Stop Headlight Blinding - July 16, 2008
Does anyone care?
Don Alberts: Journal
Books- - March 24, 2008
First Edition copy of "The Rushing"
http://www.lulu.com/content/2024540
"Small Unrested Desires" Now in wide distribution.
http://www.lulu.com/content/99428
"Ancient Warrior" Poetry-1995 to 2005
http://www.lulu.com/content/1219572
New Poetry: "Absolute Time"
http://www.lulu.com/content/902738
"Play Melancholy Baby" Short fiction.
http://www.lulu.com/content/432346
http://www.lulu.com/content/2024540
"Small Unrested Desires" Now in wide distribution.
http://www.lulu.com/content/99428
"Ancient Warrior" Poetry-1995 to 2005
http://www.lulu.com/content/1219572
New Poetry: "Absolute Time"
http://www.lulu.com/content/902738
"Play Melancholy Baby" Short fiction.
http://www.lulu.com/content/432346
Where do kids get guns? - January 20, 2008
Where do kids get guns? Really? Can they also get Plutonium? Come on!
Bad Boys - November 27, 2007
"Bad Boys" Russo-Alberts Trio-New CD will be published the first week on July. Be sure to get yours. Featuring: Don Alberts, Don Russo and Art (Shakai) Lewis. You will find it on CD baby and at many download sites. Excellent! www.chillhousemusic.com
www.simsroadmusic.com
www.simsroadmusic.com
Sister site - June 21, 2007
Don't forget to visit our sister site at: www.chillhousemusic.com
There you will find CD's to buy and Downloads of song for iPods.
There you will find CD's to buy and Downloads of song for iPods.
New DVD - June 21, 2007
"Russo-Alberts Trio Live at Kuumbwa" This new DVD is set to hit the TV airways on Public Access TV in the Half Moon Bay and Monterey area. Stay tuned!
Big Bands - June 21, 2007
Big Band charts for 16 pieces! Don Alberts has been writing big band charts for Contemporary Jazz Orchestra and Marcus Shelby Jazz Orchestra. Contact: Guestbook on this site for more info.
Jazz Composition Volume 8 - June 21, 2007
New book-"Don Alberts Original Jazz Compositions Vol. 8" in now available at lulu.com
Order now and have shipped to your door. www.lulu.com/donalberts
Order now and have shipped to your door. www.lulu.com/donalberts
New Poetry-"Absolute Time" - June 21, 2007
The new poetry collection from Don Alberts is available now at lulu.com Follow the link to get yours.
http://www.lulu.com/content/902738
http://www.lulu.com/content/902738
169 Russians - March 22, 2007
169 Russians
The ordinary skies held soft clouds
and a lazy sun dozing over the hills
with the sounds of children’s voices
home from school,
on an ordinary afternoon...
A quiet among the lifting
of souls from earth to heaven...
169 Russian passengers
carefully finding their way up
on an ordinary afternoon...
between the white clouds, edging past,
their grim despondent faces and torn clothing,
mothers towing children along by the hand,
not seeing, not looking,
not feeling, anymore...
And why do I see them..
a shuddering possibility
that I need to know of this...
Have I felt them because
I cannot lightly accept
the news of such terrible loss
with mildness...
And that I have often felt my tears
with a single soldier’s death,
and that no life is justified to take...
The passengers have gone now,
all have crossed the weightless sky
as my tears blur the sun
to splinters of rainbows..
The determined one in front
was the pilot, clenched fists
and torn epaulets,
knees up running, the way
Superman leapt over tall buildings
into the sky...
Everything would be done today,
the intake of names, the orientation,
and a blanket for each one, a place to rest...
and tomorrow the search for relatives...
then a hot bath and one of those
long white robes before
going to the meeting...
And why have they crossed my heaven,
past my cedar trees and fresh Jasmin,
my hummingbirds, and the pear tree,
through my soft clouds,
where the sun shatters the light
through my eyes
to broken glass...
Together they glide along
huddled and collected,
down a long white hallway,
until I can no longer follow,
and I lose them with
my lack of privileges...
And now the children are singing,
and there is laughter,
on an ordinary afternoon...
Don Rio August 2006
The ordinary skies held soft clouds
and a lazy sun dozing over the hills
with the sounds of children’s voices
home from school,
on an ordinary afternoon...
A quiet among the lifting
of souls from earth to heaven...
169 Russian passengers
carefully finding their way up
on an ordinary afternoon...
between the white clouds, edging past,
their grim despondent faces and torn clothing,
mothers towing children along by the hand,
not seeing, not looking,
not feeling, anymore...
And why do I see them..
a shuddering possibility
that I need to know of this...
Have I felt them because
I cannot lightly accept
the news of such terrible loss
with mildness...
And that I have often felt my tears
with a single soldier’s death,
and that no life is justified to take...
The passengers have gone now,
all have crossed the weightless sky
as my tears blur the sun
to splinters of rainbows..
The determined one in front
was the pilot, clenched fists
and torn epaulets,
knees up running, the way
Superman leapt over tall buildings
into the sky...
Everything would be done today,
the intake of names, the orientation,
and a blanket for each one, a place to rest...
and tomorrow the search for relatives...
then a hot bath and one of those
long white robes before
going to the meeting...
And why have they crossed my heaven,
past my cedar trees and fresh Jasmin,
my hummingbirds, and the pear tree,
through my soft clouds,
where the sun shatters the light
through my eyes
to broken glass...
Together they glide along
huddled and collected,
down a long white hallway,
until I can no longer follow,
and I lose them with
my lack of privileges...
And now the children are singing,
and there is laughter,
on an ordinary afternoon...
Don Rio August 2006
God on my iPod - January 23, 2007
God on My iPod
When I decided I wanted
God on my iPod, everything changed...
Because God is very personal to me,
something direct and accessible with a few clicks.
There with my music and video
I could have God to look at and listen to,
my own private place,
with a color picture of Jesus
and the Ten Commandments
to look at whenever I wanted.
My private God, and my Jesus...
And I thought of how it would be
to have God on my iPod...
Would it be warm, and have a new glow,
and would it click faster
and come on and off when it wants to?
And I might say to a friend,
“here, check this out.”
and they might say, “
Wow, awesome,.”
or nothing.
You have to believe.
The big question is,
“where do I get it,
where do I get God for my iPod?”
Can I download it for 99 cents
from Apple iTunes,
or get a bootleg copy
for free from Napster?
I wonder if God
will have to be re-formatted
to play on my machine,
or is God the machine?
That’s it.
You can’t download God to a machine
because, God is the machine,
and I am God, and so is everyone else,
Still, I wish it was true,
if its God you want,
he’s already in there
moving around through your files,
and flowing onto your hand
and up your arm,
and through those tiny wires
to your ears, and you are glowing.
Now, are you happy?
Don Alberts January 2007
When I decided I wanted
God on my iPod, everything changed...
Because God is very personal to me,
something direct and accessible with a few clicks.
There with my music and video
I could have God to look at and listen to,
my own private place,
with a color picture of Jesus
and the Ten Commandments
to look at whenever I wanted.
My private God, and my Jesus...
And I thought of how it would be
to have God on my iPod...
Would it be warm, and have a new glow,
and would it click faster
and come on and off when it wants to?
And I might say to a friend,
“here, check this out.”
and they might say, “
Wow, awesome,.”
or nothing.
You have to believe.
The big question is,
“where do I get it,
where do I get God for my iPod?”
Can I download it for 99 cents
from Apple iTunes,
or get a bootleg copy
for free from Napster?
I wonder if God
will have to be re-formatted
to play on my machine,
or is God the machine?
That’s it.
You can’t download God to a machine
because, God is the machine,
and I am God, and so is everyone else,
Still, I wish it was true,
if its God you want,
he’s already in there
moving around through your files,
and flowing onto your hand
and up your arm,
and through those tiny wires
to your ears, and you are glowing.
Now, are you happy?
Don Alberts January 2007
Up in the Night & Tall October - November 23, 2006
Up In The Night
No voices outside,
just the open world breathing
with a quiet wind, cleaning itself
while nobody’s watching...
and the trees are taking their baths,
and the dahlias with their closed pods
are hanging like lamp posts sleeping...
while you, with a soft snore
rolling across your pillow
are dreaming in your next life...
And the fish are in their cove
until the first shimmering light
pierces the depths where they hold...
And I think of the bold taste of spiced cider
to chase away the dry mouth of sleep
as I listen to the cello of Yo Yo Ma,
and think, who wouldn’t want that
in their dreams...
And a jazzman packs his trumpet away
in the case and clicks it closed
as he has done a thousand times before
after playing a night of fast phrases
and high notes, filling himself with the
satisfaction of a few good solos,
all the while, wishing it was better...
And the waitress, that thinks he is the
greatest thing she has ever seen,
would go home with him
to his tiny apartment
if he’d just ask...
Don Alberts 2006
Tall October
Amid the thinning days of October,
I stand above the precipice of
the valley of time...
And the decanted sun
deepens the shadows
and elongs my form to
the tower of a giant...
And isn’t it true,
that October people,
have always waited long
to uncover their lives,
to begin only after others
have sped over the horizon...
October people are patient,
declaring themselves only when fully ripe,
the last golden pear on the tree,
rich in color and brilliant against the winter sky...
And isn’t it so,
that the August bird of plumage
rises above the earth to enter the sun
as a fated moth to the flame
to be transformed and eternal...
And isn’t it so,
that in the crosshatch of days
we find ourselves swimming in the sorrows
of our leader’s who began too early,
uninformed...
And the cliff of loneliness,
is dark where the sons of countries
have fallen amid the searing lines
that carry a day into night
and flood our memory
with their faces...
And while the earth is resting,
gliding like a ball on the sea of India,
Africa, lifts its ancient
mask to the sun,
and the heavens send
a fiery ribbon of stars
to fill the cups of roses...
Don Rio 2006
No voices outside,
just the open world breathing
with a quiet wind, cleaning itself
while nobody’s watching...
and the trees are taking their baths,
and the dahlias with their closed pods
are hanging like lamp posts sleeping...
while you, with a soft snore
rolling across your pillow
are dreaming in your next life...
And the fish are in their cove
until the first shimmering light
pierces the depths where they hold...
And I think of the bold taste of spiced cider
to chase away the dry mouth of sleep
as I listen to the cello of Yo Yo Ma,
and think, who wouldn’t want that
in their dreams...
And a jazzman packs his trumpet away
in the case and clicks it closed
as he has done a thousand times before
after playing a night of fast phrases
and high notes, filling himself with the
satisfaction of a few good solos,
all the while, wishing it was better...
And the waitress, that thinks he is the
greatest thing she has ever seen,
would go home with him
to his tiny apartment
if he’d just ask...
Don Alberts 2006
Tall October
Amid the thinning days of October,
I stand above the precipice of
the valley of time...
And the decanted sun
deepens the shadows
and elongs my form to
the tower of a giant...
And isn’t it true,
that October people,
have always waited long
to uncover their lives,
to begin only after others
have sped over the horizon...
October people are patient,
declaring themselves only when fully ripe,
the last golden pear on the tree,
rich in color and brilliant against the winter sky...
And isn’t it so,
that the August bird of plumage
rises above the earth to enter the sun
as a fated moth to the flame
to be transformed and eternal...
And isn’t it so,
that in the crosshatch of days
we find ourselves swimming in the sorrows
of our leader’s who began too early,
uninformed...
And the cliff of loneliness,
is dark where the sons of countries
have fallen amid the searing lines
that carry a day into night
and flood our memory
with their faces...
And while the earth is resting,
gliding like a ball on the sea of India,
Africa, lifts its ancient
mask to the sun,
and the heavens send
a fiery ribbon of stars
to fill the cups of roses...
Don Rio 2006
Everything Needs To Be Sold - April 22, 2006
"EVERYTHING NEEDS TO BE SOLD"
POETRY BY DON RIO
Everything needs to be sold,
I am so stiff and old,
tired and creaking,
damp and leaking,
sodden mass, a dim green light
beneath the rags of silt...
An eye nearly out,
a breath in the whiskey wind,
and nights thousand thoughts of demise,
of unaware doom in the hand of Morpheus.
the night raps at my door wanting in..
Simple walls impervious
to all but spirit that needs no door,
no invitation nor right of passage,
awaiting some defining event.
Yet, to slip the loop would be grand,
to elude the chasing tether of my harness,
and glide serenely away,
attach to the dock of a distant port,
begin a new name,
and release all appendages
of former selves,
ply a brilliant existence among the few,
the enlightened, the scurried, the infinite sharp,
a chameleon within the simple minds,
where fear is not familiar,
where light is the chase of darkness,
and its vaporous kin,
where the gates of optimism
stand wide before a day,
and apprehension lies deep,
below the mobile efforts of prosperity..
Ah, to rest there,
in activity and promise,
fill the heart with all that fills,
with thrills,
with satisfaction and taste,
with wine, with peace, with vision,
with distant hills and silvered streams,
and fond hearts,
and swim the voids of age and misuse..
Rest face up on a grand rock above the sea,
where the great birds will shred me to the wind,
somewhere beneath a sunset sky..
POETRY BY DON RIO
Everything needs to be sold,
I am so stiff and old,
tired and creaking,
damp and leaking,
sodden mass, a dim green light
beneath the rags of silt...
An eye nearly out,
a breath in the whiskey wind,
and nights thousand thoughts of demise,
of unaware doom in the hand of Morpheus.
the night raps at my door wanting in..
Simple walls impervious
to all but spirit that needs no door,
no invitation nor right of passage,
awaiting some defining event.
Yet, to slip the loop would be grand,
to elude the chasing tether of my harness,
and glide serenely away,
attach to the dock of a distant port,
begin a new name,
and release all appendages
of former selves,
ply a brilliant existence among the few,
the enlightened, the scurried, the infinite sharp,
a chameleon within the simple minds,
where fear is not familiar,
where light is the chase of darkness,
and its vaporous kin,
where the gates of optimism
stand wide before a day,
and apprehension lies deep,
below the mobile efforts of prosperity..
Ah, to rest there,
in activity and promise,
fill the heart with all that fills,
with thrills,
with satisfaction and taste,
with wine, with peace, with vision,
with distant hills and silvered streams,
and fond hearts,
and swim the voids of age and misuse..
Rest face up on a grand rock above the sea,
where the great birds will shred me to the wind,
somewhere beneath a sunset sky..