• House Of Dreams feat. Break-In Point - Zen in a Nighclub, poetry and drone music
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  • Monty Cash Music
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    • September 08, 2020, 10:06:17
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Here is a poetry track I recorded from a friend in the Netherlands recently, I mixed it with some drone music by friend's in Turkey.

It will be on the next Zen in a Nightclub collaboration project release. There will be one more track like this, uploaded very soon.

https://soundcloud.com/zeninanightclub/house-of-dreams-feat-break-in-point-cestmir-bergsma-alessandro-muresu-and-yeliz-bulgurcu/s-zkjk0

Words to the poem by Cestmir Bergsma:
the house of dreams holds many streams that create the abbillity to move within
the house of dreams shelters the answers you sek without showing you how to speak

it has branches wherein the sacred landscapes of a breeze caresses your cheeck
it has the story of a unity who falls silently when you found peace amongst the snowflakes of a winter's day

it was he who walked around in search of family
it was she who tried to find meaning in this reality

many roads we take, many choices we make
can we say in what way thoughts are shaped?

what are the feelings that guided our path?
it was he who found a question one day
it was she who dropped it in the first place

the house of dreams holds many mysteries
one of them in binding us together
like pieces of strings that transfers knowledge to eachother
as if we simultaneously go through the same emotions and feel the same spirit

it is maybe this what nature intended
to stumble upon the structure of being one
and share the stories that we through

it is he who sat on the streets
it is she who sat there already

and so, life brings us to the same dreams
we all want to live happily
to be content with the mysterie of never knowing
because we already know where our story is going to end

it will become a part of the cycle of dreams
remembered in the thoughts of eachother
as if we were a team, holding on to memories of faith and believe

it is he who took the time to see
it is she who found a friend to tell her miseries too
and they are just the same as us
stumbling upon the structure of being one

and then suddely, the house of dreams
with a great wide door who welcomes us
with windows that are always open and trees inside who touch the high ceiling and beyond

it it is the house where family resides to cook and play in ways you have never seen before

it is he who found a way to stay
it is she who gradually became part of me
dancing on the grounds
speaking about the past as if it was forgiven and loved
carried by all the heartbeats of family

it is there, inside the house of dreams
where beauty does not have a name

it is merely a way of greeting
a way of seeing the teachings that may linger in forgotten feelings

may we have the deceny to see how insanity feels
and give our dreams to the family inbetween the trees

Find updates on my travels and music on http://peakd.com/@montycashmusic


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Here is the second track like this one with the poem 'Conversation between silence and doubt' and music 'Umut'.

https://soundcloud.com/zeninanightclub/conversation-between-silence-and-doubt-feat-umut/s-QNN4P

Words to the poem by Cestmir Bergsma are as follows:

Silence -

If anything happens, come to me and I will hold you until the time forgets your fears and the wind stands still to dwell in the trivial decimation of emptiness. To cradle the essence in your bones, allay your anxiety to behold beauty that admires, for your decay might inspire a newly born not to cry. If the desire to show the songs of sorrow is upon you than another day of freedom will construct itself out of the tears that say: I am not afraid to worship death amongst the celebration of life
I am not afraid to stay alone
wandering in the nights where voices are above and below me, singing their song of unity

Doubt-

I will come to you and you will hold me in the silence which is you name , in the lands that hold your tong, only to memorize the words that vibrated when you yourself was silent
can you promise me the fragrance of grief upon peace. I will listen to the death where boundaries keep me

I can promise you peace nor grief, only acceptance of the language of nothingness. You will have to dive deep to extract the riddles of pathways, enlighten broken windows of your soul and refine the weaves of sunlight so that they can shimmer upon the newly restored for what is a broken window but a playful act of shards who wanted to feel individual again. They will have the change by their side, persuading their solid unity to extract the knowledge that lay scattered on the streets

so I must acknowledge that everything is changeable in order for it to stay tangible. I decompose to feel the foundations of darkness where I came from
but what of the uncertainty that shifts reality
can I make the butterflies that rise understand were my power lies
they will glow across my soul upon the shards and make them whole
can they find the structures in which wisdom entangles liberty nor common sense

what is wisdom but the freedom of breath
must is a word, shaped by the habitual reality that wants to lie in order to escape your liberty to choose
rights are designed as distractions, to make you forget the flapping of the wings that glow across your soul to remember the power to let go and their fore be a guest in the hall of love where you always go where you are supposed to be

how can I follow?
trust the unknown to bring me security as if there was never insecurity
as if all the world conspired to trap me in illusions which coinvestigated my happiness and brought in return fear and doubt within
to singe away my will to fight for the freedom I seek

we are all, creators
coinvestigating the lands within to seek freedom where there is no harmony
to rise above , to break free from the world that made you believe, is to die and die again
as if trust is born in the underworld
there was never security, change finds its way in every story
if we deliver honesty where questions gather than we might have hope that love never fades away
unfortunately, if these questions are no questions but mere illusions that wants no answer
then the fight takes casualties, for they do not live in a world where their mind was heard and therefore experience of the art of listening wants to be taught to deaf ears

I humble myself to follow but this is absurd
how do deaf ears listen?
truly a fight is flared and who will care for the innocent. The ones who die and die again, for they will resurrect in-between gunshots
would you like to celebrate the heritage of fools
those who you can teach nothing but how to open their throats in anguish
they will keep being deaf even when eyes go blind and tongs are replaced with dust

what is bravery but the rejection of luxury
we are not made to fulfill dreams while sitting in a stream
if longing mistakes itself for need than the seed of humility is thrown away in the ashes that would never be
but if longing mistakes itself for want than a tree can grow to see the flow of the stream indulging your eyes who follow
there is only fight if it means finding skin no place to breathe
if confrontation based on honesty is repelled from me than there cannot be a killing stroke
for morality sees how life goes, not depending of hopes to be the time where you can decide, this is where I die
if we look closely than we can even distinguish patterns that were created in your dreams to go where bones cannot follow
deaf ears can be confronted by bravery


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This type of performance has a long history in the NL. Since 1962 Johnny van Doorn, aka Jonny the Selkicker, the very first of our beat poets.
Why Cestmir is doing his act in English is a bit of a mystery to me.
I think I have to get accustomed to the anglsation of Amsterdam. Thereís no shop or eating house where you are served by English spoken persons who donít speak Dutch. There is a ugly chance of dividing the Amsterdam people in a higher educated part and a lower part. Itís easy to see that the latter will be left out.

I will be back to listen to it again, if I can bolster myself against the most horrible Dutch accent I have heard in decades.
To be continued.....
Kind regards, Gus


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« Last Edit: February 02, 2020, 13:17:55 by Monty Cash Music »
This type of performance has a long history in the NL. Since 1962 Johnny van Doorn, aka Jonny the Selkicker, the very first of our beat poets.
Why Cestmir is doing his act in English is a bit of a mystery to me.
I think I have to get accustomed to the anglsation of Amsterdam. Thereís no shop or eating house where you are served by English spoken persons who donít speak Dutch. There is a ugly chance of dividing the Amsterdam people in a higher educated part and a lower part. Itís easy to see that the latter will be left out.

I will be back to listen to it again, if I can bolster myself against the most horrible Dutch accent I have heard in decades.
To be continued.....
Kind regards, Gus

Haha... regarding Dutch accent. I read it to him and he laughed. I'm in Enschede now. So I suppose not specifically the anglicisation of Amsterdam but that of greater Netherlands.

He also reads in Dutch, but has done a similar thing to me and my music, traveling through Eastern Europe and Turkey and making poetry on the fly for restaurant patrons and this was how he made his living for a while. I suppose English is a good 'common language' despite giving social dominance to a historically violent and greedy colonialist empire by its use.

What to do?

I actually like his accent. But I'm not Dutch and I can understand. It might be similar to the offence caused by an Australian writing poetry in french and then reciting it with the self-confidence like they know the language well, when to a french person there is nothing more offensive. haha

Well, at least we try with what we have. I've got into disputes about singing a turkish song once, which stopped a jam in Izmir, the way I was pronouncing the words had changed the meaning and language offence was had. Also, I had a song translated into french once and there was yet another dispute about pronunciation with a french boy who decided to nit pick.

The funny thing about English is that so many people use it so many different ways. There are english speaking snobs that are very persistent in a 'proper' way of speaking it, but for the rest of us, we have learned to enjoy all forms of english. And some foreign people, artistic people, use their apparent 'limp' exposed in their use of the language and turn that limp into a dance. Mocking and celebrating the language all at once.

I believe Cestmir does this with his use of English.

But the pieces themselves are beautiful and it's the first time his poetry has been married with music. He's very happy with the result. It's a great feeling to bring pieces together and see them fit.