two poems

Nov 2nd

Is nothing sacred?

And where, if not in this place

Do bared feet tread holy ground?

No one is afraid not to hear

"Remove your sandals, for the ground on which you stand is holy ground."

Is there so little ground

that so few must unlace their boots?

Or is it now, when we must wash each other's feet,

That the ground on which we stand is holy?

Nov 3rd - Nov 9th

The leaves are falling off of the trees

and

we spend our idle hours (of which there are few)

holding hands, together in the reading glen

in the place where

I first said that I kinda liked you

and

you told me I had an adorable face

and

I told you that I thought you were beautiful

and you told me to shut up

but your eyes shone like wet tortoise shells.

That was back when we were seventeen

and

we were still scared of saying "I love you"

well

I'm still scared because you may think I'm nice

but I'm aware of my own volatility

so

for now, we'll satisfy ourselves with looks of

mutually held but un-communicated feeling.

But you better watch yourself girl, because one of these days

I will probably get down on one knee

and

ask you a yes or no question

I'm telling you this now so that when that day comes

you won't be too surprised

you won't be flustered

and you'll have thought of an answer

and you'll say "Yes."

The Underground (T.S. Eliot)

On the underground and into the dark,

On the underground and into the dark,

Train's movin' but there ain't no sparks

On the underground and into the dark.

Slow Procession into the dark

on the underground a funeral march

They're all wonderin' is it me in the casket

but they know that it is so they're too scared to ask it.

Oh my soul, shut up and see,

Whatever's comin', is it comin' for me?

They say "It's cancer, what'cha gonna' do now?, well

no one lives forever on the underground."

Oh my Lord, where are we now?

I think we made it but I don't know how.

One little step on your eternal stair, well

I think we made it but I don't know where.

They say it's somethin' but I wish I was sure

It isn't nothin' but I wish it was more

They say I'm young and I'll figure it out, but

I'm runnin' out of time on the underground.

(I'm never really going to finish this, but you can hear the rough audio here)

(And i totally stole much of this from Arcade Fire's Antichrist Television Blues)

Fear and Trembling

Blogger doesn't have a way to upload audio files.

But as part of the create 365 project I'm doing over at tumblr, I made a song about Abraham, inspired by Michael's thematic.

That is all.

Thanks Sufjan.

I see city lights in red

I see airstreams overhead

And I'm thinking of what Michael said

I am thinking of what Michael said

I see passengers break their bread

I see passengers break and bend

Ivory passengers stuck in their heads

And I'm thinking of what Michael said

I rode the Greyhound bus: under the overpass

I ride the train till my eyelids grow sore

I watched the snowflakes fall, through the half-frosted glass

I walk three-thousand miles to your door

Darling, can't you see, I can't speak for both of us

But if you start to speak then I tell you "don't"

Darling, if I said I loved you would you believe in me

I'm not sure if I would and that's why I won't.

I write letters in my bed

With my over-shirt over my head

And I'm thinking of what Michael said

I am thinking of what Michael said

I'm afraid to start afresh

I don't want this night to end

I don't want the words to be dead

And I'm thinking of what Michael said

Under Orion's belt we watched the stars come out

Eyes in the East looking for the North star

Silently, I reached out, took your hand. Silently

you picked the lock on the backstage door

Under the stagelights the cello played quietly

hand in hand we fit in one theater spot

The audience applauded, behind the curtain we relaxed

Grateful the clapping had started and stopped

Fourteen Architects

Fourteen Architects with palaces of porcelain

And smoking jackets meant to sit for hours

Fourteen Architects, the gutters aren't for stepping in

You lack the last connection in your towers

And when the inspector surveyed your work

He discovered it of no great worth

Disappointed, His forehead furrowed

And He sent you - to the unemployment bureau

Fourteen Architects, I never trusted what you said

In half measures you measured out the truth

Fourteen Architects, I never loved a thing you did

You vilified the innocence of you

Fourteen Architects, what you said and what you meant

Are two completely different things to me

Fourteen Architects, all your empty arguments

Are not the hospitality I need

And when the inspector surveyed your work

He discovered it of no great worth

Disappointed, His forehead furrowed

And He sent you - to the unemployment bureau

Watch out kid!

Fourteen Architects

Fourteen Arguments

And what they said

And what they did

That wasn't what He meant

Fourteen Architects, no more to plague the least of them

Who dug the holes and put them in their graves

Fourteen Architects, buried in the basement

Beneath the ivory monuments they made

The plight of the Byronic Hero

Your persecuted promises can't bear their own weight

And you've eaten the grief of every grievance you've made

Still you will not kneel, you will not yield before Me

I only establish what I mean to keep

You don't belong to anything if you don't belong to Me

And if you won't wake soon then I'll wrestle you in your sleep.

Kneel and be filled

You cannot stand forever in defiance of My will

Fall down, fall down before Me

The ladder of Jacob was put down for you to climb

The self you become must be the self that is Mine

In humility you must be filled or else remain dry

You can't put your trust in your mind as you've done

It's only in Me that the head and heart are one

If you ever figured out this disfigured man then you would die

Kneel and be filled

You cannot stand forever in defiance of My will

Fall down, fall down before Me

You balance before My wrath

My silence answers all the wrongful questions that you ask

Fall down, fall down before Me

Acknowledge your despair

Then can you hope for resurrection and repair

Fall down. Fall down before Me.

With appropriate credit to Soren, Andrew Murry, and Mumford&Sons (for the tune)

Men Without Chests

I'm an automation

A well oiled machine

Made of levers and symmetry

Gears grind - when my - heart beats

You're a paper dancer

With a crystal heart

And you're balanced so perfectly

It's tearing - me - apart

Can you teach me to feel?

'Cause I'll die if I'm not real!

I'm a frigid intruder

In your warm little world

And it feels so difficult

Explaining what I don't know.

When you catch me staring

There's a fire in your eyes

It's far, far deeper

Then the shallow glow in mine.

Will you teach me to feel?

'Cause I'll die if I'm not real!

I'm a man with no chest,

And I'm so out of breath,

I don't know what this beating is for!

Can you teach me to dance?

Can you show me the steps?

Can you lead me around on the floor?

I'm a man with no a chest,

Don't give up on me yet

I never felt this way before!

Can you teach me to dance?

Can you give me a chance?

Can you lead me around on the floor?

Just, in general, as an observation, I find it a lot harder to speak honestly when I limit myself to song lyrics. That is... not that any of the songs I write - and write as a song - are dishonest, but they're less perfect at expressing my thoughts and feelings. This one, for example, is more of an expression of an idea than an expression of myself.

Goodnight, sweet...

You had a hard day

You fell down so many times

I try, I try to be something more

than just a shoulder for you to cry on

It'll be okay

Failure is a blessing in disguise

Don't you forget that you've already won

if you rise every time you fall down.

Goodnight, Goodnight!

This darkness cannot last for long

All the while - I'll be by your side

So sleep, my love, while we wait for dawn.

Did nobody tell you

That you are a work of art?

I know, I've said this a million times

but I want to say it again.

I love you so,

Saying "no" was the hardest part

Sometimes I wish we weren't so alike

Let's not argue at two AM.

Goodnight, Goodnight!

This darkness cannot last for long

All the while - I'll be by your side

So sleep, my love, while we wait for dawn.

The Heart Speaks

In my head, in my head

Lay an answer to what you had asked

In my head: my defense

I was wrong, I was wrong

To deceive you for so long

I was wrong to lead you on

I don't want to think a word

'Cause that's when the trouble starts

Oh darling, I wish I could listen to my heart

In my heart, in my heart

I was tearing myself apart

In my heart I was lost

Was I right? Was I right

to tell you what was on my mind

Was I right or was I blind?

I don't want to think a word

'Cause that's when the hurting starts

Oh darling, the hurt seems worse in my heart

It was plain, it was plain

As clear hurt in your face

It was plane, I lost my way

I don't know, I don't know

I've never been here before

I don't know where to go

Forward is a desolate track

Both sides are off my map

The starts that guided me collapsed

Oh! how I wish I could go back

Oh! I wish I could go back

I don't want to move an inch

'Cause that's how I got this far

Oh darling, believe me, I wish I had followed my heart

This isn't 100% of me talking. I mean, I wrote it, it's something that I feel (perhaps, at this point, felt) But it's only half of me. I gave my emotions free reign to say what they wanted (my mind just helped with the spelling) and this is what they came up with. I'm not sure if I like it or not.

Without Feeling

One more time now, without feeling

On my knees once more with a prayer of regret

At my bedside with a day to forget

An attempt to block out what I cannot accept.

Wiser hearts than mine put these words in my mind

So I'll sing, "Out father, hallowed be Thy name."

I sing it - I won't mean a thing

But I would never feel ashamed.

Sadness is no substitute for grief

Happiness is joy without belief

I wish I could repent of what I feel about these things

But I can't, so I'll sing out one more time

with-out feeling

with-out feeling

I never said a word I really meant

In truth I have been acting my whole life

Love never spoke up as loud as my mind

Questions of science have filled up my time

Anger is an artificial hate

Affection tries to love but ends up fake

I wish I could repent of what I feel about these things

But I can't, so I'll sing out one more time -

with-out feeling

with-out feeling

I poured my mind

Into a problem it could never solve

An answer it could never find

In love and war I'm all but blind

I sold my soul

I gave my all

Or pretended that is what I did

I've never been sure

I cried for God

To heal my heart

I wanted it to love like it

did at the start

The Problem of Pain

I can't understand why everything falls apart.

I can't comprehend why anything falls at all.

And I can't begin to pick the pieces off the floor.

Oh, I won't pretend to think that I know what they're for.

The problem of pain feels like it's unsolvable.

Hurt seems to define what it means to be alive.

We leave love behind when we are living to survive.

We've had a million plans to bring about a state of change.

But time and time again things always turn out just the same.

The problem of pain feels like it's unsolvable.

'Cause every time I cry for help I find that I am by myself. I'm left without another choice but to believe the still small voice that whispers - though it stays unseen - and tells me I may be made free if only I will dare to dream and - in the darkness - dare belief.

And I'm free. And I'm free.

The problem of pain feels like it's unsolvable.

But...

The power of grace is that it's unstoppable.

And I'm free.

How long?

Everyone is dead or dying
(all are loved, but not all love)
Every eye is red from crying
(all are called, but not all come)
Everyone is held a hostage
(hope, a ransom paid in blood)
Every soul is kept in bondage
(hope, a diamond in the rough)

How long?
How long do we wait in this mire and filth?
How long?
How long do we bend from the weight of this guilt?
How long?
How long will the hallow men sing their song?
How long?
How long will we have to wait till we belong?
How long?

Every knee is raw from kneeling
(all are loved, but not all love)
Every heart is sick of beating
(all are called, but not all come)
Every hand clings to what's gone
(hope, a ransom paid in blood)
Every eye strains for the dawn
(hope, a diamond in the rough)

But the waiting ended long ago when love came down and gave us hope
Although the dawn has come so slow, our eyes can see the sun's approach
And basking in that warming glow, we'll find a place we've always known
And call it home.