Hand Gestures & Sarcasm

by Brimaxian (Brian M. Weidemann)

/
  • Streaming + Download

    Includes high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more. Paying supporters also get unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app.

      name your price

     

1.
2.
03:39
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.
05:46
8.
9.
04:22
10.
11.
03:11

credits

released December 31, 2003

tags

license

all rights reserved

about

Brimaxian (Brian M. Weidemann) Santa Ana, California

A persistently versatile mix of guitars, keys, synth strings, and more, in the rock, acoustic, and alternative genres. Dense, poetic wordplay sung by a semi-amateur baritone. Wry wit, hot guitar licks, and the occasional augmented sixth chord.

contact / help

Contact Brimaxian (Brian M. Weidemann)

Streaming and
Download help

Redeem code

Track Name: Brilliance Recedes
The surge of selective reporting
Excludes by design and intent.
The rules will restrict their own angles,
The purpose for which they were bent.
The sentiments seem quite enticing
If only the shining ones stand,
But gold doesn't gleam like aluminum foil
So brilliance recedes for the bland.

And so I rant, as pretentiously bold it gets,
As if I could change the world expecting a response.
I say my piece, they set their price;
but too many have sold their debts
And I won't buy it. No one knows what anyone wants.

The talented forfeit their presence
When bystanders don't comprehend.
They think since one's not been invited,
One hasn't the means to attend.
When begging the question, they heel,
And media pulls on the lead.
And given the dearth of the menu's array,
The feast is whichever they feed.

And so I rant, while nobody holds their bets,
Like pennies could change the world.
What would be the response?
I've said my piece, they cut their price;
a bargain bin doled with debts.
And I won't buy it, nor will I fall for their fleeting flaunts
when brilliance recedes.

And so I rant, like I could change the world.
I've said my piece as they set their price;
but too many have sold their debts
And I won't buy it. No one knows what anyone wants,
so brilliance recedes.

©2003 Brian M. Weidemann
Track Name: Filler Track
Another day, another dollar,
Another tune, a tale taller …
It can't be helped, it has its place,
An empty glass to fill the space
With nothing left to gain.
It's now that I refrain …

'Cause they can't all be gems,
But it's only rock music.
A rift within the vault,
I riffed a lick, a grain of salt.
And all the granite condemns,
I take for granted rock music.
Ingrained are sediments I can't afford
And weighty lines too heavily metaphored.
Complete the rhyme before the audience gets bored,
Then fade out on distorted power chord.

Songs that rhyme can be quite tough
When lyrically they're filled with stuff.
So do not listen to the words;
Just hear my voice in layered thirds.
Poetry converts to prose,
Shimmering arpeggios,
Caution that the build-up throws,
Indebted as the pay-off owes.

The solo fades, the crowds disperse,
And thus begins the tertiary verse.
There isn't one cliché it quotes.
The guitar is playing the obligatory, incessant,
staccato, palm-muted eighth-notes!
I overdrive, turn up the gain.
Once again I will refrain …

'Cause they can't all be gems,
But it's only rock music.
A rift within the vault,
I riffed a lick, a grain of salt.
And all the granite condemns,
I take for granted rock music.
Ingrained are sediments I can't afford
And weighty lines too heavily metaphored.
Complete the rhyme before the audience gets bored,
Then fade out on distorted power chord.

©2003 Brian M. Weidemann
Track Name: Faith-Based Fail-Safe
To search for doves that never soared
You climb the trunk you're pointed toward,
And trust the tree on blinded whim
That nests exist out on a limb.

But while your faith calls falling “flight,”
It fails to disprove the height.

You don't install the safety net
Above the vines to hedge your bet.
What you don't see, you might not get,
But you don't fall, so you don't fret.

I cannot find the function from a faith-based fail-safe
You put in place when finer points are set aside.
Why are you so pre-occupied
With what may not be the world outside?
Safety in numbers but not in the math?
You may not eschew rationality's wrath.

You trust the deck on foul word
In hopes that you are dealt the bird.
I fold an ace, and hands will push.
You hold for pairs, while there's no bush.

But even if you've lost enough,
You still won't think to call the bluff.

You may gain luck and win the pot,
But chips and gloat are all you've got;
The trees aren't rooted, as you thought
And all those doves at rest were shot.

I cannot find the function in your faith.

I cannot find the function from a faith-based fail-safe
You put in place when no one knows the ones who lied.
Why are you so pre-occupied
With promises unjustified?
Safety in numbers but not in the math?
You may not eschew rationality's wrath.
Safety in numbers but not in the math?
You've followed conclusions regardless of path.

What you don't see, you might not get,
But you don't fall, so you don't fret.

©2003 Brian M. Weidemann
Track Name: Running On The Fumes
The sun will blind the train's approach.
The unenlightened travel coach.
And so the shiny ones prevail
When all the whiny ones derail,
And I've lost track of motives I could broach.
I'm left behind to find another trail.

Flames propel the engine,
The forces will explode.
To wield the stress and tension
Makes me swerve upon the open road.
I won't be left in solitude,
I won't be made the fool.
I'm running on the fumes I've brewed;
An ample and abundant fuel
That, every rest, has overflowed,
Igniting, though it never glowed.

The coolant, as it overheats,
Compresses every heart it meets.
There is belief in which I bask,
That there's relief in all I ask.
A chance encounter's never one who greets.
I'm much too weak to seek another task.

Flames propel the engine,
The forces will explode.
To wield the stress and tension
Makes me swerve upon the open road.
I won't be left in solitude,
I won't be made the fool.
I'm running on the fumes I've brewed;
An ample and abundant fuel,
The absence of which will forebode
The optimism I've been owed.

She's the unattainable destination,
Whichever route we take.
The journey's just a lust-elation,
The elusive finish line's a fake.
But should that line be ever passed,
I wouldn't even come in last.

©2003 Brian M. Weidemann
Track Name: Dearest Yvette
“I visit you every day. You brighten up my life
And when I turn away I still see your smile.
But loneliness can't breathe when you're the air I struggle for,
And causing suffocation's not your style.”

Dearest Yvette, why did I never get
The time to sing those words to you?
Dearest Yvette, I will never forget,
It's 'cause you never had a clue.
My heart had encountered yours,
But you locked too many unopened doors.

I feel I fell too far, as painful as it was,
And up until this day I could see your face.
I'm glad I realized your heart resided somewhere else
And wandering never got me to that place.

Dearest Yvette, I know I'll never get
To partake of futile flirts.
Dearest Yvette, maybe I should forget,
Since each and every memory hurts;
The more I recollect,
The truth in retrospect.

I have dreamt about you
And the moments my heart keeps.
My pulse around you never rests;
Your sweetness never sleeps.

But now I've been awakened
And I know I fell too far.
Since you had me banned, I've come to understand.
I cannot believe that I couldn't perceive …
What a rancid bitch you are!

I can't buy a drink, so I can't help but think …
Of the rancid bitch you are!

Dearest Yvette, I just do not get
What I ever saw in you.
Dearest Yvette, whereas I must forget,
You never even knew!
How'd you ever turn me on?
Those sentiments are all gone.

Dearest Yvette, I will always regret
The past week, since I met you.

©2003 Brian M. Weidemann
Track Name: Pending Options
I'll wear my pencil to a stub before I've lost my point,
But my wit is what I worry isn't sharp.
I'll bankrupt every rule I bend, accounts applied in joint,
With my bases covered totally by tarp.

Take my advice and forget what I said yesterday;
Tomorrow's when I'll know what should be done.
Today, I cannot tell you if I'm right or I was wrong,
But today's tomorrow's yesterday, and both are neither one.

All that I'll predict is that clairvoyance is a fraud
And 20/20 hindsight doesn't count.
The brush with which I paint the endless landscape's much too broad;
It's paint-by-number so I'll guess the right amount.

Take my advice and forget what I said yesterday;
Tomorrow's when I'll know what should be done.
Today, I cannot tell you if I'm right or I was wrong,
But today's tomorrow's yesterday, and both are neither one.

I clench a fist, a wrist too reckless, insults in such subtle guise.
I could shoot you if my sights weren't shot.
I flex my digits: one to three, while two too subtly clarifies
Suggested, pending options that you've got.

Take my advice and forget what I said yesterday;
Tomorrow's when I'll know what should be done.
Today, I cannot tell you if I'm right or I was wrong,
But today's tomorrow's yesterday, and both are neither one.

©2003 Brian M. Weidemann
Track Name: Moved On
The anticipation of on-coming words
Has somehow prepared me, restrained, yet assured
Several striking conclusions as sharp quills have drawn.
As such, speculation is surely spot-on.

But where is the rage, and the jealous response,
Or any concern that my heart really wants
To experience; feelings that leave me distraught?
I knew it would hurt, but it really does not.

I'm shocked that I'm so numb.
I could have sworn that I'd be worse at this,
Too mocked that I've succumb
Unto my inner, on-call optimist
Whose house-calls always spilled
My glasses, halfway filled.

With mind still in residence, heart has moved on
To puddle-free sidewalks and greener-grass lawn.
As I perch on this fence on the other side's land,
It's you I am over, but I understand.

I'm shocked that I'm so numb.
I could have sworn that I'd be worse at this,
Too mocked that I've succumb
Unto my inner, on-call optimist
Whose house-calls always spilled
My glasses, halfway filled.

I walked, not crying, from
Those milk-spilt puddles. Why did I resist?
I've chalked it up to some-
Thing that my pessimism always missed.
And now that I've been billed,
I clean up and rebuild.

©2003 Brian M. Weidemann
Track Name: Parenthetical Aside
You've let me state my prior fate
Through etch'd phrase and flourished stroke.
Elucidate for dire strait
And I enunciate and choke.
The ink and lead I've spilled and bled
Has flavoured sentiments unheard.
Through drink and bed my lust has led;
I've savoured such repents in word.

(A dash of punctuation—an ellipsis hesitation …
Semi-colon separation; Subject-verb with predication.)

How many more distractions
from the flow of fine coherency
Can anyone endure to lengths
beyond one's sense of brevity?
To all who leave for sake of safety,
I implore, “Come here and see
I haven't yet divulged my full effect.
Don't run away from me!”

Dare I opine through curve and line?
A grave mistake I've buried deep.
Awry, I dine on gripe and whine;
The berries' juice, a vintage keep.
Devices used, a tense accused,
I've muddled meanings' entropies.
My vices bruised my brilliance mused
With bracket-pinched parentheses.

(With one too many clauses,
Pointless, punctuated pauses,
And the parallels he draws is
Just effect from too few causes.)

How many more distractions
from the flow of fine coherency
Can anyone endure to lengths
beyond one's sense of brevity?
To all who leave for sake of safety,
I implore, “Come here and see
I haven't yet divulged my full effect.
Don't run away from me!”*

*A footnote in the body text, an endnote for one's benefit;
It lies astride, beside the point, however it enriches it.

©2003 Brian M. Weidemann
Track Name: Pedestal
Why do you tease me so?
I don't know just why you hurt me.
I'm not too hard to please, you know,
Now say you do it not to hurt me.

Take advantage of my patience.
Say it's never been your fault.
Since we met you haven't slowed down,
Let alone come to a halt.

Why do you tease me so?
I don't know just why you hurt me.
I'm not too hard to please, you know,
Now say you do it not to hurt me.

The wait for her is heavy burden
And she's deaf to all I've told her.
She just tells me to wait a bit longer.
That weight falls on my shoulders.

Why do you tease me so?
I don't know just why you hurt me.
I'm not too hard to please, you know,
Now say you do it not to hurt me.

Cut down my expectations.
Intents (intense) crash down to land.
From down here I can't see atop
The pedestal on which you stand.

Why do you tease me so?
I don't know just why you hurt me.
I'm not too hard to please, you know,
Now say you do it not to hurt me.

©2003 Brian M. Weidemann
Track Name: Sommer Nights
Sweet Sommer, it's my jaw she floors
While over heartened grounds she soars.
I stir the coffee while she pours.
She makes me mix my metaphors.

She caught the single eyes I've thrown
But dropped my drift, and kisses blown.

Sommer nights,
But she's left and maybe she was right.
It could never be,
Regardless what we each may see.
Sommer nights.

Sweet Sommer, it's her name I call
Before I am prepared to fall.
With seasoned charm she gives her all.
I spring to leap but only crawl.

Sweet Sommer, when she's gone away
I'm tied in thoughts I can't relay.
With strings attached, she cannot stay.
When pulled along, they'll only fray.

The glimpse that launched a thousand fleets,
The flirts that taunted tainted sheets.

Sommer nights,
But she's left and maybe she was right.
It could never be,
Regardless what we each may see.
Sommer nights,
I sit and stir and stare and she
Resists persisting in my sights.
Oh, I see Sommer nights.

Sweet Sommer, opens up her doors.
Her curves will make me do her chores.
I'll buff her counter-top, her floors,
Her buxom chest with matching drawers.

©2003 Brian M. Weidemann
Track Name: Pride
It's not my fault, I must convey here,
nor is it my problem.
Why must all your shortcomings fall to me?
As much as I'm concerned,
I can't assume your role of victim,
While you're prone to pose the possibility.

I cannot yield blindly to your insecurities.
I will not compromise my sense of pride
to set you at your ease.
To guilt me into shame
for simply showing you your blame?
I've never claimed to play that game,
and yet you quote your same reprise.

A stronger will is prey to those
with under-nourished competence.
It pains to see one's self in honest guise,
But easy outs can lure you in—
a false display of innocence.
Can spectacles enhance the blinded eyes?

I cannot yield blindly to your insecurities.
I will not compromise my sense of pride
to set you at your ease.
To guilt me into shame
for simply showing you your blame?
I've never claimed to play that game,
and yet you quote your same reprise.

You always seem to feel …
You always seem to think …
You always seem to say …

I haven't the right in pride
of noble acts you cannot claim,
I shouldn't show off talents
you could never train to master,
And my tendencies to do correctly every little thing
Is sorely flawed when shoddy shortcuts finish faster.

Perhaps I'll revise my thinking.
Maybe I've been wrong.
There's no way that's like to happen—
I've been this way all along.
I can't reform to thrill the throng.

©2003 Brian M. Weidemann