Transcontinental Concern

The distance is continental
Our arms just three feet long

In decent times
I would let you know

But the fear is on
The fear is on your voice
and on the telephone lines.

FIN

Note: I am not sure this one really works as a poem.  It's a song I wrote, but now that I read it without the music I think it's more a song than a poem.

Promptus

Doesn't my heart strain for my friends
as we pull on our clothes each morning?

Don't I love them,
want to see them?

Is it sole love that pushes us,
out the door, with the speed we tread.

Are we blind then,
do we see then?

Could my bones be steel and my face of diamond,
I would cut a path for you.
Clear the sound for you, smash the screens for you,
break the engines for you, until all is quiet and you can hear.

One clear voice filled with blood and compassion.

World Champion

You are on the train that says
"I am not running out of rope."

Because of these things they're yours
no eye lines, no cell seen dying.

You soak them in yourself
of a false permanence.

Still, you, them, and me are always dying
With dust falling from us each step.
An inch from Where the Earth crests and ends
Where we all go and divert
Where the shadow consumes some
and for others merely passes.

You shine for a mere convincing second before you die.
There is no quaint Jesus here, only a real live God.

insomnia again

I have insomnia again tonight. Over the years I have learned to be at peace while having trouble sleeping. It makes it much better. I have a lot of great times with God while I am up late by myself.

Tonight I watched this



and this



and this



and this

stones who were people

They are cold and their arms are down
We can stand but a foot apart
and no grins exchange
no excitement

They are grey where they were rouge
their hands hold things that are dead
they groan when their
grips slip

They used to be children
and my friends
now they are dead
Their gods in their hands.

A second office made beautiful

To my wife on her first mothers day with a son (outside the womb). The first poem I have ever published for an occasion.

It is a thing I would not set aside
to search what's dry
and then find you
my precious wife

It might seem what's wet
is not so deep
next to your eyes
the strengths and fears
you keep
my heart

and should this world be one
of many homes
still glad to have
you
in this one

It is true love
the truth that guides your love
for me
and our son

another bloom has come
petals bloomed for our eyes
and we
filled with love.


I love you Erin, you are a beautiful wife and now a beautiful mother.
Ryan

removed and running

when the turn came you turned wrong
a right for a left
shaking your head for nervousness

if the breaks had worked you stop
but you have no breaks
your core like a city with no walls

you never pin your thoughts
to one hard truth outside you
and so the bandits come in
and the bandits go out

Is

the crackling oxidation is
the ants make homes inside
it is a dead tree
and it is a rancid thought

it is what is

it is a community looking at their chests
it is my fault
the time is still running on it
and it is my constant consciousness

it is what is

The truth bathes us
but we are not solved with water.

the symphony is never tuned
The visible conductor dies,
he is you and me.
and we are in its knot

it is a thing where we sat ourselves as judges
it is our fault
someone will be bleeding on it
to unwind the thing and peel it back

My feet need bathing
and my blood is only water.

image to me

I need to be seen
not just you and me talking.

not just you and me...

"quiet seems lost, yeah?"
the words in your mind.

"We are talking
me to me
we to me
me to we"

you think I'm you
just another phrase of you

a touch, irate whisper
that you won't let scream

you explain to me...

"We are talking
me to me
we to me
me to we"

I know you don't think
I'm another entity

But I'm part of him,
outside you and real

He'll touch you, you liar

and cut you open
and pull out your heart

ok to ok

I miss my band Anapra. I want to play in a metal band and call it Baza-ra. Until then I will watch this video sometimes.




Robert, Neal, Jeff....we should rock again someday.
Ryan

with no option to forget

It is this dark here.
It's hard to breath here,
I remember the places I froze while trying to walk.

reciting to myself, your words,
Thus I've worked these roads for you.

Plastered and battered and cut
some light barely gets to us.

reciting to myself, your words
Thus I've worked these roads with you.

I can't forget you.
pour through my lungs,
seep in my thoughts,
and walk through my spirit.

all kinds

Living is Seattle has been a real transition. I have enjoyed it so far even though it has been dificult.
The hardest part has been that I had a one month sinus infection that really kept me in bed and delayed a lot of stuff with the album and poetry.

I am back to writing and planning for the release of the album. So that's good news. Also I will be back in Maryland from Dec. 15 till after Christmas.

poetry and album coming soon,
Ryan

New Album

So, the new album has been recorded. I am very excited about it. Jeremy White and I got it done fast. One week and we are out. Now we need to mix it, so I am driving to SanDiego to mix with him. Meanwhile he is working on the ruff mixes.

There are a lot more vocals on this album than any of the other. I finally have learned to sing harmony and second melody.

can't wait,
Ryan

PS more of a pain-hope career soon.

I couldn't do it

Two days from one week in the studio to finish a whole progressive, polyrhythmic, acoustic/vocal based album. That means I have to have a lot of good ideas and be able to record them all quickly.

Afraid of being a con by listening to too much music too close to the recording sessions and not being able to seperate my ideas from what I just listened to, I told myself I wasn't going to listen to music until the record was recorded. However, tonight I got my laptop in working order again and the itunes store blitzkrieged me. I bought songs off Diary (by sunny day real estate), off the always open mouth (by fear before the march of flames), and a few at the drive-in songs. I failed-----now it's 2:33 am and I am listening----to music.

I don't feel too bad since it's not acoustic, or polyrhythmic music. Still, if you hear my next album, when it comes out and it sounds like any of the above bands, you have my permission to eliminate all my beloved house-pets.

out,
Ryan

PS I don't have house pets, and I am holding stock in SHLD

a pain-hope career (part 8)

He was splashed with fright;
very sudden,
after leaving,
to resume search for the wraith.


The grey blood scattered
in the water.
kumiko sat,
soaking up to his waist.


His task was fumbled
in distraction he faltered
the blood trail...difused.. .lost
He glared. The circling water shook.


Shadows of him
lay in strange reflections
but not the shadow he needed.


Now he feared smith
who's orders he had failed
kumiko the theif,
stolen book, and lost.


His eyes full glazed
his ears ignoring hiss
of his shadows
rising in the dome.


The space becoming full
grey hands in a rage
Kumiko's look
remained the same.


the book, he left closed.
Shadows forced him down.
and in dream like slowness
he saw his breath bubble.


"Smith won't miss you!"
the hiss seaped.

FIN

Hold on I’ll grab
The arm of your

Jacket
Iris
Eyes are this
Drained of color

I’ve been dreaming of the day
When we see him face to face
And I know it’s what we think about the most.

We haven’t reached
Our home of yet

Push through this
Scratch and dust
Temporal earth
For our home

I’ve been dreaming of the day
When we see him face to face
And I know it’s what we think about the most.

FIN

this is a new song. We play it heavy with anapra and I play it soft with an acoustic guitar by myself sometimes.

a pain-hope career (part 7)

Kumiko was lead
to rows end
of men sleeping
Death in the eyes on their face

The glow now a dim light
in them and their room.
Kumiko sat,
as one man took the stage.

The preacher then tumbled
One large word after another
But kumiko's ears were stopped
His eyes target was the book

ignored among them
it lay in the front, alone
bold, unknown, abandoned

words and wasting breath
droned over it's cover
the book was left neatly
closed and so lost.

Like waves, men poured
down rows resistanceless
past kumiko
till he was left alone

The room no longer full,
Weathered another change
the sealed book
remained, steady, the same.

Kumiko moved to know.
his fingers on pages bound.
moved it from where it stood
to the door he shuffled.

"they won't miss it."

FIN
gettting ready for this move to seattle has really slowed down my writing, but don't worry the story will be completed.

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"