Sunday, September 12, 2010

Breath of a Soldier

I will never surrender.
If my blood is to be spilt,
If my heart is to be broken,
I will bleed to the end,
Before this fortress will be breached.

I will take up my sword
And buckle my shield
I will not yield,
I will not yield.

I will follow my King beyond Hades Gates,
Through the vale of death,
Though I stumble and fall,
I will rise and rise again,
I will rise and rise again,
I will rise and rise again,
If I bleed to the end,
I will rise and rise again,
And never surrender.

Thursday, July 29, 2010

Disposable

Written by Chris Phillips and Gilbert Walker

DISPOSABLE


Please don't use, please don't use me more than once.
Because I, because you because we're all disposable Where are you?

Come with me to the sea,
and we'll swim in the ocean blue
I'll wait for you...
Come with me to the sea,
Come with me to the sea...

I am lost in the dark, broken hands, broken heart,
Now I'm stuck in my mind, in a place I can't find
By myself on the shelf, throw me out I'm beyond repair... Are you there?

Please don't use, please don't use me more than once.
Because I because you because we're all disposable

Why do you hesitate? Come now you cannot wait
Why are you standing still stuck by the window sil?

I am cold, I am scared, all alone unprepared
Smoke in the atmosphere, waiting for it to clear
So I can see blue sky (again)

Wake up dead man, Wake up dead man
Wake up dead man, pick up yourself again
Wake up dead man, recycle yourself again

Suddenly you can see what it means to be
Suddenly you can see what it means to be
Free

Pick me up, if you can understand take my hand
Use me once, use me twice, use me three times disposable....

Come with me to the sea!





Tuesday, June 8, 2010




There is a kind of music pulsing in the heart of every human.
A creative energy quietly whispering to the mind of man.
If you listen very closely, as quiet as you can
You can coax it onto paper or weave it into a melody.

My God he calleth in the glen.
His voice is soft
He calls again
I want to obey
But I can barely hear a whisper
Though I know he loves me,
loves me still.

Surreal paths over a dark void
many roads, many journeys
a strange light that comforts
and leads me on, through the darkness.

Lord are you there?
Can you hear my aching heartbeat?
Can you feel these tears of waiting
I am waiting, I am waiting
My soul is longing for that other place
The place where I can be with you.

When I get there
The tears you wipe away
are tears of joy
of pain answered.

I can't hear you Lord
I can't see you

I know you're there.
Reach out to me
Touch me.

Where is the hand of God?
Where is the horn that was blowing?
The Sons of Gondor are spent
The kingdom lies in ruin.

My ears cannot hear you
My eyes cannot see you
where are you oh Lord?
Are you inside of me?

Where have you gone?
Why did you leave us?

We're just dancing in the dust
your shadow touched

How long now?
How long now?

These desires are burning,
burning out forever into space
searching, searching, searching for a place, for a home
the Father's house to call my own


Suicide knocks gently at the edges of my mind


would not the eternal question be answered?


Alas 'tis my lot to live


and struggle through the darkness


To the light I know


but have never seen in all its glory.


I know my feet are on the right path


But God that's all I know


or is it?



I'm following the way

but I'm a blind man

Looking this way and that

for signposts others see


Why can't I see?
Why can't I see?

open my eyes
open my eyes
open my eyes

Monday, June 7, 2010

The Newcastle Blues

Listless limbs
Lounge on the sofa
A still body of emptiness.
Tired breath
No energy
But I want to do something
Make something, break something.
What to do? What to do?
Too tired to play a game with people
But I want to have some fun
Fun, fun, fun
No, you need a rest.
Forget the rest
Motivation like a stagnant lake of petrol.
No fire, no igniting flame.
Everything's the same.
Same, same, same.
Relax. Sleep some more?
Read a book?
Too much effort.
I know - I'll hire a movie.
But I've already seen all the good ones.
So I'll hire something I've never heard of.
But then it's bound to be crap.
Crap, crap, crap.
Maybe I'll eat something.
Microwave a pie, make some toast.
That was delicious.
Now what?
Listless limbs.
Lounge on the sofa.
A still body of emptiness.
Tired breath
No energy
But I want to do something.
The rabbit kept glancing down at the rolex watch on his left paw and then staring at the boy with an anxious twitching expression.

Kevin blinked. It must be my overactive imagination, he told himself, and frowned at the animal.
‘Get lost.’ He said. “I’ve got an assignment due today and I don’t need any hallucinations to distract me.” The rabbit sniffed and peered at the boy.
‘Is that you Alice?’ he squeaked in a feeble rabbity voice. Kevin smiled. He knew where this was going.
‘No, I’m Kevin,’ he said pointedly, ‘and I’m not in the mood for arguing with figments. Piss off.’
The rabbit coughed and did his best to smile.
‘Ah yes Kevin the new boy, now I remember.’ Here he paused, and spread his paws grandly, ‘I have come to invite you to wonderland! He declared and glanced down at his watch.
Kevin rolled his eyes.
‘Let me guess, you’re very late for an important date?'
'I am NOT! Returned the rabbit haughtily. I’m at least one hour early! It’s you who’s late! I’ve been waiting for you to wake up little man.’ Here he shook his long ears and seemed to remember himself,
' I have been sent to invite you…'
'I refuse!' Said Kevin, ‘Get lost!’
REVENGE

He woke up in the morning
With an anvil in his head
He woke up in the morning and
Set fire to his bed

He said, “I’m tired of being a Good Boy,
I want anarchy instead,
I want revenge.”

Because the world spins round,
And they try to pin it down.
If a man has rage
They’ll try to put him in a cage,
He said, I’m gonna find the one
Who put an end to all my fun
I’ll kill him with a razor,
I’ll kill him with a gun,
I’m sick of the system.
I’m sick of being stressed.
I choose chaos over calendars
I’m tired of being depressed.
I want revenge.

He walked out of his bedroom
On his hands instead of feet
He skipped his breakfast, slashed his tires
And took off down the street

He didn’t have a ticket
But he travelled on the train
He shot holes in folks umbrellas
With his pistol in the rain.

Because the world spins round,
And they try to pin it down.
If a man has rage
They’ll try to put him in a cage,
He said, I’m gonna find the one
Who put an end to all my fun
I’ll kill him with a razor,
I’ll kill him with a gun,
I’m sick of the system.
I’m sick of being stressed.
I choose chaos over calendars
I’m tired of being depressed.
I want revenge.


He wrote some rude graffiti
He climbed somebody’s wall
He threw some dirt, took off his shirt
And stole a shopping mall

When the cops came to arrest him
He didn’t make no fuss
He said It’s not like I’m a terrorist
Oos blowin’ up a bus,
‘just want revenge, officer

He said,
I’m tired of politicians
I’m tired of food nutritions
I’m tired of always being late
I’m tired of being overweight
I’m tired of Globalisation
I’m tired of Immunisation
I’m tired of studying women’s rights
I’m tired of seeing men in tights
I’m tired of Global warming,
I’m tired of politically correct
I’m tired of Lady Gaga
I’m tired of blah blah blah blah
I want revenge.
You know those days when it feels like the world is a metal machine and you are stuck in the grind of an eternal conveyor belt endlessly spinning and turning out of control?

Well it was not one of those days.

It was a golden day.

Golden days are a stirred mix of ingredients that create a zesty aroma of spice and excitement.
On a Golden day you get a lot of work done in a small amount of time, and then you get that wierd happy sensation of not knowing what to do because you're ahead of schedule.
This sensation gives way to pixie glee, outburst snatches of songs and a vertical lengthening of the lip corners.

At this point, a friend is likely to call and ask you to do him a favour if you have any time to spare... (You might, you might not, but what is really important is the next bit)

After the friend favour comes the call to peculiarity. The call to peculiarity may be a sudden urge to climb a tree and play guitar, it may be a random phone call inviting you to a tea party, it could be anything, anything at all... but it's going to be peculiar because you wouldn't have done it if you had work.
The call to peculiarity is usually an invitation to laugh, to do something absurd, to talk to a random on the bus.
The call is an essential ingredient in the Golden day.