wait for it

I encourage you all to consider this deeply.

a pain-hope career (part 6)

Water gently lapped
at halls end,
ankle deep in
a large circular place.

The ceiling bent upward,
over the shallow pool,
like an old mosque.
He heard someone shouting.

"Across the water! Tread!"
A large nosed man beckoned.
Kumiko's hand dropped
from the wall and his feet splashed.

Careless of the blood
that drifted straight forward
he walked left. Quickly
the grey trail was lost.

Ripples circled
around the columns that
reached into the dome.
"Come, come! You'll be welcomed

The meeting is almost full,
but we'll make room for more."
The man motioned
at the door next to him.

Kumiko saw a glow
inside men were seated
facing some kind of pulpit.
They all mumbled,

and ignored their shadows.

FIN
in other news. I am still in Maryland till Nov. 4th then I am going to Seattle for about a month. So my MD homies (esp the boonons) I am still here and we should chill.

behind every door

face up
or face down
the reasons are always
too heavy to settle in my hand.

I know
you are
the planner, even of whims.
I'm sure, you'll be right,
behind every door.

cut out
all the
constant questions,
let go of the raging.

I'll quit
fighting you.
you made me, so shape me.
I'm sure you'll be right,
behind every door.


FIN
new song. should be on the upcoming album for my side project (meaning this is not Anapra), called "Our adventure, at the end of the world"

Video Interviews from our Show

Here is a video of me interviewing the bands Edison Glass and Bernard before our show with them last Sunday at The Noteworthy in Bedford, PA.



Here are two more videos of me interviewing people waiting outside before that same show. I asked them what they thought of our band name Anapra

a pain-hope career (part 5)

The silence fell asleep
with the smith,
leaned back, sledge draped
through fingers hung from palm.

Then a switch occurred.
The lock on the boys eyes
released---stepping
toward the door, still gaped.

"I need you to run an errand."
Smith never fully slept,
leaned now forward.
"Your name?" with eyebrow cocked.

"Kumiko, I'm called,"
whispered movementless.
He glanced at Smith and spoke.
"I thought you slept."

"I don't allow dreams, control.
I stay anchored here."
said smith,
one finger toward the hall.

"Shadow's gone now.
Follow his blood trail,
through that hallway and then
keep till he's found."

Smith was still pointing.
convincing urgency
in his heavy eyes.
The boy looked and entered.

The hallway was silent
one hand ran the wall
growing peace in each step,
he would not soon go home.

FIN

They will bomb us out

Build this wall between
unheard and unseen
We'll stay huddled down
Hidden underground.

and don't breath too loud
cuz they will bomb us out
It's not easy
cuz we're not aloud to

lace your fingers tight
on knees but not in tomb.
whisper prayers out,
He hears without sound.

FIN
This is a song/poem that I wrote. Should be on an upcoming recording.

a pain-hope career (part 4)

Silence was cut
the red glowing thorn
rotated in palm,
Shadow stood throated.

A mist of grey blood
easing from dead larynx
it squealed and attempted
to dirty the blade

transparent hands moving
from neck to blade
wiping vigorously
...

"still hot"
spoke the relaxed smith
as streaks of grey
burnt off bright steel

"She will come, or won't.
I don't control that.
I keep this ready;
I don't chase thought."

Shadow staggered-
-half fell out of the room
down a hallway
before starting to wretch

The resounding clash
began again, tearing
over the shadows,
fading whispers of ruin

folding again and again
the hot metal passed
from one hardness
to the next, through placed blows.

All paused in time
the smith,
"She will come...Or she won't."
The hammer went down.


FIN

A pain-hope career (part 3)

Passing the door jam
passing from sun
was a place intermittent
breathing darkness and sparks.

A rattle of metal
before each burst of noise
a broken wooden wall
parted with gaps peering in,

And on the other side
A massive sweating man
wrapped in determined muscle.

His heaving back
throwing down his arm
and the hammer with force of tears.

In his other hand
a hilt clanked,
slid and flipped
over the swollen anvil.

A second sound slid into the room
a hiss.
Leaking from another
Just beside the metal worker.

A thin shadow
breathing it's hiss
raising it's voice to whisper
an indirect-

"May be worthless," he said,
"The steal might never be used."
no attention returned
Just an affirmed grip on the hilt.

"May be wasted" the darkness leaned in,
What will your work be for,
When you go home to no one
and there's nothing but walls to tell?"

"Will you cut them?
When the walls don't respond
cut them with steal that
really was never yours"

The striking steal halted,
the neck slowly turned and
an eyebrow was raised.
The shadow had finally gotten attention.

"She might never hold it..."
it whispered and left the silence to speak.


FIN
I would have added this before, but my internet connection was bad in Mexico. So here it is. Hope you guys like it. By the way I lost my original intention to make this a 3 part series, it's gonna be longer.

A pain-hope career (part 2)

through hovels and huddles
thick with people in rags
unnoticed, out of place
following...listening

din and hum decreasing
from a now thinning crowd,
less people in the heart
of these webbing streets.

the sound continues on
thrusting itself, rifling,
unchecked becoming all,
All of his attention.

Donning it's voice each time
"come, come, come..." Repeated.
and then, the source is open.
a door gaping at streets end


FIN
Struggled with this one. I was trying to keep the parts coming since it's a series poem, but it's difficult to write in a sleepless tour van with all kinds of rhythmic metal blasting.

PS Stones Overturned guys, you are all supa friends. Thanks for going on tour with us!

PPS Mike B thanks for encouraging me about the first part of this series. You convinced me to keep trying on this difficult section.

A pain-hope career (part 1)

A clanging foreign noise
drifts ricocheting to his ears
off walls and alley ways.

He, caught in mid breath
to discern the sound,
stops to peer through chain links.

Eyes coming buildings
just past the barbed wire.
"That district is a slum."

A collar of white leash,
forbids him to walk
on that side of the barrier.

...seconds pass
His thumb slips a top button
as his feet creep into the ghetto

The noise leads past
buildings lined with corrosion,
aged, dying municipal blocks.

The repeating steal chime
pulls him in on wary feet
through the arteries of a forsaken city.

unresting curiosity pushing him
to find a source, or a reason
for an alarm in a dead place.

FIN (Part 1)

This is my first entry on a series I am doing called "A pain-hope career". All the poems in this series will tell one story. So sorry to leave you hanging. I wrote Part 1 over nine times (not including revisions of those 9 drafts) to get it to this point. I hope you guys like it.

Nothing, but the hint of a wraith.

I sprint, but no one's chasing,
in clothes not meant for excersize.
all the digital voices won't stop me
I will get there in time.

To get one arm around your torso,
and pull you from the fire
because I'm already dead
Still in this dead world for you.

I left another airport for you
closed another door,
left words unsaid,
smiled with crying eyes
and turned the key again.

I bear a burden, right now,
of a thousand member betrothed
I cannot even hardly
I can't even hardly...

My presence is a faint hint
as I clear the building's sniper
so your progress is not hindered.
on the route you must pass through.

I leave another airport for you
close another door
leave words unsaid
smile with crying eyes
and turn the key again.

For now,
I stand at attention,
at a distance.
trying to still certain emotions.

dead, in this dead world for you.
Being a wraith seems more useful
than being a man
more prepared for the world to come.

FIN
well, this is new for me. A more personal poem, than usual, but my recent trip to Seattle was very personal. This came out of it.

Word to my homies from Seattle. I love you guys so much! so so so much.
Ryan

PS Nina, I am not sure if you are the only Seattle person who reads this, but if you are please let any of the Skate church crew (who might like this blog) know about it.

A single day mindset

Page after page
He sharpens his steel
A silhouette like a mountain
against the confetti sky

Unmoving
except to turn papers
his edge cutting
through time and emotions
undeviated, smoothly passing

He is content with black
and white words,
to let cinema pass
along with lies.

Only one day getting up
with sword in hand
prepared for
the returning of God.

Sleep exhaust

Flailing one arm
losing balance
He falls on a frameless bed.

looks as if dead...
...Respiration,
nah, he's still there.

"God, don't let me dream something bad.
It's bad enough that I'm bad when I'm awake."

Curled up
like a fetus
The picture drifts in.

coming, more
luminescent
A place new to him.


FIN

I guess since I am neal's friend I have to use the word fetus somewhere.

Barrel Fire

I took all your greenbacks
and put them in barrels
I started a fire
for the homeless

you looked at me
like you couldn't believe it
You said I'd burnt our provision.

but the money won't last
and the papers won't breath
still no one seems to know this
ugh, no one seems to notice this.

You could have seen
all their warm faces
lit by the flames reaching upward
into the dark.

warm for a moment,
but you were all stormy
couldn't enjoy
voiceless and worried.

The money can't laugh
and the papers won't breathe
but no one seems to know this
no one seems to notice this.

FIN



It's been a while since I added a poem. I took a break to read other authors. I'm not at all a self sustained writer. I have to read to write well.


This one is actually a song that I sang to open last nights show in Rockville, MD. It was a fun show Ju Ju and the Kings of England were there as well! ah English Royalty.
peace,
Ryan

Family

Stay near me;
because I am weak all the time
and even more weak other times.

Still call me
Family
When I collapse.

Skinny
and ignorant
vulnerable
stupid.

I falter after emotion.

Stay near me
still call me
Family

because if you don't find my shoulder
to protect me
to keep me
then I'm lost.

So, please
keep me
you're my family.


Fin


So, it's Monday night and I wasn't able to find someone to do somethin with. I think I am going to go play hackey sack at a well lit gas station now that I am done with this poem.

Yarn.

in a second

I didn't sleep last night. I am not very good at sleeping in the first place, but last night...dag. So anyway, when you really tired and really can't sleep you do wierd things to try and fight it (aka try to sleep). Last night I tried keeping my eyes shut for as long as possible. I started probably about 2am and I must have laid there just like that for 3 hours fully concious, but refusing to open my eyes or move. I finally got up to stretch hoping it would make me sleepy. Then I tried again, this time with my head between two pillows. After about another hour of not moving or opening my eyes, I got to thinking about Heaven, the removal of sin from relationships, and seeing God face to face. It's a beautiful group of things to think about. I finally moved the pillow to see what time it was and thought, "Man who is shinning their headlights into my window...holly crap it's morning"

If I hadn't been so tired I would have laughed, cuz I guess that is prolly how paradise will come on us as well.



More than watchmen wait for the morning
You will be the light by which we see

When we walk through the wheat fields
and fear nothing at our sides

When the separations are over
and the arms length is gone

When the long night is dead
and the day has finally come

More than watchmen wait for the morning
We wait for paradise.

An Interrupting Voice

Hurried movement,
is this road;
A constant
restless pace

There must be a thing
or at least an end.
eventually...
Somewhere ahead

I'm self convinced
that there's a reason,
For always moving
on this road.

some running flat.
some wearing packs.
unsettled in
one direction.

teeth gritting
even clawing
always, always,
movement.

But I want
to finish
to arrive...
...I am tired

after so long
In heated movement
I fear I am dying
without finding...it,
the thing or the end

One voice interrupts
but it takes time
to cut my stare
from the road.

"You're dying"
He says,
"and there is nothing,
no end"

then through kicked dust
and the trample of footsteps
I see him.
I stop.
I understand.

Nothing, no end.
Just Him
and now
Rest

Prepared

Particles Drift
Through the lit air
Above my sealed eyes

You open the door
Just to bring bad news again
She's off track and likes another guy

Rise to my elbows
and squint
Slowly spreading grin

If the world dies today, I'm going to laugh.

So,
This is your storm crow,
announcement,
It's really not that bad.

Your feet aren't that ugly
When you walk in

and my interests are forever split
from here.

If the world dies today, I'm going to laugh

So, roll your eyes
and leave my habitation.
cuz I'm prepared
for everything to leave me.

I'll fall back asleep
just boxers and bones on the floor

Particles Drift
Through the lit air
above my sealed eyes...

Apostle

He exited
An exposed drainage tunnel

Shadowed and
Ashen skin
Cut to Scars

By voices
Free to speak
From what he read

When he treads
He passes with her
Held close in
And out of view

Out of his eyesight
But in his whispered prayer

With boulders like knuckles
He holds his brow
And waits with her
In his brain

A slow forged sage
With a delicate spot
Harder than war
Longing to bring her home

Happy

I apologized to the guys in the band last night. I needed to. Self-righteous jerks should apologize often and so I should apologize often. I realized that I had been ticked at one or another of the guys at our last 3 shows. The problem was that I was comparing myself against them and (in my biased opinion) I was doing a better job at this band thing. Conveniently I have been ignoring my own mistakes.

Well, that's just screwed up and wrong, so I apologized. I am supposed to be the leader and I am probably the worst example here. I was really happy afterward, they forgave me and I remembered grace. Jesus died and conquered death for the wrong things I do like this. Grace is great and so are the guys in my band.

The Disconnect

I crash landed, flying with no navigator.
Pulled back my goggles,
To the bleak sand

My boots left marks, as I marched through the desert.
Searching for help
To mend what was crashed.

A copilot or navigator
To aid in flight
I could teach them
I knew how

For years I had looked
Over manuals and memorized.
Took care to learn
To instruct

What good is knowledge,
with no friend to tell?
Sun cooked I
Began to crawl

Until I found her
Excited to see a person
I sat back, squinted up
To see her outstretched hand

My thought was help
The gesture to help me stand

But as my blurred eyes focused
I saw the list.

*2 rings I can be proud of.
*Monthly clothes shopping.
*An outfit for every occasion.
*A cute house.
*A movie night weekly.
*No complaining when I like actors more than my pilot.
*A consistent upgrade in lifestyle.
*Retirement savings.
*Always hold the door.
*A predictable daily schedule.
*The wedding I already planned regardless of who you are.

Discouraged I handed the list back.
"Sorry, Princess" I said.
"I don't know who you’re looking for,
But do you know where I can find a mechanic?"

She didn't answer.
She was already walking away.

something to understand later

Had a strange night last night. I will spare you how I got there, but I ended up spending most of the evening driving with an old stranger. He was talking with a slight stutter when he got in my car. A pair of long john bottoms was wrapped around his neck for warmth, an old Orioles baseball cap on his head and fingers as thick as my thumb stuck out the bottom of his white coat.
I drove to Sears. While purchasing a car battery he plugged in his cell phone charger to a wall socket for all of 2 minutes. He stammered about how his son had written him a 22 page letter and how much good it had done his heart.
We didn’t find his car, I am not sure it was even there. Soon we were driving back toward where I live and he was talking on and on about his family. His eyebrows twitched and he sniffled occasionally as he changed the topic from his beloved son to his frightening wife.
“She hit me right in the spine! Knocked me down and got the kids to beat on me. That’s no Christian thing to do,” He repeated.
It got worse from there. He ignored anything I said to stop him talking about his terrible wife, until he drifted to sleep in the middle of his rant. It was really quiet, just the hum of highway 70 and him breathing into the long johns as his head slumped.
When he awoke he told such terrible stories about his family that I wanted to cry right there in front of him, but my tear ducts don’t work. His monologue spanned most of the 2 hour car ride and I was not surprised when the ever-changing directions finally led to a homeless shelter. The people there were friendly even the guy who was strung out and jittering was nice. I got lost in the hallway trying to find my way back out to my car. When I finally started the engine and the drive for home, I thought about how unimportant and powerless I am in myself. A car ride was all I could give him, I couldn’t help his wife, or his kids, or his mind. I will have to leave it to God to help Bob.

I can't believe we still have fans

VIDEO CLIP

A poem about Juarez

My dreaming (a poem about Juarez, which i really do dream about)

Dumpster diving
with dead leaf hands
Alley ways
and new homeless friends

extend and greet
those I don't know
boulder knuckles
contained in hand shakes

They wonder how
my eyes are so bright
I still stare at
skin so even dark

dried up under feet
a river so low
people shuffle
cars rumble

mountain viewing
all of the days
and in come the nights
driving broken streets

Lost a good friend

A very good friend of mine died Tuesday morning. I spent a decent amount of my recent vacation in Mexico with him. His name is Oscar.

I have lost people before, but it's still such an odd feeling, as if I am trying to stand up and I am sure that I can, but each time I fall because my legs refuse to help. It's an odd vacancy.

It's also a happy thing. He is in paradise with Jesus; what could be better? I am sure he is happy to be free from anemia, blood pressure problems,relational problems, and as well he has what he told me he was looking for the most. He is with God.

We spent many late nights praying for each other. I will miss that exceptionally, until I meet him again.

Here is a song I sang the other night at our show, I had no idea how relevant it was going to be.

These are the lyrics and below is the video clip.

I recognized
Why I got so sad
in reading photographs

Even when it's smiles and laughs

I misunderstood the very nature of this place
I thought of this as home,but it's not

Then suddenly
my house looked foreign to me

things I once clung to
no longer holding me

and even my life
seemed so much more willing to be spent

I thought of this as home,
but it's not.

Video - I thought of this as home

attention pertinent info for Seattle friends

I emailed Nina (our Seattle magician) and looks like I am coming to Seattle sometime in the near future.

Nina, Mrs. Boe (&Mr. B ((funny guy))), Shilo (of the limerlost), Jason, Natalie, Pebbles, and all yall better get yo selves prepared. I hope to arrive and have many tricks played on me. We shall look at the trip as a contest to see who can play the most tricks on each other. ME verse all yall!!!!!!!!

Also we are looking at playing a house show out there. I can’t wait!

As well I have been praying for you all in Seattle so that has built my expectation to see you guys.


PS oh yeah I will have some videos of our last acoustic show up really soon on here.

4 immediately pressing issues (psyche)

1.)
Just got back from a birthday party for my friends Mike and Mike. I am their guitar teacher. Tripod went with me (a stuffed animal I birthed from sewing together the parts of other stuffed animals).

In the kitchen I was enjoying a conversation with Mike’s older sisters, when I heard people playing music in the next room. They were singing to God. Mike and Mike were leading the singing with guitars. It is very good to see people helping other people with what you taught them to do.

2.)
And…I finished the recording of my bands EP today. The last guitar track for “Would that You Were” (one of my favorite songs and Grace and Jesse and Tom like it as well) was done about 5 this afternoon. Here are the lyrics

And you find yourself
There on a couch again

Actions never expressed
You only thought about them

A second of misdirection
Multiplies
You get paralyzed

I have done the same
Don’t repeat, it’s no good!

Second born we can still change.
Would that you were,
More than just kind of warm.

All of us the same predicament
Dealing with affluence

A second of misdirection
Multiplies
You get paralyzed

I have done the same
Don’t repeat, it’s no good!



3.)
Also…DDR does not stand for dance dance revolution! It has, does and always will stand for Dungeons and Dragons (which I have never played) If you think it’s dance dance revolution, then dial this number immediately

1-800-iamtremendouslydeceivedanddeservetobeflatdropkicked


4.)
Eddie Murphy is Richard Pryor on meth.

It lodges in your brains

Band Practice went well last night with the band. It was difficult to sing again. I always have trouble singing when I come back from Mexico.

We practiced a new song we wrote to focus our overall message during our live shows. Here are the lyrics.

I saw
I saw him dying in his love (repeat 8x)

I will do my best
Not to forget
To remind you
That he died
So we don’t have to.


That’s the whole song. It comes across as a fist to the jaw in the rain so a bunch of rain slings off your hair when your head swings. At only 3 min. long the intro stanza which is repeated 8 times is done in a way that is almost like a mantra. It stampedes and builds and jumps and lodges in your brains.

I hope some of you all will be there on the 13th to hear it.

Say hi if you come to the show,
Ryan
www.stonesoverturned.com (another band we are friends with, Brothers in Rock)

A reason to write

I have insomnia again. Sitting in the one heated room of my trailer, my little space heaters are humming. I'll stop being an arrogant sissy and get out a pad and pen.

I struggled with the idea of blogging, with thinking I am above it, and with being afraid of posting anything honest.

However something that happend on my recent trip to Mexico convinced me blogging could be good. I was sitting on the floor of a church bathroom at 2am, telling my friend Ryan (another Ryan, not me) about my confusion, my fumbling of life, my stupidity, my trusting God, and all kinds of not-so-impressive stuff. Still somehow, he seemed to be helped by knowing how I am stumbling through stuff and what God has been up to with me. Well, if that can help other people then OK.

I used to keep a diary, thinking "Someday people will read this and my life will inspire them to live better." well...that illusion got gunned down in the street a while ago. I don't keep a diary anymore.

I don't want this to be the same thing. I would rather write as a fellow clutz of life (cuz I know that none of us really has our stuff together).

Besides this is a blog not a diary and I am a boy not a girl who reads Jane Austin. So This blog will be about things I have recently screwed up, about my bands mission (to tell people why Jesus died), about things that make me puke from laughter, and about other stuffings that i pulled out of the butt of a Turkey.

Also, if you are one of my out-of-town friends I hope this will help you know wsup. Luv you guys. To the death!

till soon,
Ryan
www.desiringgod.org
www.purevolume.com/anapra just two websites to gawk at.