A Poem: Rocks

Rocks

A stone laid at my feet shines in the sun

The cool spring breeze rolls over my back

The trees and their  branches wave hello

I hear a whisper the stone is calling

Such a fine day the ponds water sits still

Still the stone is calling with its whisper

In my mind my youth my hope abounds

Days filed with skipping rocks

Across the pond they skipped till sinking

Birds passing waving goodbye to the stones

The beach so plentiful so many rocks shining

Again I would leave and again return

In the spring and summer the rock waited

Holding fast they held the shore and erosion at bay

The water so persistent always breaking against the earth

My hands dry through the test of time the rocks wait

Sturdy and strong they hold

Till it is there time to go skipping

A hawk cries in the background of a autumn day

My eyes ever piercing look all around

The rocks now fewer for years of skipping

I see new shapes on the horizon

Docks, bridges and even homes so strong

Holding the test of time holding the warmth of love

All built with rocks so small so strong

Together in creation far and wide

My eyes dimming still see the day

Will I build or skip today

New Song: Who Am I?

Click here to listen to the song!

I write music in my free time. I don't really align with just one genre. Very early on I did a lot of "metal" music and was in a few "hard rock/heavy metal" bands. This song is indicative of that genre. If you like other types of music I would checking some of my other songs out. They range from this all the way to "Pop" music. You can catch them at:

http://www.reverbnation.com/whisperbehindthelight

We all got somebody or had somebody in our life that just didn't make sense and we felt as if they were a fair weather friend. This song goes out to those types of song. I am a lot more careful now about my "friends". I dunno think what you think and do what you do this is me.

“Who Am I?”

Who am I?

Nothing?

I don’t know much of what your doing now

All I know is that I think you hate me

I gotta guess cause you won’t talk to me

It’s really old but I gotta move on yeah

What could I say I had to move on yeah

Before my death became the flame

That lit the room of all the dead voices

The one that I had to try and leave

I could have stayed and let them eat me

Every word and its poison taste

Who am I to try and live a life now

Who am I to try and live free

Who am I?

Nothing?

Who am I?

Something?

I need this peace in me 

Before I drown

I know you needed me

We all need a clown

Lets watch the jester dance sneer all the fiends 

But when your backs not turned your a friend to me

You’ll raise a mug of ale to ease my pain

Then sit and watch me dance and incinerate

Two times is much to much for friends like you

Who just want entertainment from a bag of fools

Its gone on way to long now  the tables turn

Its time to be set free and watch the watchers burn

Who am I?

Nothing?

Who am I?

Something?

Who am I?

Nothing?

Who am I?

Something?

Was every word you spoke to me 

Just a pile of lies

Was every time you hung with me

Just more fuel for your fire

Was there any sincerity

In any words you spoke

Or was I just a joke to you

You could sit and watch and choke

Who am I?

Nothing?

Who am I?

Something?

Who am I?

Nothing?

Who am I?

Something?

A Poem: Changing of the Gaurd

Changing of the Guard

My shadow stretches out in front of me

The moon calling it rises from its slumber

The cry of a small child rings in the distance

No one wonders whet its for

Claws ready to clinch the flower it may just die

A whistle blows and winter begins 

What might bold back the lies

Ever waiting the skinny old man licks his lips

The young virgin runs from the market

He knows his time is coming to be sold

Three rats per the pound

Fishing for a deal in this bounty

The cold stretching shadow has no boundaries

No where to hid from tis reach

Multitudes clap and whistle 

Fresh meat is on display

Each snap a counter weight for judgment

The highest bidder inside the question

Outside of himself strung up along

No one questions no one saves

The best has come first 

On parade are the leftovers

Far off the side a lamp is lit

It shines and dares to cast off the shadow

Few heads turn for the reaping

To blind to see a new rising

Oiled and strong the gears turn

A new hour has begun

Where Are You Going?

Sometimes we do things and we do not know why. Its really important to pay attention to what we are doing and why we are doing it. It is so easy to go through life on auto pilot. We may go places but miss the point and the experiences along the way. I have the privilege to be the father of 4 young children and like any other parent I have my patience and wit tested on nearly a daily basis. I try to be very slow to anger. I try often to pause and put them sitting at the table or out of eyesight while I deliberate how to handle the situation. I feel very lucky to be a father for I learn so much from my children from their mistakes and the paths that they attempt to take through the world. I have to remind myself that they are blank slates and need guidance and tutelage to get through life's everyday curves, slopes and temptations. Often I find myself going back in time remembering when I did similar things, and as I dole any punishment if needed I speak with a compassionate tone. I often ask if they have any questions to make sure that they understand. We are all on a path and it is important to understand where we are going and why and what values we will use to guide us for on every journey is not done in solitude. We meet so many people along the way and affect their lives as we cross them. I am thankful that I have learned the value of reading my Bible and the teachings that it has to offer. I learn so much on where I am going and what to be prepared for when I am on my way. I encourage you to do the same. I know that it may be intimidating or you may feel that it is down right stupid, but there is knowledge there. And as we walk through life it is wise to have the guidance of others that have walked our similar roads so many times before. Ask if you have questions, be patient not many things in the Bible happen very quickly. There is purpose in that. So be aware of what is out there for yes there are those that find pleasure in swaying your opinions and path in life. The most important question of all though is, where do you want to go? Matthew 11: 2 - 11
2	Now when John heard in prison about the deeds of the Christ, he sent word by his disciples
3	and said to him, "Are you he who is to come, or shall we look for another?"
4	And Jesus answered them, "Go and tell John what you hear and see:
5	the blind receive their sight and the lame walk, lepers are cleansed and the deaf hear, and the dead are raised up, and the poor have good news preached to them.
6	And blessed is he who takes no offense at me."
7	As they went away, Jesus began to speak to the crowds concerning John: "What did you go out into the wilderness to behold? A reed shaken by the wind?
8	Why then did you go out? To see a man clothed in soft raiment? Behold, those who wear soft raiment are in kings' houses.
9	Why then did you go out? To see a prophet? Yes, I tell you, and more than a prophet.
10	This is he of whom it is written, `Behold, I send my messenger before thy face, who shall prepare thy way before thee.'
11	Truly, I say to you, among those born of women there has risen no one greater than John the Baptist; yet he who is least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he.

A Poem: Forgiveness

“Forgiveness”

A small gift floats dan and perches on my shoulder

Light that is beautiful surrounds me 

Melting it soaks into my skin

Its warmth becomes mine I am undeserving

Alive with its glow I pass through life

A way for others I could show but not for me but you

Cold and naked I sat on jagged rocks 

Ignorant and ashamed I hid from the world

Seeing for miles I could to see you next to me

I felt your smile the whisper of hope

Ankles and wrists are scarred from slavery

With my knees on the ground your key melts away the chains

In the open prairie I dance

The soil I till it is fruitful gifts received from you

In the summer tending garden my hand is lacerated

Pooling on the ground my blood is with the weeds

Watering them the weeds grow wrapping around my neck, wrists and ankles

I begin to be choked and die

To my knees I fall grasping for a breath

My eyes look up to the sun now gone

Blotted out by the tall weeds of shame

As my tear falls yet another gift floats down

All is well in me

A Poem: Who's the Keeper

Who’s the Keeper

Turning back on the old wheel spinning round

Frozen in the cold of my station 

Hearts pumping an old tars viscosity

Hold up the flower and beg for sunshine

In and out with my eyes ope rolled and blood shot

The old woman waves a toothless grin

She wants to steal the child’s bread

Starvation is the new character moral

Dance with spinning hungry lions

The blood will never drip slowly

The vultures like to wait for the cries 

Music that floats on a the pain of a man

Tears that roll down the cheeks of a beautiful woman

She has the key they want her

He is demeaned he’s bloated

Where is the path that holds the spring rivers truth

Is it hidden by the weeds or are dying roses to pretty to look past

The wheel spins and creaks in the wind

The desert heat is the rich man smile

Sell another button for proud fan fair

He bows and all members of court applaud 

Without him the would have to think

Without him they might be free

Being free the might fail

Failing they might get hurt

They are luck the fat rich man keeps them safe

Out of trouble in the desert

Waide's Story: Out the Door

Out the Door

Waide passed out the door to his apartment and quickly got in his car. His so called friends lamented that he was the worst driver in the world due to the fact that he always drove under the speed limit. He had a spell of a recklessness in the past but it caught up with him one day ending in a bad car accident. He totaled his fathers car and some of the passengers in the other car were hurt, but not too bad. It was yet another reality check of what he could do when he went about his life care free. He loved to drive fast though he never would. He always tried to stay at least 3 mile an hour under the speed limit and paused grossly at stop signs. He couldn’t stand to have another accident he could stand to make another mistake. His life was already bad enough. Buckling his seatbelt he quickly checked his mirrors and backed out of his parking spot. Something caught his eye, it was the woman with red hair. He had noticed her many times before but never said a word to her let alone smile at her. He always noticed the necklace that she wore. He couldn’t make it out what kind of pendent was hanging on it. The object was rather small and just glittered in the sun like some sort of homing beacon. Waide would fantasize every once in a while about having a conversation with her maybe even going to the grocery store. That was one of his favorite places to watch people. He could tell a lot about a person by what kind of groceries he saw in other peoples carts. Waide always used a basket because he rarely bought that much in advance and those green reusable bags made him feel like he wasn’t much of a man. 

“What the hell are you doing? Stay on task and get to work before you are late!”, exclaimed the voice in his head. “Shut up just shut up and leave me alone”, Waide exclaimed back out loud. Quickly he looked around to see if anyone noticed that he was yelling at himself. He always kept his cellphone handy though in case someone did see him. He could always just wave it at the impending watcher and act as if he was talking hands free to someone. No one was looking though especially the red headed woman. She was now out of sight. Waide put the car into gear and slowly backed out of his parking spot and pulled forward out of the parking lot of his building. Off to work he started to scan the radio for something interesting to listen to. He liked a wide variety of music. It was about the only thing that kept his conscience at bay and kept him in a good place when the voices got particularly loud. It was a mild summer morning and the traffic wasn’t bad. He got there about ten minutes early as planned so that he wouldn’t have to rush in and jump to work. He parked his car and walked across the parking lot there were already quite a few cars there. As he walked through the restaurant and into the dish room to take his position it was clear that it was going to be a busy day. With no one else there were already about fifteen bus tubs full of dishes waiting for him. Waide sighed and walked in started unloading the dishes into various sorted stacks. 

“Mmm Mmm, gotta get me some of that”, the female voice was all to familiar. Waide tried to ignore but felt guilty that it would be too unkind a thing to do. “Yeah this slop is to die for huh?”, Waide slowly turned around and looked at Brooke out of the corner of his eye.

“Well that slop aint what I’m talking about”, Brooke replied. Indeed it was going to be a long day for Waide. He had barely even started and he already started to feel overwhelmingly dirty.

A Poem: Walking In A Circle

Walking In A Circle

Hold out for a century

My arms are getting tired

The chains that bind my fee and hands are starting to burn

I watch a blister forming

I feel the sand paper burn

Inside my last dimension where my fever starts to swell

Infected by the anger

Decaying with its puss

I am a lone survivor who nobody wants to trust

In and out of conscience

Hoping for a star

Waiting for some new relief

Being quaint seems so dire

Listening for the train now

Waiting by the line

Holding out for last resorts

As I walk away from this

Poem: Outside the Party

“Outside the Party”

Feeling the open air I am still in the birdcage

Watching the earth spinning by smiling

They tell me the water is great “come in”

Slowly the door shuts on the dark room

The sand sifts slowly down its hard to breath

I change my shape in seconds to minutes

Weeks pass I feel the sickness growing

A haunting mother tries to nurse her children

Children dance and laugh on the clock

The hands spin the scythes are sharp

The old man butcher is never out of work

Too many to feed that can’t walk on their own

Their fat weighs them down and breaks their legs

A lace handkerchief floats by

It holds an intoxicifying scent of youth unchained

A lucky soul has broke free of the wheel

Bloodstained gears are not fed by it

far is the horizon with its golden call

Its soul sweet it pacifies the soul

A promise after fade that young children will giggle

A welcoming smile from the homely mother

Rest will be endless with the work al done

The earth will slow its spin

The cold will loose its edge

A new manor will open its door

Waide's Story: Moving Forward

Moving Forward

“What are you doing?”, whispered the voice inside his head. “Nothing, and shut up!” Waide exclaimed aloud. His conscience was getting the better of him and being rather loud today. Suddenly a vivid flashback of washing dishes at his boyhood home. He dropped one of his mother’s favorite drinking glasses and it shattered helplessly on the floor. The whole sequence seemed to happen in slow motion. He tried to grab the glass but he was just too slow. The shattering noise of the glass echoed and slowly morphed in to his mother screaming, “What are you doing? Pay attention!”, the scowl on her face shook his mind. Waide loved his mother very much and making her upset was something he  couldn’t handle. Whenever he disappointed his mother he felt like he would have to do one hundred right things to make up for each wrong, but even that wouldn’t be enough.

Waide stood there with his face starring in the mirror trying to complete his morning routine. His head still pounding he refused to grab anything for the pain out of his medicine cabinet. Maybe he felt he deserved the pain for drinking too much last night. Maybe he deserved the pain because it reminded him that he was alive. He still had time to make things right if he was. He still had time to find the answers. He still had time for things that he didn’t know he needed time for. After finishing the mundane tasks at hand he exited the bathroom. He put on his uniform and prepared to go to work. No matter how much he washed his clothes or what he used they still stunk of that restaurant. Washing five thousand dishes a day, the stench would become a part of the clothing as the dye in the cloth was. He worried that he smelled the same way or worse. The last thing he wanted was that stench following him through life. Always marked always known as a nothing. Head hung low he walked out the door of his apartment. He always told himself that he starred at the floor walking because he was afraid of tripping. He was such a klutz, but really there was more to it. He was ashamed, alone and undeserving. If he just stayed in his own little world then he might be safe except from himself until. Until he saw those eyes. Then he was done for, nothing would be the same after he looked into her eyes.