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.