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I think and create

in other sunny minor keys

far from stale garlic breath masonic operas

crumbling stony night through twelve tone rabbitholes

out way past dionysos pissing in the knowing wind the wind

that never had a shit to give in any place any where no when

perhaps your eyes want to taste near dear touchy tillys softy

greetingcard feels and hear candy gun words of gothic thrash

smell your own bones in half for the busy modern world adorned

adorno living wified on his got to have it so madass bad


some soma sofas




About a. edward watkins

With the exception of 2 years study of western music theory and harmony- I am a self taught percussionist, writer and abstract painter. Not your drummer boy drummer - not your writerly writer nor the painterly painter. Creativity is an integral aspect of my existence - as it is for us all - in some form or another. My experiences in life have informed and shaped my world view profoundly. I am the disrupter - the never quite satisfied - the relentless creator of word, sound and image. I question the answers and question the questions.

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