RE-VO

Music:

Member Since: 8/17/2007
Band Website: altavillamusic.com
Band Members: ~ RE-VO: vocals, acoustic and electric rhythm guitars, bass guitar, drums, percussion, keyboards, emu samplers; poetry, words & music; channeling
~ BELA RAY: acoustic and electric lead guitars, telekinesis
~ RJ RAMJET: space kinetic librarian, information officer
~ LY-RA KI, poetess of KALA-BRI: poetry & words, wisdom, RE-VO's life partner, telepathy

RE-VO plays the American Series VG Stratocaster.
RE-VO and Bela Ray use Fender equipment and Fender Stratocasters.

RE-VO plays the E-mu Emulator IV sampling computer-keyboard

Influences: ~RENOWNED MySpace MUSICAL FRIENDS

~MUSIC: Pink Floyd, David Gilmour, Rage Against The Machine, SKThoth, Annie Lennox, U2, Anti-Flag, Jimi Hendrix, Pearl Jam, Harry Manx, Kevin Breit, Frank Zappa, Elvis Presley, Bonnie Raitt, Tracy Chapman, Propagandhi, Gowan (J.C. McGowan), Ian Cussick, Aretha Franklin, Neil Diamond, Beatles, Paul McCartney, John Lennon, George Harrison, Ringo Starr, The Rutles, The Rolling Stones, David Bowie, Reeves Gabrels, David Byrne, Genesis, Peter Gabriel, Emerson Lake & Palmer, Greg Lake, Mike Oldfield, Bob Marley, Brand X, Alan Parsons, Joan Baez, Grateful Dead, Dixie Dregs, Led Zeppelin, Queen, Brian May, Deep Purple, Ian Gillan, Steve Morse, The Police, Sting, Bryan Adams, Elvis Costello, Foo Fighters, Heart, Bruce Springsteen, The Bee Gees, Lionel Richie, The Guess Who, Burton Cummings, Devo, Vangelis, Bjork, Quincy Jones, Billie Holiday, Lenny Breau, Joe Pass, Ella Fitzgerald, Ray Brown, Dizzy Gillespie, Charlie Parker, Herbie Hancock, Nat King Cole, Gino Vannelli, Earth Wind & Fire, Tower of Power, Desi Arnaz, Beethoven, Mozart, Schoenberg, Ennio Morricone, Anna Stereopoulou, Sinead O'Connor, Bruce Hornsby, Linda Ronstadt, The Eagles, Tom Waits, Cat Stevens, Sarah McLachlan, Joe Hill, Woody Guthrie, John Prine, Willie Nelson, Johnny Cash, Bob Dylan, Neil Young, Leon Russell, Leonard Cohen, B.J. Thomas, Roy Orbison

~SPIRITUALITY: Buddha, Jesus, Lao Tzu, Anu, Enki, Zecharia Sitchin
~READ THE DHAMMAPADA: http://www.ishwar.com/buddhism/holy_dhammapada/
~READ THE TAO TE CHING: http://www.taoteching.org/
~READ THE BHAGAVAD GITA: http://www.bhagavad-gita.us/
~READ THE BIBLE: http://www.biblegateway.com/versions/
~In order to understand better a peaceful group of Americans and world citizens who were wrongfully disparaged and oppressed, based on myths and stereotypes, in the aftermath of 911, I strongly urge a careful reading of The HOLY QUR'AN: http://etext.virginia.edu/toc/modeng/public/HolKora.html

~ACTIVISM: Maya Angelou, Gandhi, Martin Luther King Jr., Vandana Shiva, Thomas Berry, Michael Eric Dyson, Ursula Franklin, Malcolm X, Edmund O'Sullivan, William Cooper

~PSYCHOLOGY: David Burns, Michael Beckwith, Bob Proctor, Fred Alan Wolf, Melanie Klein, Carl Jung, Wilhelm Reich

~POPULAR CULTURE HEROES: J.C. McGowan, Kenny Robinson, Diana Rigg, Sharon Stone, Leonard Nimoy, George Takei, Alexei Sayle, Jack Lord, Richard Pryor, George Stroumboulopoulos, Oprah Winfrey, Maya Angelou, Jeri Ryan, Laura Harring, Carol Burnett, Lucille Ball, Jon Stewart, Jon Lovitz, Jeremy Hotz, George Wallace, Charles Nelson Reilly, Paul Lynde, Eddie Murphy, Charlie Murphy, Harland Williams, Dana Carvey, Mary Walsh, Cathy Jones, Andrea Martin, Martin Short, Catherine O'Hara, Dave Thomas, Joe Flaherty, Eugene Levy, Jessica Holmes, Lenny Bruce, Gene Roddenberry, William Shatner, Patrick Stewart, Avery Brooks, Kate Mulgrew, Ian McKellen, Rod Serling

~LINKS to MS POPULAR CULTURE HEROES

~THE AMAZING WORLD of J.C. McGOWAN

~ NEW TOP FRIENDS!!!!
Corinne HectorNephilim WarpDrive OutlawJane Doe SR CelJkl SeanDONNA Leia OrganaAllen StephenNeil Anderson rimpa

Sounds Like: RE-VO!

MY POLITICAL AFFILIATIONS:
I do not believe in partisan politics. The idea of "left" or "right," Conservative or Liberal, creates division between those who could otherwise be like-minded and united together, in solidarity, in dissent against corrupt leaders, and in brother/sisterhood.
I support anyone, of any political party, who advocates world peace, and the systematic dismantling of the Military Industrial Complex.

(Note to Rupert: since the purpose of MySpace is data-mining, please feel free to sell this information liberally to all interested parties. Of course... you will anyway, with or without my permission)

~RE-VO's GALLERY of POETRY
IT WAS NOT A FISH, by RE-VO
I saw the greatest MySpace minds
Lose track of whom they thought they were:
Accountants trying to use Excel
While huffing Mescaline, most pure.
I saw them pull their pants down low
And snap revealing photographs,
While snorting clean Colombian blow
And dissing old friends, just for laughs.
I watched the seers with self-control
Develop strange addictions to
Their self-humiliating blogs,
And busty girlies on YouTube.
But they could not anticipate
Effects of media on rats
Inside a maze of PC boards,
Of pop-ups, GIFs, and Big Six Cats.
Pervasive media are not
Perceivable, without the wish
To know who said, “I think that’s water.”
Simply, it was not a fish.

THE CHENEYWOCKY, by RE-VO:
..Twas autumn, in two-thousand-one,
When we did lose America;
Illusions of the terrorists
Sent the country to war.
"Beware the Richard Cheney, son!
The jaws that bite, the mouth that hurls!
Beware the Wolfowitz, and shun
The frumious Richard Perle!"
He took his Bible in his hand:
Long time the Muslim foe he sought,
So ranted he by the Joshua tree,
And terrorists he caught.
And, as in oafish thought he stood,
Karl Rove, with right-wing eyes of flame,
Came bumbling through the leftist wood,
And outed Valerie Plame!
One, two! One, two! The Neo-Cons
Stole civil rights, and snicker-snack!
They left us dead, and in our stead,
Left only Conrad Black.
"And, hast thou slain the Terrorists?
Come to my arms, my foolish boy!
For New World Order is at hand,”
Bush Senior squawked with joy.
..Twas autumn, in two-thousand-one,
When we did lose America;
Illusions of the terrorists
Sent the country to war.

CAPTAIN ZENITH, by RE-VO:
I have a friend named Captain Zenith,
Hero of nostalgic trends.
Champion of quality,
Those who love him call him Glenn.
He can see into the past,
Returning to enlighten us
About a bygone, better age
When decent people didn’t cuss.
An age when human beings were mindful,
Friends would care about dear friends.
In the modern age, it’s different,
That’s why wise men turn to Glenn.
He’s a man who loves his family,
Cares about community,
Thinks about a better world,
Worries for humanity.
But his faith in God above,
And in peaceful folk below
Will assist the human race,
And, thus, alleviate our woes.
I have a friend named Captain Zenith:
Hero, human, glorious friend.
I am proud to call him brother,
Those who love him call him Glenn.

FRIENDS LIKE ARLEY D, by RE-VO:
If writing on humanity,
I’d speak of friends like Arley D.
A man of loyalty and strength,
A man who’d go to any length
To make his friends feel loved, inspired,
To make his Wanda feel admired.
His music shows his depth and drive,
In songs that make you feel alive;
Not songs of war or penitence,
But songs that strive to make some sense.
It didn’t take us long to know
We’re in cahoots, and he’s my bro.
I’m proud that he’s a friend to me.
A man of peace…that’s Arley D.

ARLEY’s WEEKEND, by RE-VO:
Where’d we be without weekends?
We’d have a week that never ends!
A problem, thus, for Arley D.
And his friend RE-VO. Don’t you see?
There’d be no time to drink a beer,
and we would live in constant fear:
they’d smell the whiskey on our breaths,
and fire us for being undressed
(well, sitting in our underwear
while doing work… our bosses care
about our image on the job)
but we’d forget, and form a mob
of slovenly, unshaven slobs.
We’d have no rest! We’d lose our jobs!
So, weekends are essential times
That offer space between the crimes
that we call “work” (to some, “career”).
There’s 52, throughout the year.
A sacred time to talk to friends.
Where would we be without weekends?

THE SAGA of KROMATICMAN, by RE-VO:
[chapter one]
Kromaticman is still awake,
Creating brilliance on the boards,
A shining light, for heaven’s sake,
Admirers flock to him in hordes.
There is no style he cannot play,
There is no lead he cannot take.
He is the man: the better way,
The real deal… the anti-fake.
Electrons circle round his hands
And guide his melodies through space,
He is no ordinary man,
The guardian of a glistening race.
The artist from KROMATICA
Will triumph in the coming age,
His acolytes will kneel and pray,
When all the world is K-man’s stage.
[chapter two]
The shining man of krome,
Has returned from parts unknown,
Yet he knows he's not alone,
As he reascends the throne.
For his friends are all around,
As he plays electric sounds,
New inventions he propounds,
And his genius abounds.
There is light from yonder space,
Thousands visiting this place,
As the man with shining face
Prepares to save the human race.
[chapter three]
The thoughtful man who's made from krome,
descends to Earth from parts unknown.
His mission is to bring us joy,
and to disarm those who destroy.
He conjures music hypnotizing:
On his Moog, philosophizing.
On his Korg, he sends his love
out to the world, and from above,
the skies will open to extend
divine expression to his friends.
The thoughtful man who's made from krome,
descends to Earth from parts unknown.
And I am blessed, and you are blessed:
kromaticman, his power expressed.
[chapter four]
The Mob-man tips his hat to you,
A gesture forged from brotherhood.
From France to California sun,
He lands his ship in Hollywood.
Through props to Universal City,
Builds Earth's great community.
From house to electronica,
..boards of humanity.
The supermen from future worlds,
The brotherhood of artist friends
Impresses all who witness this,
A sign of friendship, "Till the end."
[chapter five]
"Slow down," he said to silver gods,
Who played too fast inside his head.
"Slow down, how can one drive so fast
or play his Moog so fast, instead."
"Slow down," said he to man of krome,
whose real name remains unknown.
He must be god or angel, he...
The speed of light [infinity].
The fastest man alive on Earth,
the product of electric birth.
"Slow down," he said, "you play too fast!"
With fingers wired with servos cast
of tempered chrome(the stuff of space;
devices not made by our race).
"Slow down, you don't conform to plan!"
"Of course not... I'm Kromaticman."
[chapter six]
Again, kromaticman amazes,
Nay, astonishes his fans,
once again, provoking questions:
is he God or is he man?
With “The Lure,” no human being
can, thus, avoid kromatic draw
to the place of shining goodness,
to his world of shock and awe.
Yet, it is not a violent “shock,”
Nor is it “awe” with bombs and fire:
“Crystal Cells” enlighten humans,
spreading peace and great desire.
Now, his genius is cemented
In the halls of history,
yet, the man of chrome remains
a man of certain mystery.
Still, kromaticman amazes
every human in the land,
once again, we dare to question:
is he God or is he man?
[chapter seven]
It’s true, he is misunderstood,
since he, a champion of good
is always seen as shining god.
Yet, those who know him think it odd:
that avatar we see right now
displays a man of wrinkled brow,
a thoughtful chrome philosopher
with deep and complex thoughts of purely
altruistic caring. He, who’s thought to be
a mystery.
But it is plain to those who care,
we do disservice if we dare
to show kromaticman in only
bright heroic saviour tones.
Since after all, he is a man,
He is our friend, we’re not just fans.
And if we say that we’re his friends,
we’ll know and love him, till the end.

THE MOB-MAN, by RE-VO:
An awesome weekend is ahead,
For one who has tremendous cred:
The Mob-man, Prince of party scenes,
The dude who makes the women scream.
Great music flows for him, like wine,
But peace on Earth's his true design.
A rainbow warrior who tries
To make us healthy, just, and wise.
His plan is great: while having fun,
We'll all find peace, through Mobius 1.

THE SOUL SOCIETY BELIEVES, by RE-VO:
The Soul Society believes
That they can change humanity
Their brothers know that they’ll succeed,
Restoring human sanity.
Their aim is true, their love is pure,
Their psychic powers are growing fast.
They’ve seen the light beyond the door,
They see into the looking glass.
There now are enemies, no more,
But only those who need a hand
In understanding truth and peace,
To liberate a war-torn land.
The Soul Society believes
That they can change humanity,
And I believe they will succeed,
And we will touch eternity.

SOUL SOCIETY ETERNAL, by RE-VO
Soul Society, ethereal,
Searching for eternity,
Strengthened by their meditation,
Ever faithful circuitry.
River surfers casting shadows
Drifting out to meet the sea.
At the shaft of twilight, watch
The brothers save humanity.
My big star will light the skies,
The front trail will the pathway meet,
Soul Society plays on,
Extolling Demeter in heat.
Soul Society, eternal,
Soars across the cosmos vast,
Searching for humanity,
Their hard-earned chance is here, at last.

THE SHAMAN
(for my dear brother, David A)
by RE-VO
The shaman takes the plant in hand,
and suddenly, he understands:
through psychotropic fantasies,
the shaman touches ecstasy.
The way is clear. The energy
of every living being is free,
and I am you, and he is me.
Molecular totality.
The stuff of ancient worlds is now,
embodied in the sacred cow that
walks the streets of Bangladesh,
and in the words that I profess,
he sees that none is everything.
It matters not what words I sing,
for silence is a symphony.
The shaman knows that he is free
to travel far, to distant lands.
The shaman takes the plant in hand...

THE SPARK IS JAMMING, by RE-VO:
"Watch out… The Spark is jamming,
He’s setting Moogs on fire,
The government is planning
To censor his desire.
But nobody can stop him,
He’s out to change the world.
He’ll scale the towers of Gotham,
His U.K. flag unfurled.
KROMATICMAN is with him…
Together, they will rule
The realms of every rhythm,
The tunes of every school
Of music in the cosmos.
The Spark is working late,
To change the laws of Nature,
To change the world’s fate.
Watch out... The Spark is jamming."

THE SPARK, by RE-VO:
As he burns the midnight oil,
See the Spark hard at his toils.
He's creating with his boards,
Playing compound-complex chords.
There is nothing in his way,
As he has so much to say
With his keyboard poetry,
He has come to set us free.
With his friend, kromaticman,
He has come to take a stand,
There is nothing that can stop him,
And the world's at his command.
As he burns the midnight oil,
See the Spark hard at his toils.
It is late, but he works on,
The Spark creates until the dawn.
He plays the boards long after dark.
The man of peace they call The Spark.
He travelled here from outer space,
to save a troubled human race
with music made from cosmic love.
Mysterious man from far above
the Gaian landscape that we know,
extends his hands to those below.
He ventured here, with superfriends,
to help prevented a troubled end
to life upon the planet Earth,
replacing doom with second birth.
He plays the boards long after dark.
The man of peace they call The Spark.

ELECTRIC LADY (Charmy), by RE-VO:
Electric lady, loved by man,
Transforming those who understand.
She steps inside a mural and
Transforms a ship, the sea, the land.
A Charmy muse whose depth inspires
Synthesizers and desires,
Chromatic music, with a K,
And space age thoughts of far away.
A re-vo-lution is at hand,
And she is there, inspiring man.
And yet, her hero’s close to home,
The lucky man remains unknown
To friends who love the lady grand,
To friends who take the muse’s hand.
Electric lady, loved by man.

CHARMY’S BRUSH, by RE-VO
The artist holds her brush in hand
And beauty flows in every stroke.
Electric lady from a land of
Painting, murals, light, and life,
Whose smile lights up the morning sky,
Whose friends adore her, without end,
She is electric muse to all whose
Honor is to call her friend.
Dear Charmy, humble lady fair,
The artisan of cosmic space,
The one whose inspiration causes
All who see her to embrace
Her wondrous visions made of paint,
Her graceful canvasses of light.
Her creativity without an end,
Without an end in sight.
Madly, rushing into night,
Sweet Charmy’s brush prepares for flight,
Like tiny bird when spring is here,
The brushstrokes flutter, art is near…
Tribute to a man of metal,
Or a keyboard, static charged,
All in bloom, red glorious petals,
Tall ship mural looming large.
A bright kromatic state of mind,
Or Jonathan, a gentle giant,
Purple ‘neath the city nights,
An ancient smith, his face defiant.
Spark prepares to leave his orbit,
Soul Society, their hands
Extended like a mystic order,
Strangers in an alien land.
Two are one, sweet love will reign,
And blue notes, happy, will become.
We walk the Venice beach ‘til sunset,
And until the rising sun.
Gently, dancing into day,
Sweet Charmy’s brush prepares for flight,
Like butterfly when spring is near,
Electric lady…art is here…

CHARMY’S WEEKEND, by RE-VO:
Just a brief hello to say
TGIF (a fond Friday).
It is the ending of the week,
yet, just a start for those who seek
to paint, and play an instrument,
or craft a mural on cement.
For these folks, I say "Journey on!"
The weekend is like Avalon:
you know, the place where Arthur went
to heal his wounds. A mystic place
of magic, spirits, mystery, where
Merlin conjured phantasies. It's
plain, to artists, that the weekend
is a welcome, certain godsend.
Otherwise, when would we play?
There have to be some artsy days.
All hail the weekend, Charmy friend,
Electric muse, until the end.

CHARMY PAINTS WITH PEACE
by RE-VO
Dearest sister’s midnight oil,
magic paintings on her mind.
Yet, it’s all a work of love.
Charmy, of electric kind.
Canvases and PC boards,
blurred distinction: paint or tune.
Can electric music be
distinguished from a Celtic rune?
Or from a Charmy work of art?
And thus, Space Artists must persist,
venturing to planets far,
or even into dark abyss
and to a distant, falling star.
For paint is music, peace is light,
Kromatic Sparks are Charmy’s view,
“It’s all the stuff of art,” she says,
“And peace, the medium I choose.”

TEUTONIC JIM, by RE-VO:
Teutonic Jim is always working.
Seems he cannot rest a minute.
Wants to understand existence
And unwrap his place within it.
Knows that music can determine
How his fellow humans feel.
Thus, he labors without ceasing:
Many masterworks revealed.
Multiple electric phrases,
Sequences, and rhythm tracks,
More than just melodic segments,
And mere algorithmic facts.
It is music that has meaning,
Music that inspires dreams,
To transform a downcast planet
Into one with great esteem.
Teutonic Jim is always working.
Seems he cannot rest for long.
Wants to understand the cosmos
Through his deep electric songs.

TEX SHELTERS, by RE-VO:
I have a friend who has me vexed:
He says to me, “Just call me Tex.”
Tex Shelters is his rightful name,
yet no one knows from whence he came.
They seek him here, they seek him there.
The liberals seek him everywhere.
Is he from heaven or is he from hell?
It matters not… his head is swelled,
and he could surely buy and sell
whatever business that you run,
then fire you, and instate his son:
A vapid, wiry nincompoop, with
Texan drawl and greasy goop
smeared in his hair, but no one cares,
Since he’ll convince you that his wares
are linked to being American
(not Communist or from Iran).
He hates the French (and lesbians).
His silly son’s a thespian, who
says Canadians are weak.
He disses them, each time he speaks of
“allies,” with sarcastic tones.
A member of the Skull and Bones,
He hails from Boston, and pretends
his drawl’s authentic. Thus, he bends
the truth at every moment, and
he lies to you, then takes your land.
A right-wing man who’s relevant:
A great big, freakin’ elephant.
Yet, no one knows from whence he came.
Tex Shelters is my good friend’s name.

DEAR MR. OTT,
by RE-VO:
[chapter one]
Dear Mr. Ott,
And what have you got?
A hilarious page of diminutive men
Who are Grey and peculiar
Alien friends.
A simple deduction enables us all
to determine that you
are a part of that call
that is emanating
from beneath dreamland's hills:
in a government secret
to bend human will,
a huge army of Greys
who have already conquered
the nation and country,
from L.A. to Yonkers.
So, dear Mr. Ott,
Just what have you got?
The world, that is all,
And we all thank you... not.
[chapter two]
And, so, Mr. Ott, the
answer is not just to
Arm to the teeth, and to
go underground.
Your people have made us so
paranoid that we will
say we have seen you
and that we were found in some
field with our trousers
around naked ankles: that
Ott and his people were
“probing” again.
Exploring the regions of
certain poor farmers who,
not very bright,
do not represent men of all
types: you’ve assumed we’re too
dumb to defend against
Grey little men in their
Circular disks.
And so, Mr. Ott, please
Consider the possible pitfalls and downfalls of
this urgent push,
Of landing your spaceships in
rural locations, and
studying men who are
dumber than Bush.

OTT's BIRTHDAY, by RE-VO
Hello, Mr. Ott,
I regret that I'm not
Just a few hours sooner,
With chocolates I bought
on a planet ten light years
from Alpha Centauri.
The flowers I got now look droopy and sorry.
Forgive me, dear Ott,
I am late and regretting
I didn't come sooner
for poker and betting.
Your weekly Grey orgy
is now almost over,
and all of your spacemen
hung over or sober.
Yet, here is my wish
for a week filled with mirth
Hey!
Dear Ott, let me wish you
a slightly-late birthday
of happiness, bliss, joy,
and Grey little friends... Yet, knowing dear Ott,
there'll be babes, without end.

THE MAGUS, by RE-VO
I travelled to the inner void,
beneath Mount Shasta, I did stride
to visit a mysterious man,
whom many call a spirit guide.
He speaks in numbers, cryptic, and
refers to wisdom from the past,
but none can gauge his brilliance if
they brave the vortex moving fast;
For it could take a thousand years
to understand a single word
cast from his pen or processor:
One needs to hear that which he's heard.
At first, a maze of h t m l,
Then, a phrase of z o s o.
Who can tell the meaning of
the magic which, through him, must flow?
So, to a subterranean lair,
beneath Mount Shasta, I did go
to visit a mysterious man:
The Magus... and that's all I know.

THE MAGUS CARES, by RE-VO
‘Neath Mount Shasta, things are peaceful.
Magus labours, without ceasing,
solving ancient Hebrew riddles,
wondering why our ruler fiddles
even as his empire crumbles.
Disenchanted, Magus mumbles
paradoxically adoring
blonde FOX pundits some find boring,
while denouncing Halliburton
who, corrupt, it’s almost certain,
run the present government
and yet supply the armaments
for mass destruction everywhere.
The Magus, in his lair, cares
about his fellow man, you see.
Although he seems curmudgeonly,
his strong exterior conceals
a caring heart he often shows.
And thus his friends, who love him, know
The Magus has a heart of gold.

THE TIME TRAVELS of WARPDRIVE OUTLAW
by RE-VO
temporal pretexts abound
time in circles, round and round.
ever widening crescent moons
embrace Outlaw's electric tunes.
and fast is slow, and now is then,
and men are droids, and bots are men.
no rest, because there is no time,
particularly when online.
the future's now. the past will be.
a tune I wrote is yet to be.
a song I will write has been heard.
and even though that seems absurd,
the Outlaw understands mirage.
the Outlaw sees a sound collage
of psychedelic fantasies
and temporal anomalies.

I AM AN AMERICAN, by GLENN WATERS:
I have a major problem
with Republicans,
Why do they think America
is entitled to everything?
"I am a American," they scream!
We are entitled to everything
in the world.
The oil is ours!
We deserve an endless
cheap supply of
everything:
Land,
Food,
Women,
Gold.
The American dream is based on this!
The dream can never end.
We will keep it going if we have
to drive every one crazy
and turn the whole world into
a giant ashtray in the process!
"I am a American!"
I scream.

MAD AS HELL, by J.C. McGOWAN:
Oh intrepid internaut
Hardly "mad" prophet
(except in "mad as hell" sense)
Righteous rocker
Cosmic crusader
Multi-dimensional unveiler
It's late here in Rio
I raise a beer in your honor
A toast to RE-VO!

NOT A BOT, by J.C. McGOWAN:
A bot you're certainly not!
A galactic force you are
And stellar musician
With fresh space-time-music
Interplanetary vibes
And Big-Bang resonance

A LETTER to SCOTT OSGOOD
by RE-VO
Finally, I find the inventor of pods,
a surrealist, communist
mocker of gods!
The man to complain to
when pods are so shoddy
they flicker and spark,
and endanger the body.
There will be a class action
suit in the mail
From the thousands of users
who wish you in jail.
But who knows if you are
an artful invention
of Mr. McGowan,
the author who mentions
your pod in a book about
very big gods.
Sir, are you a website,
a dude... or a pod?

ODE to RE-VO, by SOUL BROTHER DAVID A.
Wanderer of galaxies and purveyor of thought
Dark veil lifted from truth supposed taught
Bringer of knowledge from planets
afar
Strong glimpses of insight, bright as a star
All should listen to the truth
bringers words
To deny the lies would just be
absurd
Hail mystic warrior fighting the good fight
He strives to show us the difference between what's wrong and right
Shaman walks the line between black and white
Brings the world joy, pure delight.

JOE HILL RETURNS, by RE-VO:
I dreamed I saw you on MySpace,
Alive as you could be.
Said I, "I'd like to be your friend."
Said you, "We'll wait and see."
Said you, "Your space, I'll see."
“That Rupert Murdoch killed you, Joe,
He bought MySpace," said I.
"No Big Six thug can kill a man,"
Said you, "I didn't die."
Said you, "I didn't die."
And standing there as big as life,
and smiling with your eyes,
Said you "I'll network socially,
and, thus, I'll organize,
and so, I'll organize."

Record Label: Altavilla Music
Type of Label: Indie