Crusted Digits

Crusted Digits

Crusted Digits was a poem I wrote years ago tiled: Tomorrow.

It was a poem about the working man, and woman, dragging their tired bodies home after a long day at work. When deciding how best to relate the meaning I intended, I chose to experiment with free jazz, experimental jazz and came up with this song.

Lyrics by Karen Eastland,

All vocals and music created using Udio AI:

All images created with NightCafe AI:

Animations created with Apples iMovie Maker

Related Post

Magic RealismMagic Realism

A discussion between Gothicess, and her handy little gnome, who’s looking quite tasty at this moment, in this time between all. He’s such an expressivist philosopher, but the expressivist soul


Fire, white, yellow, red Flaming hair spread along The startling beams shot From roof to wall To bed. Flaming city blocks on Fire doused


Whispering voices wisp And drift with each Thought Memory Locked away Hidden in murmurs lost Time Talking! Unceasing ever Talking, speaking,