Lord, In Your Mercy

 This is a song I wrote to share with my church this morning. I started it in my pew last Sunday even as our pastor was giving his sermon. The rest of the words came as I was out delivering mail during the week. 

Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayer. 
We invite you to enter.
Quiet the noise at the crowded center; 
slow the pain, let our fear disappear. 

Switchblade dreams and waking nightmares, 
panic attack on the stairs.
The weight of everything we carry 
is more than we can bear.

Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayer. 
We invite you to enter.
Quiet the noise at the crowded center; 
slow the pain, let our fear disappear. 

Riots in the streets, the world's aflame, 
everyone's looking for someone to blame.
We are weak and we are helpless
against the violence done in your good name. 

Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayer. 
We invite you to enter.
Quiet the noise at the crowded center; 
slow the pain, let our fear disappear. 

Hard pressed on every side;
we feel as if we'd died. 
Persecuted, not abandoned; 
you've heard us when we've cried. 

Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayer. 
We invite you to enter.
Quiet the noise at the crowded center; 
slow the pain, let our fear disappear. 

I Don’t Believe America Was Ever Good

 

There’s fog in the morning and I can’t find my way
I hear obscured voices leading me astray
I know there’s danger, I can feel it
I hope there’s beauty but I can’t see it
There’s a mournful church bell toll
as our leaders pledge to troll
                the opposition
I don’t believe America was ever good.

Line her up with all the slaughtering empires of the past
She stand as tall as any
whether governed by an evil one
or voted by a calloused many
                it is the same
And I don’t believe America was ever good.

Walking circles back where we began
There to start the damnable trek again
As day gives way to early night
Our mayhem knives and chaos guns
Can never make us right
Like Babylon, like Herod
We’ll make America great again
                but greatness is not good
I don’t believe America was ever good.

 

Mark 10:18

The Old Hotel with Dead Things Beneath the Floor

A severe malfunction here. Check the video.

      Ineffective. 

There is no way I could stay here tonight. With the wind and the noise and the darkness coming through the cracks in the walls. Walking around the old hotel with dead things beneath the floor. 

What was it? Some concealed hell inside that house. Running back to bondage, anxious for chains and for restraints, anxious for diabolic manifestations. 

When did things begin to change? What was happening? How did it begin? These are troubled, unsettling questions with no answer except silence in the dark. No one will speak. People disappeared. We still don’t know. 

I went downstairs and saw the blood on the floor. I saw the basement door blown open. Hell, I don’t know what I saw. I don’t know why these things must be done, why these rules must be observed. We have rules don’t we?

     Don’t be absurd. 

A severe malfunction here. Someone, something stirring up trouble in the safest of places. 

People shouting. People screaming.

New Funeral Hymns

 As I've mentioned in recent posts, I play D&D with a group of friends. I have a bard character that have created - he's an adventurer in the vein of Phil Ochs or Woody Guthrie, rather than the stereotypical 'horny bard.'  Rather than trying to seduce anything that moves, he sings about the strength of worker guilds and protests songs. 

I've been writing short little songs for him to sing in game. 

Think of this one as a revolutionary song that is only just barely disguised by a sort of apocalyptic veneer. No one is exactly sure what he's singing about, but it's not quite enough to keep him from being charged with treason against the king. 

Before the blue variations, a curse over five, over three
and when the king is overthrown, sing for the rising of the sea.
Sing new funeral hymns, sing poisoned songs,
for all the agents of his throne.
The scenery of earth is lifted up
before the glory and the beauty come down.
We'll storm this awkward castle, climb the walls and raise a battle call.
When strong hands are lifted up, we'll see that old tyrant fall. 

The Riddle

 I have a few little songs that I've been writing for my D&D bard character to sing. This is another silly one. My bard will have a full songbook soon. 

Hey nonny nonny
Oh nonny oh
Hey nonny nonny oh

Hey diddle diddle 
This is the riddle 
Of the boy who flew to the moon
The rockets were scrapped 
And the beer kegs were tapped
to provide enough lift for the balloon. 

Other songs in my bard's songbook include: 
The Irony of Kings
Say Good Morning While It Is Still Morning 
The Dragon Roland Reagan and Other Monsters