Terminal

I'm standing here in the terminal
with nothing left to do
but i know I've been through that
and I'm just waiting here for you
when i think you've run out of time
you'll walk in here with your hair let out
and a wild look in your eyes
ya don't want me to go
you tell me you were wrong
to ever let me go
and how you want me back
but i stand here in the terminal
and this time it's for real
and if you want some proof
don't stay aloof
but stay here for a while
and we'll wait for the train
to New York city, Kansas and the world
and I'll be on my way
and then you'll say
"I shoulda never held you back"
you shoulda never held me back

I wait for you
in the terminal
yeah I'm leaving soon
and I'll see it all
there's no missing you
till i see your eyes
so don't see me off
at the terminal

you meet me there
got a look in your eyes
says don't leave now
and I'd like to try
but truth is not dead
as it screams in my face
so I won't let go
of this sacred day
before someone gets burned
I'm walking away

keyless resuscitation

it 's time for keyless resuscitation
of a cold heart and a cold mind returning
returning to the pattern lost in the dead of November
lost on a lost highway in a lost city in a lost nowhere of the soul

no whole nothing filling my mind
no free something for the time
must be soon before I break down
must be soon for me to be crying

so much angry noise filling the station
the red ears and red photo eyes are burning
burning cold like the flames of the life i sometimes remember
flames for the feeling flames for the fire flames for all of the everything gone cold

no whole nothing filling my mind
no free something for the time
must be soon before I break down
must be soon for me to be crying

must be someday I will arise
no scream shouting in my eyes

I cry for the mother losing a child
burn for the orchestra going wild
walk alone through my new hometown
and scream for the very last time

no whole nothing no whole nothing no whole nothing
clouding my mind
no free something for the very last time
I'll burn like a bomb if I don't go wild
so light a match and test the whiles
of a forgotten mind lost on a lost highway in November

rayguns and marionettes

here's a sonnet i've been writing. hope you like it.
fool sitting here typing

Rayguns and Marionettes
my foes and friends are dancing marionettes
with colored rayguns in their wooden grips
who's he who pulls the strings and takes the bets
and all in secret makes the scales tip

he gives the puppets choice of wrong or right
but pulls the hidden strings and makes them turn
to face the audience of empty sight
and he decides if they will live or burn

and in my grip's a raygun much as them
the trigger held so tightly for the sting
of enemies and to protect my friends
I too a victim of the puppet strings

but merciful the master puppeteer
for enter left his son cries puppet tears

happy tears

I had a crazy experience the other week while camping. I was sitting by the campfire and it was late, about 1 or 2 in the morning, and there was just me and Stoph there. I must have been zoning out or deep in thought or something because suddenly it's like I just woke up and realized that there was no place on earth that I'd rather be than exactly where I was because it's where God wanted me to be and I started crying. just for a few seconds but it was crazy because the strength and depth of emotion that I was feeling was enough to bring me to tears. A couple of weeks before at the beginning of family camp, Bob asked if anyone wanted prayer and I said I wanted prayer for direction so people were praying for me and then Lauren Macdonald had this crazy word something about the timing not being right or something and it was weird because there's no way she could have thought it could even meant anything, but I knew right away that it meant I wasn't supposed to go back to Trinity in the fall. probably ranking in one of the top ten hardest things I've ever done was deciding not to go to Trinity this semester, but I know that his hand is in it and he's got awesome plans. I think that realization was what brought me to tears because I had been struggling with it for a couple of weeks and finally I just let it go and there was this huge sense of freedom when I let go of what I wanted to do and submitted to God's will. sleep calls,
fool sitting here typing

things to do

That's really not cool, although my blogging usually does slow down in the summer and speed up in the winter, I've only posted once this month (and last month, and the month before). At least I haven't missed any months. Right now I'm in a mad frenzy to get everything that needs to be done, done before I go to Fintry in about a week. That includes returning a spare tire that I've had for months, getting my student loans ready (why do I wait so long?), getting a paycheck for working out in Maple Ridge, and registering for staying on campus in September. Most of these things are things that I've put off an inordinate amount... actually that would be all of them. and some of them are pretty much essential... so it begs the question, why am I here blogging instead of doing them? and why is my grammar and punctuation so screwed up? I don't know, these are questions that require some deep soul searching to answer and frankly i just don't have the time because i have things to do.

park ranger

happy hour at the saint sally sanitarium

this song started with the first half of the Peruvian flutist verse, because pretty much exactly that drama was played out down the street from where I work and it was amazing and intriguing, but i didn't have any place for that lyric until today when I typed the words "happy hour at the saint sally sanitarium" and it suddenly all clicked together into place and I knew exactly what I wanted to do with this song. it doesn't have music yet, but my Mom found my harmonica inside an armchair in our house the other day so I'm going to dust it off and actually come up with something... seriously, the prospect of me doing that is scary, but it absolutely must happen. hope you enjoy these lyrics, but please give me your honest opinion.

The old man in the corner, talking a mile a minute
was telling the sparrows that the war was over,
as they collected on the windowsill
bright flashes of white on brown,
the gentle pull of the breeze, pulling me down
it's happy hour at the saint sally sanitarium

[chorus]
take me back
take me back
I want to go home
please take me home
I wont spend the rest of my days
counting footsteps to the grave
wasting the rays of the fading sun
in happy hour at the saint sally sanitarium

the blue collar has not looked great
covered in ignoble stains
on the white collar worker of late,
but the kind nurse will have it replaced,
and the president of the society of Regina philanthropists and old men with money to spend takes his place
at the head of the table for elders and saints

as the peruvian flutist, sitting lonely plays his dirge
the dirty mother of his sons returns
a cry of joy spreads across his face
and casting down his flute they embrace
and this is the joy that comprises the sum
of happy hour at the saint sally sanitarium

facebook is of the devil

I'm really mad. I'm really mad firstly at myself for not updating this blog, but also at facebook for eating into my blogging time and making it hard for me to find the impetus to blog. Really, I'm raving mad. Mad enough smash something... or just rant about it I guess. In fact I'm not all that mad, it's really weird, but in this age of uber-connectedness (we're as connected as that "uber" is to that "connectedness"... like connected by dashes... and things...) it's so easy to stimulate emotions on command. All you have to do, for instance to stimulate the emotion of anger, is think of, for example, all the child prostitution that goes on in Thailand and how the government is so tolerant of this practice and they don't even lift a bloody finger to stop the trafficking of little children into brothels... grr.. it makes me want to smash something (or someone) I'm so angry. see, I'll bet you're angry. and then you could just think really hard about the fact that no one has left you a facebook message in the past week and you might just break down crying out of loneliness. and then you could search google images for the word "barf" and you'd feel sick to the pit of your stomach (seriously don't though, it's pretty gross). But anyways all those emotions are just false nothings and seeing those pictures of barf and Micheal Jackson are making me feel sick so I'm gonna go do something else now... and like not facebooking... because that's evil... and because the first half of this post was saved as a draft for about half a week because I was facebooking... it makes me soooooo angry...

zen master