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The Pause + Musician in Frankston, VI

The Pause
CONTACT

Hiding candles

  • Type mp3 | Uploaded Thu, 21 May 2026 13:50:07 -0400
  • File size 4,931.97 Kylobytes | Track # 1
  • Year 2025 | Album
  • Genre Alternative | Comments

    +++
    I was pullin’ wool in Bedlam,
    backfoot bad, toe tappin’ time.
    Rattlin cans and clues in bingo shoes, and water into wine

    Wisdom walked right by me, smiling sweetly, drippin ink.
    As you past the shadow cast spelled “Careful what you think.”


    I was seeking understanding, scanning sight-lines, under rocks.
    Should have naked guessed you’d stood half blessed to darn it through my socks.

    Someone said “They’re selling aftermarket features in the park.”
    I was hiding in the corner halls of light from rising dark

    I stepped out where the thunders
    light wrote ozone in the air.
    It smelled electric then, near clippin.
    Click track.
    When I felt you there

    Now I know you’re always with me
    just as sure as I drop fears.
    Just as sure and wide as tears will glide, or idle by as years.


    Pocket fluff and faculty fill my hands now, time is late.
    Sending bottled rhymes while reasons climb their ladders at the gate.

    I was once full of instinct.
    Circumstantial pantaloons.
    Hiding candles bright all day and night and waxing over tunes

    I don't know why it seemed
    I had to wait to count the walls
    I will do what I came to do, but know it’s you who pulled me through.

    My hands still hum with static from the promises I might have broke.
    Sitting stacked like old cassettes in a box beneath your coat.

    When silence rides to find me.
    may it find me speaking true;
    In a language built from lightning
    and the quiet shape of you.

    By my smell and well, we delight to invest this sacred now.
    Which forth, never again the like may be.

    Brett Chinnock: May 31st, 2025

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SEEKING

Vocalist, Vocalist - Bass, Vocalist - Baritone, Vocalist - Tenor, Vocalist - Soprano, Rhythm Guitar, Lead Guitar, Acoustic Guitar, Bass Guitar, Drums, Other Percussion, Violin, Trumpet, Saxophone, Keyboard, Piano, Background Singer, Harmonica, Flute, Banjo, Mandolin, Fiddle, Dobro, Vocalist - Alto, Trombone, Steel guitar, Upright bass, Cello, Accordion, Ukulele, DJ, Electronic Music, Clarinet, Harp.

ABOUT

I am predominantly a lyricist, however if you are eager to work with an average beginner/intermediate level keyboardist/guitarist/ singer with no experience playing with other people ever, then I would be happy to see what comes of it.

Trackin' :

I’m riding driftwood
Far out where the rhyme breaks
Bright into the midline
Right down through the out takes.
And lately the sound calls
Driven low from the slow lakes
Out deep where the mist falls
Hard rising like earth quakes.

Don’t you dare let a round sound
Slip cold from those warm lips.
Blood, wool, wet and will bound
Mild mannered while time shifts.
Now we’re trackin’ big foot
Cold cotton and clothes clips.
He’s Mac, mad makin’ wide tacks,
Deep down where the tide drifts.

He’s myth makin’ old friends
Out back by the new trees
Weathered, wild walkin’ backfoot
Low, up under the dead leaves.
I’m slow stitching sea glass
Delight spilling cold shoes,
Light thrill on the cloud line,
Shed fresh on the old news.

Picked up a few strays,
Where broken rhyme ends,
A note in a bottle
That only half sends.
And you were like starlight
Toe grip on the fence line,
Tuning your voice to
The hush of the old pines.

Always where your yearning waits
I see you beside my sin
Naked there and painting flakes
Of novelty upon your skin.

When the earth quake shakes,
No one fakes a smile.
You afforded me,
More than just a little while.


My fascination:

Tried to write my fascination..
Though I was not slick..
So i cried exasperation..
But I tired quick..
I looked for inspiration..
Found it everywhere..
I gimbled my elation..
'til I did not care..
Free my mind of wind and willow..
Don't deceive my armadillo..
Slice the cabbage off the rot..
Mictate on my ocelot..
Teach me why I am not wise..
Break me when your eyes was pies..
Show me a cat trumpet flute..
With your eyes of beetle fruit..


Down and out in Bedlam:

I see bell birds getting down and out in bedlam baby.
I hear standing babas dying slowly on their feet.
I smell biscuit baking, dew drops breaking underneath me.
Buccaneers all beg for mercy here on boogie street.
And I could not sail the seas so sweet as such without you.
Nor bind you to the whalers wheel with bands of jute.
I will not deceive your inner armadillo lady.
I will love you with your eyes of pies and beetle fruit.

Screen name:
The Pause
Member since:
Nov 26 2022
Active within 1 week
Level of commitment:
Committed
Years playing music:
45
Tend to practice:
2-3 times per week

Instrument experience:

Piano:
Moderate
Acoustic Guitar:
Moderate
Keyboard:
Moderate
Rhythm Guitar:
Intermediate
Bass Guitar:
Intermediate
Vocalist:
Beginner

EQUIPMENT

Pen and paper
Kawai Mp11se,
Scarlet 4i4
Telecaster/ Bass
Other