Stream Willis Earl Beal: Experiments in Time on Pitchfork Advance

The Return of


my comrades were only re-routing

the old address to the new site.

So, has a new look.

Probably for the best.

You know it’s odd for me to be

concerned with such seemingly

trivial matters now,

considering how I started out, but

having an internet presence seems to be 

essential these days,

essential for…….. ‘networking’.

Of course, this is not exactly 

a LinkedIn page.

I don’t like the term ‘networking’, though.

I prefer ‘communication’.

This is a fine vessel for just such an act. 

I’ll be here as long as you are.


P.O. Box: 8094 Lacey, Wa 98503

Live Long and Prosper. 

Life as Art and the Innate Destructiveness of Creative Critique, By Willis Earl Beal

I wrote an article for Pigeons & Planes. Check it out……… if you dare.

Willis Earl Beal - TRAVELING EYES


Willis Earl Beal


This is officially the first single off the upcoming release on August 8th 2014. 



Willis Earl Beal

All I need… and sky…..

Independent commercial release on August 8th 2014.
Help the promotion. Pass it on.

Independent commercial release on August 8th 2014.

Help the promotion. Pass it on.

by Willis Earl Beal


by Willis Earl Beal

Do you feel?

Do you feel trapped because everything is a circle and….everything is owned by someone else? Do you feel isolated because…..all clubs are members only? Have you asked the question, 

How does one become a member?and realized that if you aren’t already a member, then you will NEVER be? 

Do you believe that there is a secret languagespecial code and… don’t speak that language or have that code?

Do you fail to understand?

What do they know? Why must I be silent? Why do I feel totally expendable in this society? and if I am expendable; then why do I care what happens? Why am I so afraid? Wouldn’t it be better if I were fearless?

No, not necessarily. We could become paralyzed or incapacitated in some way. At this point, our bravely stoic perspective & approach might weaken. We might be compelled to lose dignity and cry out for God…..the very same God we renounced with pseudo-intellectual certainty when we were healthy. Then what?

DEATH. DEATH AND A FUNERAL. A small, two-page paper tract with a terrible, blurred picture of us on the front of it, despite the fact that we said we wanted our ashes thrown into the ocean or buried under a tree and a clown party thrown in our honor. The tract will likely be peppered with some loosely related biblical scriptures and a brief, impersonal summary of the measure of our importance to everyone who knew us, followed by live testimonials of a similar kind, with people welling up in tears….musing about otherwise insignificant events involving us when we were alive. Then, the procession, the burial and the wake. At the wake, people get wasted, fondle each other and weep uncontrollably for comfort in the face of our “untimely” death. They do this without taking a moment to realize that they never really knew us at all. They had no particular empathy or comiseration with us. Our ideas, values, habits, desires, compulsions, fears, dreams & nightmares were almost entirely foreign to everyone in attendance. Yet, they cry. They feel sad. Why?

Perhaps they feel guilty for not having tried to know us. Maybe they didn’t know what to say. Maybe they realize now, in retrospect, that they actually were  not concerned and it pains them to imagine they could be so careless, but how could they be expected  to search out our every hidden fear and every sacred dream? They can’t.

This is a ridiculous and impossible expectation. We become them when we give what we can (or feel like), confront the inevitable guilt that comes afterward and allow that guilt to dissolve into a realization that we never had a say in the matter to begin with.

Willis Earl Beal just launched an e-store. You can see it here.

Willis Earl Beal just launched an e-store. You can see it here.

Mischa Barton Joins WIllis Earl Beal’s Church Of Nobody

This is dangerous.

This is dangerous.

The streets are a wasteland.

The phone-line reaches nowhere.

Time is the small animal…….

like the prey you can’t catch…..

like the one and only

enduring burden.

I wait. I wait upon my judgement. 

I reach out within my forum…..

to those who would occupy my house,

and perhaps my home.

Where is reality?

Where are MY people?

Surely not here…….

not HERE where there are no

hands, no breath, no ambient chatter.

And yet….HERE I AM.  Where? 

This is dangerous.