June G

   June G taught us how to teach our brains to feel safer emotions than the ones used to early trauma patterns. She said, "Never tell someone they should have done something differently. They could have done it differently, but the 'should' implies that their relationship with their potential to heal themselves was not nevertheless seeking health - and wherever it was has to be accepted as far as they could go at the time."

  

"Dream Big" (2014)

                                    Dream Big

I dreamt of peace until three policemen beat me with a poker

Woke up from that, said, “next time, not so mediocre”

Fell back to sleep...dreamed of his and her more curious as we

The boundaries disappeared yet I felt sweet security

Dream Big

dream large enough to cut the doctrine down to size

Dream Big

no one can blame you for living life that wise

Dream Big

dream greater than the emptiness in sleepers’ eyes

Dream Large

Dream Wide  

Dream Big

Ok. But could right a few that you don’t wime?  Force yourself not to rye-mm!

    Er - gently do a dance in the apartment to cleanse your mind between lines

Dream Big

dream greater than the state you occupy

Dream Big

a fire dragon moves along the ocean waves

Dream Big

so wide the dream remains after your body dies

Dream Large

Dream Wide

Dream Big

Hmmm now I hear the current of my voice here in the song

Spoken word that keeps the linear dimension moving right along

Dream large dream wide dream a tiny little dot

Dream the string that pulls it up without tying in a knot

Dream Big

no one can tell you what their meaning is

Dream Large

larger than the pad that logs your every move

Dream Wide

of freedoms still not yet understood by men

DREAM BIG       DREAM  LARGE       DREAM WIDE

Dream On

long after the old rules have died

Dream Long

and in these dreams we will confide

Dream Big

and on the dipper swing we’ll ride

Hold Fast!     Swing High!       Dream Big

Acrobatics of Compassion

                                         


What you do with your computer tells you what you need to know. You give it what you got.
It computes. This is the Information Age. Up pops onto the screen the information you searched. Facts are a kind of information. Friends are a kind of information. Politics is a kind of information. Religion is a kind of information. Web History is a kind of information.

DNA is a kind of information. The computer cannot replicate your DNA. Your DNA is smarter than any computer, minus the facts.

Professionals rely on various kinds of computers. Mass production is about an array of computers. Speed is a standard set by computers. The only really slow computer is one that's shut off. 

Computers are the brainchild of science and reason. I am not a computer. Reason is way over to one side of my Savivity. I have no reason to do anything today. Athena has no reason to call me. It made little difference to her that she told me the truth the last time I saw her. She said she had not thought about me and did not think of me again until the next time I interjected myself into her life, years later. My friend as a witness confirmed: "Yeah, she's got it going on! She doesn't need you, she's got her designer jeans and that ring on her finger and her little boy in a perfect leather sling strapped to her hip." But someone with an imbalance like mine doesn't use that as an "A-ha!" moment. That should have been a cold shower, wet washcloth and kick in the butt all at once. Instead I looked down and half-agreed until the other half overtook my inner drives again. It didn't take long. Believing in Athena stuck until way after it was too late. The politics of compassion are compassion for the self first in my case. By forgiving myself as much as I can forgive anyone else I might feel good when I do my part for the truly needy rather than feeling like a spoiled child who feasts on spoilt porridge and lives off of hand-me-downs because my self-esteem was never what I thought it was except for when I was 19 and attempting suicide.

chat with George Orwell

JS: George, awfully good of you to occupy the front of my consciousness.
GO: Face it, you deserve it.
JS: Must admit the frontal lobes are winkin' back 'atcha.
GO: The only person you've told a lie to in the last 5 years is your mother.
JS: Yes, and in that case there was no need to apologize!
GO: You are highly transparent.
JS: Oh George, is that another one of your puns-
GO: Rather cunning puns than NewSpeak chat, Sav.
JS: No doubt.
GO: And when it comes to taking responsibility, you've left the blame-sayers in the dust.
JS: Yep.
GO: I want to say from the git-go how sorry I am that no one addresses - nay, even remembers - the vital connection between health, kindness, and natural erectile function for men over 50 you've made and, in your own chaste way, bear out.
JS: Thanks. They really don't know an interesting narrative when they see it, eh?
GO: Let's just say they prefer your patience and compassion.
JS: George, I'm liking you better than your novels already.
GO: brb

GO: The topic is prevarication, then.
JS: Yes, and how prevarication is essential to "player mentality". And how the difference between cruel omission and tasteful silence is an inexhaustible discussion down here and yet a trivial boring matter of degrees to the angels.
GO: "Player" is a word with multiple meanings. I know the sense you describe. Where the difference between life and chess is that chess pieces don't dress up and go out at night.
JS: William S. was writing multi-laterally when he scribed 'the play's the thing'....
GO: Because they are themselves characters in a play? That's reaching. But you do point out to 'play' being centuries older than hustle or con.
JS: Or flim-flam, snake oil, white lie, scam, grift or fix.
GO: All in the game.
JS: Shakespeare also saw through the petty emotional drives behind one's self-legitimated motivations.
GO: Indeed. But he can't stop people from making those moves, can he?
JS: No, George. He's older and more studied than you, and no, you're right. They have better therapies for enhancing awareness now, but somehow matters of conscience remain---
GO: ---as constricted as chess pieces in a new version of the same old game?
JS: George, I wish I had someone as sensitive and wise as you to speak with about all this in real life.
GO: Oh Sav. You're not a child anymore. And playing Horatio to your Hamlet requires a reversal of omniscience. Get thee to a punnery.
JS: I was thinking a woman like Kerry Washington would be that kind of friend.
GO: Who is Kerry Washington?
JS: Not anyone who respects the politics of the English language in American mass media anymore. You've at least been that effective.
GO: Thank Christ.

JS: Anyway, when your own mother plays the omission game in collusion with your sister for 8 months while Fred Daley rewards you for writing a good letter in the Hill Country Observer about big-box stores by publishing in the next issue scum from a guy - like everyone else connected to my case - who is now nowhere to be found - well, it makes you realize that anything you thought people have said about you but not to you for the last 5 years may well be true.
GO: And that most of those things are very good, I have to remind you, John.
JS: Yeah, yeah, I know that's true. That's part of the crazy irony.
GO: It's their problem.
JS: Yes, yes, it is.
GO: And it took Rosey Cross being banned from Esoteric Online to accelerate the justice within your mother's psyche....
JS: Don't remind me about Twin Flame Ascension, please George. Now I'm feeling the weird upper chakra magnets that are the real reason it was just as well to leave me to my taping process all summer.
GO: But you've trashed that cheap recorder now, haven't you?
JS: Worked with it right up until New Years.
GO: And you could have made the same music under more loving circumstances.
JS: I guess.
GO: NewSpeak is a failure, John. The new generation of sensitives hear you, and they are telling you it is not the same as the abbreviated language of chat. You know now about how genuinely shared "group mind" feelings seep through the wires, er- wireless.
JS: My little angels, Google Jiminy Cricket.
GO (nods head and blushes): Yes, "always let your conscience be your guide."
JS: Don't make phony agreements.
GO: Forgive and forget.
JS: Don't conceal. Way back before I'd even formed the concept that I was a Rebel Poet Pollyanna I was reading Barbara Hand Clow. The Star Man's first advice is don't conceal, no need to conceal, you are innocent, you are free. I've never had anything to hide.
GO: You went in the direction me and Lennon and Janov were pointing you.
JS: I sleep well at night. My dreams are not in NewSpeak. Rolling Stone has crossed Sean Penn over as a journalist. If they're reading this, I'm restructuring the offer I made Bob Dylan's birthday 2012 from Water Street: I don't have to achieve anything musically first. I'll sell you the lurid prose narrative. I can change it round, a million pages give or take a few, 'cause i need a break and mom always did say I'd make a great paperback writer.....
GO: Well paperbacks sit in old cardboard boxes, and you have a lot to hide if you're going to let your Google page represent you.

JS: A sense of purpose and a Google page like that are incompatible. It's like my first small victory would be to write, sing, meditate, or teach my way into enough web mentions that the print media of 2011 would fall away.

GO: In my book it always catches up to you. 

JS: Only people who want to know the difference between self-love and narcissism are going to find out. In the big world, the shades in between are where the attention goes. Fashion therapy.

GO: Why do you think your life is an open secret, a legend in the making, a quaking rumor, a throwback to the old-school oblivious to Tik-Tok, Spotify, and the surge of diligence that is about to overtake the dumbing-down we've come to associate with scrolling and emojis?

JS: I don't think that anymore, George. I'm just not sure what to do with myself in the void of that revelation.

GO: I'm not going to send you a Christmas card either this year. It's not that you've been naughty. You've been nice enough. It's that you're too needy. Forgettably needy. Dependent on people to increase the length of your leash by a few drives to Price Chopper or the dentist and back. You don't have a cat, a dog, a wife, an employer, a car, you don't have an heir to your hundreds.

JS: He means the useless LPs.

GO: I mean the dollars you didn't know how to spend.

JS: You mean that there is no young person in my life I can leave any belongings to.

GO: I'll take the last word on this. Which is, that you're safe from the incriminating items on your Google page because nobody bothers to go that far. Nobody needs to follow up. There is no conversation. Tomorrow is the first day of 2023. While your peers retire from jobs they worked their whole lives and turn to things they've always wanted to do in their spare time - things related to their profession in most cases, like the way a philosopher turns to canvas to paint his reflections or a music teacher becomes a full-time performer - you are purifying yourself not only as a vessel for your prayer to future generations, but because you have no choice. 

message from lennon to bowie

     

    
              "Happiness is a Warm Sun"

Touch Deprived

                                                               Touch Deprived  

Left home for an alternate dance family

From a slug to a hug on a loan

I get out of my depth when I’m searching for the steps while I’m talking on the telephone

Acting like everybody knows you

Looking like you’ve never been denied

You’ve told me how alive that you’re feeling inside

Now you say you’re touch deprived

Touch deprived

Touch deprived

Touch deprived

Touch deprived

And there’s nothing else you haven’t tried

Touch deprived

The sea of tenderness

The flow of sweet caress

Of those pleasures we can guess

I would love to take you gently

Dreaming of you sentimeantly

I love the glimpse of your leather

I love the feel of your cloth

Around the room you glide until you flicker to my side

Quicker, you electric moth

‘Cos I’m too scared to ask you for a slow dance

And one kiss would be a roller coaster ride

I’ve shown you how alive that I’m feeling inside

I’ve got to say I’m touch deprived

Touch deprived

Touch deprived

Touch deprived

Touch deprived

And there’s nothing else we haven’t tried

Touch deprived

        

                                                                     worldwidecopyrightSaveLoveMusic, Inc.

                                                             distributed by JohnnyComeLately2015aggressivegentilitycampaignUSA

Earth's ET

                                             

copy #1 sent here

1. Available Only

2. Y'Gotta Have a Gimmick

3. New Music Came to Town

4. Bioenergetic Blocks

5. Taming Oscar Wilde

6. Don't Let Her Drain Ya

7. Angel's Tricks

8. Poverty Machine

9. War Causes

    words/vocals: Savlove              music credits: inside booklet

As a person I've come equipped much like any other, strong in some traits, weak in others.

I'm not the only one issuing back a report. However, I am the only one adapted to synthesize

the songbooks for both parties. Publishers, please call (917)257-2366 or email savlove@gmail.com

to grant permission to have used the following music behind the reflections posted on the analog tapes:

1. Pink Floyd - "Come in #51, Your Time Is Up"

2. Weather Report - "Mysterious Traveler"

    (with additional lyrics by Jimi Hendrix)

3. William Tyler - "Last Residents of Westfall"

4. Booket T & the MGs - "Over Easy"

5. Rolling Stones - "If I Was a Dancer (dance pt. 2)"

    (with quotes by Oscar Wilde)

6. Gabor Szabo - "The Beat Goes On"

7. David Bowie - "Sense of Doubt"

8. Sun Ra - "Saturn"

9. Jimi Hendrix Experience - "Third Stone From the Sun"

Cassettes recorded August/September 2015

Digital transfer and mix by Joel Patterson

Mountaintop Studios

John Savlove is SaveLove Music, Inc. (ASCAP)

                                                                                          

while listeners will have to take the extra step of contacting me for a copy of the CD in its lavender case and chocolate brown print, the "Buddha" song is now available online, along with tons of other pertinent information,

at Esoteric Online

"Fare Thee Well"

                                               Fare THEE WELL

      

It’s John Savlove’s tribute to the Grateful Dead

as sung to Steely Dan’s version of Duke Ellington and Bubber Miley’s

“East St. Louis Toodle-oo”

Fare thee well

You can’t tell

When upon the wheel we may meet again

Roll them bones

Sing me home

Ride me on your wagon to the wind

The barroom scuffle and the poolhall tiff

While I’m in the corner working on a riff

Don’t shoot me I’m a beginner! – one day to be a winner-

I’ll pay you back further on down the line if

Stagger Lee

Would let me be

The Candy Man and me make three

Cut my deck to the queen of spades

But the cards are all marked everywhere in Chez Hades

You might as well living in the cold dark hollow coalmines

Tell the queen of diamonds by the way she shines

There’s nothing better than a ripple in a creek from

A giant sober footfall

That can put me on the first train out of my

drunken enchantment with jacks, clubs, kings

stains on the barroom floor that speak of secret things

Half a cup of rock and rye

We’ll all know, bye and bye

girls in scarlet magnificent clothes

with bells on their toes!

If memory serves me well, we’re sure to meet further on down the road

Provided your wheel does not light on fire, and you do not explode

Fare thee well

You just can’t tell

Where upon the wheel we’ll meet again

Negative Affirmations

I am not flying under the radar -

The radar picked me up long ago.

And I do not harness light like a laser

Or know anything you need to know.

I am not a victim of omission,

Merely forgotten with no malice towards me ... 

So relative to this world of conditions

I am exactly where Le SaveLove should be


I do not speak smoothly.

Children, dogs, cats, and people on the street do not respond naturally to my warmth.

I could not trump Trump with my ability to replenish standards of language.

I present no alternative to violence and hot-headed behavior in general.


negative affirmation #3,9456,~783!//x//:

I do not have the time to inspire an audience,

nor does America want a comedian such as I, with the time,

at this time.

open mic night 2015

                                             Pay to Play

(sung to the tune of “Yesterday” by Paul McCartney)

Pay to play

It use to be you played for fun you say

To sing covers you must hideaway

Either that or pay to play

Suddenly

We don’t sing the songs we used to play for free

My half is paying for the royalty

Pay to play is not for me

There’s no      copyright

On my songs, and there’s no way

I’ll write           one so good

That I’ll charge you all to play-a-a-a

Pay to play

Cafés clubs or bars or cabarets

A classic song is sung so spirits raise

They weren’t meant for pay to play

Don’t believe in Pay to Play

                              {a gift from John to standard bearers everywhere. And yes i belong to ASCAP}

the AC trilogy - III

To tell you exactly what I feel in unquoted dawn,
in language plain as a teacher of elementary math,
where on her chalkboard a plus appears and then is gone,
her students moved less by numbers than, in passing, a laugh,
a confidence returns them to the abstract
division, which for them is still a game, not sense.
Words are in my sunrise, blacked
When for me, formless, language offers no defense.
Multiply the feeling left by the subtraction
But with what, if not words, or blood, or integers’ quartz crystal
or anything that might take the place of action?
Slowly dew collects beneath the flower’s pistil.
A man alone is reduced to just a fraction
Of the one needed to make his work greater than distraction.






(2007)

                                                                                                               

the AC trilogy - II

For such an all-consuming,
pervasive everything,
God is too short a word.
The word for God should have
at least twenty-five syllables,
so as to remind all who utter it that their God is that of other galaxies,
of every stone.
That is why I know I love you.
I do love God, but God alone is too big for all this
just to be about that.
I know that when I think of you it could not only be
a metaphor for the grand unity,
the one syllable,
god.
My love distinguishes itself among other instances,
radio cardio
thrill of sensing it is you.
God of Diastole, God of Systole
together we search the lonely kingdom for traces of goddess.
Virgin Parthenia, it is I
your mirror!
Assassin for the gentle and true
hashshasheen to the lazy Tantrix
razor blades sheathed at the tips of my petals
In the long grand line of epic tales real people
are created by this writer we call God
and those who believe
make a name for themselves.
God has already helped me plenty. But I still need you!



                                                                                               


                                                                                         SAVELOVE
                                                                                               2006

the AC trilogy - I

                                    “Taggin’ Along with Sav’s Old Siren Song”

What I wouldn’t give

for soft kisses in the night

for confidences, tight

for whispers in the year of my love,

no mister shaman.

for whispers in the ear of our love

No.

for the lore of j’te adore

Sorry mister, but you’ve already gave all.

You’re the bloody Beloved boy

What I wouldn’t give

for a festival of trees

for public ecstasies

Instinctual ideal vision unto practical world peace.

‘Twould still have its series of imperfect robberies

Like the hearts yet to be taken from a million unhatched mes.

Hungry god, hungry goddess

We shall pour our paint on canvas

Beloved lover, lover beloved

We shall live the rhymes of jewels before us

                                                                                                            (in the wee hours of April 10, 2005)