Florida Supreme Court Rules That Oldies Recordings are Public Domain

Musicians, Lyricists, Producers, Directors…. Take note. Follow this story. Spread it through each genre and generation.

https://www.digitalmusicnews.com/2017/10/26/florida-pre-1972-copyright-oldies/

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Florida Supreme Court Rules That Oldies Recordings are Public Domain

Musicians, Lyricists, Producers, Directors…. Take note. Follow this story. Spread it through each genre and generation.

https://www.digitalmusicnews.com/2017/10/26/florida-pre-1972-copyright-oldies/

Fall and Me

9/20/2015

This started off as just a post and is now an excerpt from a new poem (found in FB feed):

Of all of the seasons, Fall is my favorite.
It awakens in me a renewed spirit;
reminds me to dream and grow;
to cherish that which God has so graciously gifted me.

As the leaves change colors,
they mirror the kaleidoscope in my spirit-
changing shapes and sizes,
toying with me,
challenging me to go further than ever before,
speaking to me,
leaving me beautifully breathless.

Vizionairee

Musical Musings 5/20/2016

Evening Musings:

I’ve been staring out the window at night a lot, of late. The sky replete with her wondrous and vivid mysteries. Our clandestine meetings…. Playing coy with her shades, her colors, muted, but breathtaking. Teasing. Beckoning. Speaking. What will she tell me, tonight?

The moon shouted my name across a cloud, reaching me as a whisper, saying things; haunting things; beautiful things. “What is music? “, I dared ask. It was the question on my mind. A star twinkled, and made a discernible sound- the voice of a small child’s glorious giggle, peeking around the seemingly vanished embers of the sun.

“You tell me?” The voice searing lightly across constellations had countered. I searched my cerebral Thesaurus. I needed intelligent, mystical verbiage for this conversation, but nothing. “Come on! You’re smarter than this”, Crystal said to Cryss. I acquiesced, thinking, “maybe not”. The thing I love, the thing I crave, the thing that is…. I can’t find the words. The lexicon I’ve loved had failed me.

A silent and melodic breeze played my vertical blinds like Brahms’ Lullaby. Lillith perched angrily by, a silenced Banshee, still stewing over the one she couldn’t get. The one covered in the Blood.

It started in my chest. A tickling, as buzzing sensation. Working its way through every nerve, every pore, every fiber; bone, cartilage, sinew- flowing like liquid joy.

You see, I was singing all along. We were singing a harmonious duet. Ah, sky, there’s your answer. See you tomorrow night.

Vizionairee Jones-2016

Beautiful Anxiety

Beautiful anxiety

Courses thru my Spiritual veins

I anticipate the draw, the vessel

That will capture that precious essence.

That will release the life-blood of positive change.

Into my here, into my now.

Spill gently, over my lifetime,

That I may one day leave this place

Peacefully, joyously,

EMPTY

Vizionairee
Copyright-Steal it and I’ll kill ya!

5/13/2016

RemembrancesĀ 

Writing feels so good. Been ages since I’ve written a poem, a song, anything AD CAUSA. I feel both renewed and infantile -regaining some things, exploring uncharted territory . Letting go of some things that I’ve gripped so tightly, for so long, my metaphorical fingers have been crushed, bones decimated.

Learning to grab hold to new things with new hands. Allowing my third eye to truly see, as it should, sans fear of what it sees.

Guillaume Apollonaire wrote, “Come to the edge, he said. They said: We are afraid. Come to the edge, he said. They came. He pushed them and they flew.”

Indeed they did – so shall I.
I would be remiss if I retired this evening without thanking my Lord, my Savior, my Redeemer, my Mighty Fortress; Jesus, The Christ. I am so very blessed. God grants me favor, and consistently DEMONSTRATES HIS unconditional love; even when I’m compellingly, overtly unworthy. He is the Great Orchestrator, and I am humbled to be one of the many instruments He uses to create the music that is the human experience.

We are each our own instruments, and our parts have been composed, created, and imagined, just for us. We play with different styles, as we’ve been taught/learned in different ways. However, there can be no complete song, no masterpiece, no melodies, no harmonies, no triumphant finale…… if we don’t realize were even playing the same song-the song of pure love, one, for another.

Vizionairee 2016

Rain, With A Chance of Happy

The rain beckons me like a siren

One only I hear

Each drop a musical note

The showers a melody

Drench me in harmonies

Envelope me, blessed downpour

As I dance joyously, face toward the heavens

Soaking wet, simply happy
Vizionairee 2016