CURRENT SEES

music starts 12 seconds in....

CURRENT SEES

all lyrics ©2026 John F Sendelbach

~~~

Cold brew… swirls in the morning gray…

Current hums… beneath the bloom’s array…

Deerfield… Deerfield… let the current speak…

[Verse 1]

Frame cuts sharp before the tide turns wild,

Quiet fills with shadows, assumed guile.

Peace sign flips from morning smile to debt,

Double birds on a Sunday ride, no regret.

Petals cloak the grinding gear below,

Dahlia camouflage on fear’s undertow.

Whispers swell into a silent flood,

While the beauty brand keeps printing currencies of “racist” alibis in blood.

[Chorus]

The Current Sees… oh the Current Sees!

Every currency of truth is flowing wild and free!

They threw that glowing iPhone seventy-five feet deep,

Tried to drown the record but the archive wouldn’t sleep!

Currents see… different currencies,

One version sinks in silence, one rises on the breeze.

The river runs the ledger no affidavit can delete,

The Current Sees… yeah, the Current Sees!

[Jam 1]

[Verse 2]

November morning at the rented gas-station van,

Peace sign turned to fuck-you, then she smiled and drove away again.

Afternoon at Floodwater, Brook came charging from inside the plan,

Thirty-plus blows raining while the bystander pinned the hands.

She seized the still-recording phone while it was singing its song,

Walked it past the old studio, past the rowboat, seventy-five feet long.

Splash… into the Deerfield, deliberate and cold,

The machine screamed “victim” but the river already knew the whole.

[Bridge]

Email letters floating: “someone’s gonna get hurt” they wrote,

Fourteen months later she made the prophecy pay the note.

Firm on the watershed board defending the one who used the river as a tomb,

“Your neighbors, your advocates” — singing a different tune.

“No rehash!” the double-bind decree, sincere shields on hardened scales,

Cold brew witness to the six-year surge, heart at two hundred BPM on passion’s verge.

Beauty cracks where the true light prevails…

Flow reverses… in the river’s time…

[Chorus]

The Current Sees… oh the Current Sees!

Currencies where lies grow thin and flee!

False waves crash in probable, pounding tide,

Heart at peak but still you ride the ride!

Painted mask meets salmon silver stream,

Generative flow… reparative dream!

[Jam 2]

[Verse 3]

But every destruction births the strangest kind of art,

Six-year Vortex cracked open a seven-layer heart.

Pocumtuck State of Mind rising from the pain and scar,

Reparative ledger washing all the old lies away.

Alice built playgrounds from the waste the world would throw,

Her daughter threw the record… but the Current still flows.

[Final Chorus] 

Oh the Current Sees… [currencies glow!]

River didn’t drown what the heart set free,

Truth’s the current no dam can ever seize!

The Current Sees… The Current Sees…

The river didn’t get the record… it just got the phone…

The archive rolls on… the archive rolls on…

[Outro / Coda]

Current sees… currencies bleed…

Flow eternal… feeling freed…

[Stage close]

“This one’s for the feeling that outlives the fight…

let the river carry you home,......let the currency 

---

Democracy & Due Process is a Farce in Franklin County, Massachusetts

The Deerfield River Archive: An Omniscient Chronicle of Inversion, Institutional Gravity, and the Generative Rebound

High above the Deerfield River—where it curls through the Pioneer Valley like a living ledger of erosion and renewal—Shelburne Falls, Massachusetts, appears as a postcard idyll: the Bridge of Flowers arched in seasonal bloom, the ironworks humming with modest industry, the river itself a ribbon of light and shadow. Yet beneath that surface lies a deeper current, one that the documents in John F. Sendelbach’s “Best 14” forensic archive map with relentless precision. This is not merely a local dispute; it is a 10,000-foot case study in how small-town identity machines operate, how they invert reality, and how destruction, when met with obsessive documentation, can midwife its own repair.
The story begins in June 2020 with a single edited video: a white man disrupting what the community framed as a Black Lives Matter vigil on the Iron Bridge. Twenty thousand views, six hundred petition signatures, front-page coverage, a social-media mob. The man in the footage—Sendelbach—had spent decades embedding racial-equity symbols into the physical landscape: Sojourner Truth plaques in granite, the Black Stones of Africa fountain at the Bridge of Flowers, public art commissioned by and for women. None of that context survived the edit. The founding myth was born complete and self-sealing: aggressor versus community. From that moment, every subsequent act by Sendelbach—documenting, archiving, seeking correction—would be read through the lens of the myth. Attempts at reconciliation became “obsession.” Evidence became “harassment.” The machine had its template.
What followed was a six-year sequence of institutional gaslighting rendered in police reports, affidavits, and court transcripts. over a dozen false police reports. Two perjured HPO affidavits. Landlord letters engineered for eviction. A pattern of judicial findings—by Judge William F. Mazanec III alone, in 2021, 2023, and December 15, 2025—that Hennessey’s sworn statements were not credible. Yet no referral for perjury. No cross-proceeding continuity that would force later judges to see the prior record. The system treated each filing as pristine, each complaint as novel. Sergeant Gilmore’s 2021 email (“I told Hennessey that I was not going to call Sendelbach because it hasn’t worked in the past”) became the quiet permission structure. The machine did not require conspiracy; it required only the ordinary laziness of institutions operating under the gravity of a dominant narrative.
The climax arrived on November 30, 2025, at Floodwater Brewing. Morning: Hennessey trespasses on Sendelbach’s rented gas-station property, peace sign to double middle finger. Afternoon: Brook Batteau charges, shoves, delivers blows while a bystander pins Sendelbach’s arms; Hennessey joins with ten to twenty more strikes, seizes the still-recording iPhone, walks seventy-five feet past the former studio and rowboat, and throws it into the Deerfield River—the same river her law firm’s partner, Sarah Dolven, sits on the Kestrel Land Trust board to protect. Zachary Livingston’s sworn statement and police probable-cause findings corroborate the sequence. The phone was not impulse; the act had been ideated in the 2020 thread (“I would throw his camera in the water”). Spoliation of evidence, literal and symbolic.
Sendelbach’s response was not retaliation but radical archiving. The “Best 14” documents—pre-arraignment briefing to the DA, ADA medical-vulnerability notice (atrial fibrillation triggered at 200 BPM by proximity to the defendants), formal complaints to the Commission on Judicial Conduct and Board of Bar Overseers, victim-impact statement, forensic dissections of the Walker letters (fourteen months of premeditation: “it’s really only a matter of time before someone gets hurt”), full email chain showing mediation refused—form a textual axis that physical sabotage cannot erase. Layered atop it: the material axis (Sendelbach’s public sculptures still standing) and the somatic axis (documented cardiac episodes traceable to specific encounters). The archive is the counter-weapon. The river got the phone; the record survived in granite, in medical data, in timestamps, and now in this mailed package.
The ironies compound at the institutional level. Sharp, Heyman, Dolven & Elkins, LLP—tagline “Your neighbors, your advocates,” with partners who volunteer for Safe Passage domestic-violence services, Community Legal Aid, and river-watershed protection—takes the defense of the woman who assaulted a neighbor, destroyed evidence in the very river their board member stewards, and whose campaign inflicted the precise harms their firm exists to remedy. Marissa Elkins, former bar president and domestic-violence volunteer, appears unprepared in the March 12, 2026 HPO hearing, recycles adjudicated fictions under a judicial “no-rehash” order that binds only the pro-se, medically vulnerable plaintiff. The machine runs on sincere service: attorneys, judges, police, and journalists performing their roles within an aesthetic of progressive community guardianship. The beauty brand—dahlias, festivals, “keeper of the flame” profiles—camouflages the inversion.
Omnisciently, the saga reveals a deeper structural truth about identity machines. They do not require cartoon villains; they require sincere operators sharing an aesthetic, a network, and a founding myth. Each actor can point to defensible motives: the petition organizer believed the edited video; the sergeant managed limited resources; the judge enforced procedural efficiency; the attorney advocated for her client. Collectively, they produce erasure. The target’s documented identity—artist, public-installation creator, man who never struck back—is overwritten by the substitute identity: racist, stalker, menace. Projection completes the circuit: the network that edited videos, filed false reports, destroyed evidence, and weaponized children as rhetorical shields accuses the documentarian of the very sins it commits.
Yet the machine’s deepest miscalculation is generative. Destruction midwifed the archive. The archive midwifed the analysis: “The Deerfield River Machine and the Judicial Reptile Farm,” “Pocumtuck State of Mind,” the seven-layer METLAND framework for belonging and repair. From the Vortex of concentrated moral certainty and insufficient accountability emerges Earthscape Architecture—a reparative landscape proposal centered on the very Deerfield River watershed: fish passage, riparian corridors, Indigenous sovereignty, Black displacement history, ecological overlays. Alice Hennessey built playgrounds from landfills and championed belonging; her daughter Katherine enforces boundaries through wreckage; her granddaughter Alouette edits the digital record; and Marissa Elkins, in the role of advocate, defends the inversion. The ledger balances not in vengeance but in design: the park that could heal what the machine fractured.
As the April 7, 2026 arraignment approaches, the archive stands complete. It has been distributed to the DA, the defense firm, the Commission on Judicial Conduct, the Board of Bar Overseers, and the local paper. The river did not erase the record; it merely received the phone. In the long view from 10,000 feet, small-town America is not exempt from the national feed of identity machines—it is their purest laboratory. But it is also where repair can be most intimate. The documents do not demand the destruction of the beauty brand; they demand its alignment with its own stated values. The machine ran its sequence. The auditor mapped it. The designer now proposes the cure.
The Deerfield flows on, indifferent to affidavits yet carrying their weight downstream. The archive, distributed and indelible, waits for the court, the community, and perhaps the river itself to render its final, reparative verdict.
John F. Sendelbach ~ March 28, 2026

Seven Song Suite

 

"seven song suite" all lyrics ©2026 John F. Sendelbach

 }}}}suno took my lyrics and made the AI band play!{{{{ 

Try clicking "CC" closed captioning for the lyrics 

0:00 DOWN AT CHOCOLATE HOLE. (JFS 2.20.02) 

4:20 FORTY SEVEN HOURS (JFS 1.8.03)

8:15 FIREFLY (JFS '02) 

15:32 JASMINE'S TREE (JFS 12.28.02) 

19:12 SCORPION IN THE BONNET (JFS 2.29.02) 

22:40 I AM OPEN (JFS March 2026) 

28:20 WRIGHT AWEIGH ...........CAUTION: mature content lol (JFS October 2001)

Peninsu-laugh seer

SEER

[singing VOICE INTRO]:

Red-tail wingbeat…  …non gratis…

Bennis non gratis……Paulis non gratis…Johnis non gratis……

Red-tail wingbeat…  …non gratis……non gratis

Three promontory flyers on the peninsula brink

Waves of laughter crashing where the water starts to think

Subcontinental Seer cuts the truth down to a wink

Red-tail wingbeat…  …non gratis…

[verse]

Attic brick slant-roof where the east-wind heaves

For-rent house, shadows breathing under eaves

Jeep ride evening Paulis sings  a Sparkle true

Non gratis knew the dreams we chased right through

[verse]

Grad house busted mansion coffee black and strong

Feral shadows stretching where we don't belong

Windows full of questions nobody dared to ask

Brothers breathing twilight in the shining mask

[CHORUS]

Psilocybin shoreline, mushroom wind leans in

Psilocybin shoreline, mushroom wind leans in

mushroom wind leans in...nnnnnn...

mushroom wind leans in...nnnnnn...

promontory flyers mushroom wind leans in

Subcontinental Seer smiles and sees us through

[verse]

Peninsula laughing — newt and salamander stay

Brothers where the mushroom rivers slowly sway

Peninsula laughing, water drags us to the brink

Pondside shadows syncing where the world begins to sink

[verse]

Water turning language into moving light

Every wave a sentence breaking left and right

Circle drifting outward, nothing holding tight

Everything is funny when the boundaries delight

[Spoken Word Interlude]

Paulis out of nowhere—

I bonginate my bongin in my rigor mortis haberdashery

—and we hit the floor laughing....we fell apart

.[music resumes]

we hit the floor laughing....we fell apart

..we fell apart, ...we fell apart, ...we fell apart

...we fell apart, ...we fell apart, ...we fell apart

[CHORUS]

Psilocybin shoreline, mushroom wind leans in

Psilocybin shoreline, mushroom wind leans in

mushroom wind leans iiiiiiiiiinnnnnnn...

mushroom wind leans iiiiiiiiiinnnnnnn...

promontory flyers mushroom wind leans in

Subcontinental Seer smiles and sees us through

[verse]

Backroom voices echo, newt-eggs burst and talk

Salamander tail-road slithers public walk

Wet clothes woodstove steaming levi's blue

Subcontinental Seer smiles and sees us through

[CHORUS]

Psilocybin shoreline, mushroom wind leans in

Psilocybin shoreline, mushroom wind leans in

mushroom wind leans iiiiiiiiiinnnnnnn...

mushroom wind leans iiiiiiiiiinnnnnnn...

promontory flyers mushroom wind leans in

Subcontinental Seer smiles and sees us through

[OUTRO]

Red-tail wingbeat…  …non gratis……non gratis……non gratis…

Bennis non gratis……Paulis non gratis…Johnis non gratis……

Red-tail wingbeat…non gratis fell apart, non gratis fell apart, 

mushroom wind leans in, non gratis fell apart, 

mushroom wind leans in, non gratis fell apart, 

 ...we fell apart, we fell apart, we fell apart