmas Day!             My mind's cogs and sprockets, wound to precision, become a proving ground, and I lurk these battle grounds for memories of past tour openers. I hold the Island Tour Opener as the first of life stand of shows, and while I try to not compare 1.0 with it's ladder day brethren, I will employ the same Logic that helped me "wrassle" my way through a Philosophy Degree: use similar data to compare (so that your thesis can be summed up in less than 100 pages)             Bethel Woods set the stage for a weekend of improvisation that, we thought, would be a new beginnin


BETHEL WOODS: PRE-APOCALYPTIC GAMEHENDGE by  mgolia6 , June 15, 2012 12:42 pm       It wasn't until Memorial day of 2011 that I first encountered Bethel Woods. Built on the historic original site of Woodstock, I was introduced to this venue as the opening run of Phish Shows 2011. One week before the shows I scored a room at a bed and breakfast, the Lazy Pond, in nearby Liberty NY. This review begins with the back roads winding entrance to the back side of the venue, veering through the roads of Upstate New York that fell in love with during college many years ago.             As this was a three show run, and allowed us to really settle into our temporary home, we revelled in the beauty of the campus the bed and breakfast was built upon. Strolling around the multi layered facility, we interacted with other fans, fraught with anticipation of Phish's opening run for the summer 2011.             Arriving at the back entrance of the venue, we were forced to tra


SKIN IT BACK, AND WHAT DO YOU HAVE, A WARM GUN... by  mgolia6 , July 03, 2012 9:52 pm       Phish began their east coast return in style and much of what is conjured of Little Feat is that gritty primal urging instinct to something that feels wrong yet so right. (Heroin comes to mind, or just the act of shooting up- sorry for the buzz kill) But when Happiness dropped, presenting the same theme as Kin it Back, just in a completely different platform, I was all smiles. I had to skin back (yup, i went there) my expectations after what seemed like, and was a four minute Tube, hoping, like the Halleys that dropped later, we were in for a loop session and start stop jamming that lingers on the forefront of my mind as soon as the opening lyrics of that song are sent hurling from the stage. But with Trey working off effects alla Camden 2009, that jaded sound that lulls one in and makes them feel invincible and vulnerable all at once, we were certainly in for a fully formed ent


JONES'N FOR THE FUNKY BITCH by  mgolia6 , July 03, 2012 11:55 pm       I wasn't surprised when I got to JB, all wide eyed and mind staring at the phallic symbol that rises from the atlantic coast. Beyond the second lots rising dune, and brush, Shakedown blossoms with gnarly characters that, in my day to day life, I would most likely reject, like myself, from my own store front sure that they would "shake me down" for the keys to my chalice! Quite the adventurer, I wandered to the female dominated port-o-let, line where I was met by hostility. Boys can do it outside according to these female centerpieces. Cordially I wandered to the ocean, intent on baptizing myself with the Atlantic's sperm laden rip curl. Mass bulk chronicles of the ocean's capturings, having risen from the murky depths, flooded the shore, and page's key work could do nothing to keep them from blogging the scene with their tweets, face book status changes, my space update


THE BAND WHO STEPPED INTO YESTERDAY...AND BEYOND by  mgolia6 , July 04, 2012 11:29 pm       Tonight, honestly, I wasn't sure what was going a good way! My girlfriend and I had two songs apiece we allowed ourselves as wanting to hear at JB. (we haven't done the SPAC choices yet) and mine were Tube and Alumni. I don't know what it is about the song, maybe the connection to school (pretty sure Trey exclaimed in muted fashion "...from Goddard!") So when I thought my sun-burned viasge would need to sideline himself for most of this show, having expended more energy from my body the evening before, then in the last few weeks, and meandered the boardwalk of Long Beach, then sizzling under the mid day sun for the afternoon, and my dancing legs showed up again, I knew this evening would be special.              Let me preface, yours truly did not bring cash to Long Beach, walked the boardwalk from its beginning, to the Alegra Hotel, whose ATM was o


JONES BEACH VIP by  mgolia6 , July 04, 2012 11:51 pm       My girlfriend and I got in to the show on the 3rd early, so there was no line in that congested culling of attendees that first night, just smooth sailing, and ease of use entrance going. So after peeling ourselves away from the bed of our Pick Up Truck Tour vehicle, complete with beach chairs, roller cooler, and a cool 10 knot southerly wind, we meandered the lot, climbed the sky bridge, deftly tackled the port-o-lets (females still angry at the male usage) and approached the Bovine-like culling of humans into a gated threshold we needed to avoid.              This is where the VIP tent tickets ($50) comes into play. We asked a laniard adorned woman what our tickets could do prior to getting into the Venue and she points to the VIP overhanging walkway over to the left of the venue, away from the herding of cattle into frisking lines. We sauntered on over to the smiling crew of worker, wished them a happy quatr


PRESSURE COOKER by  mgolia6 , July 07, 2012 12:15 pm       JIm started off with that old school feel, and while the jam that ensues mid way, typically type one, didn't sprout much past that, Ocelot took that type one jam and extended it with that bluesy saunter that this song exudes bellowing through the amphitheater, or Sonic Sauna, as it were last evening. The heat was turned up once Tube dropped, and thinking, after JB I that I wasn't gonna here this song again, until maybe Dick's, I was thrilled. the groove started early, and with Trey bending those notes into a growl, the band hooked into a four minded onslaught that immediately catapulted into Psycho Killer. With flashbacks of Hartford 09, I knew that this was special, and that the night was early. Bringing the song to fruition and letting it drip into the ether, Tube cam back swiftly, and the band really growled this one out to it's close.              Set one fire continued to burn through the o


MSG'S FACE LIFT...AND THEN SOME! by  mgolia6 , August 26, 2012 7:23 am       (Disclaimer, it does turn into a venue review...I promise!)       I woke up one december...and I realized I loved you! My growing suspicions rumbled to a boil, spilling their froth from the still teetering lid of the cauldron that is MSG, on their way, dousing the jerseys and banners with their wicked slippery paws. Simple words, easy to utter; I am addicted. My name is Matthew and I am addicted to Phish. Who else feels this way; a massive wave of quiet abounds and I am left pantsed and alone in a crowd (with my 13 year old naked legs; pant legs crumbled like Obi Wan on the floor!)              Night one was captured via my pen, moleskin notepad, and two rapidly fading thirty year old orbs of visual sensory; made new by curved lenses and forged plastic and metal-an archaic jerry rig if you ask me.              1. The pen captures the set list. It's ink globules trickle fro


DICK'S NIGHT TWO: I THINK I'M STILL ME by  mgolia6 , September 02, 2012 11:19 am       I don't know where to begin...Many say that you cannot yearn for the past, as you get caught up in it, missing what is right in front of you; myself, like many Phish fans argue the merits, accolades, precision, quality, etc...of "past" vs "present" Phish, even when there isn't an audience. I certainly think about 1.0 Phish and, just like one's mind, unable to quiet a rousing, tangential string of thoughts, I certainly think about past Phish, when about to experience "New Phish".              My point is: it's all that past experience, both myself, the bands, on and off stage, the mixture of music and zaniness, excitement, spontaneity, that has allowed this band to get where they are now (where I an now)and that place is somewhere between elysium and hades.              Antelope errupts from it's low volume first notes, and as