Inspired by, Part I: Neil Peart

I heard the song a few times, and it struck a chord. I was always a Rush fan, but this song grabbed me and it wouldn't let go. It was "Subdivisions", a song about peer pressure and life in the burbs. I was blown away and moved, moved so much that I picked up a pen and started to express myself in song lyrics. Over the years I thought of publishing those lyrics, but I know they really aren't that good (hey, I was 17, a walking hormone and in love for the first time. What did you write about at that age?) Maybe I'll publish them on the blog under the title "Songs Unsung" because they never actually blossomed into a real tune. Either way, those first few lines sent me down a path that I am grateful to have walked.

Like I said, the song inspired me and I started reading all of the lyrics written by Rush's drummer, Neil Peart. The man is truly gifted with drumsticks and with words. I had never heard a drummer of his caliber when I started listening to Rush, and there are very few I have heard since (the legendary Buddy Rich and Mike Portnoy of Dream Theater are exceptions.) But it's his perspective, rhyme and structure that rival the greatest of poets. He's clever, sharp and concise; he pulls you in and you relate. He paints such a vivid picture that one cannot help to see. Here's a few lines from Subdivisions:

"Subdivisions
In the highschool halls
In the shopping malls
Conform or be cast out
Subdivisions
In the basement bars
In the backs of cars
Be cool or be cast out"

When I heard those words, I had chills. He was writing about my life! And about life in general, of course. I figured I could do the same, and I do. Not half as well as him, if I must say so myself. But that's okay. His words gave me the courage to pen my thoughts, spill the emotions out in ink and own up to what I felt and feel. I grew significantly from that, at least internally. I was still shy and somewhat awkward (hell, I still am sort of awkward) but I have more confidence in my abilities. I felt like I got to know him through his words, and it's a friendship I value today (even though he has never heard of me.)
I recently purchased two books that Peart wrote. He has had a lion's share of tragedy in his life and he coped by writing and traveling. I'm looking forward to his story.

Here are a few more of my favorite lyrics from Neil Peart and Rush.

From The Pass :

"...it's not as if this baricade
blocks the only road
it's not as if your all alone
in wanting to explode

someone set a bad example
made surrender seem alright
the act of a noble warrior
who lost the will to fight..."

From Resist:

You can surrender
surrender without a prayer
buy never really pray
pray without surrender

you can fight
fight without ever winning
but never ever win
win without a fight"

From Freewill:

"If you choose not to decide
you still have made a choice"

Anyway, I could go on all night.

To Neil Peart I say thank you, thank you so much.

From the ashes of my life....

the self effacing humor
the digs toward oneself
get old and tired
much like life itself

the underlying problem
never breaking the facade
boils and builds below
it's just a huge charade

wearing masks a plenty
comedy, tragedy, pain
wearing out your welcome
like a dog stuck in the rain

Open hearts and open minds
never seem to dwell
around this very humble place
my personal private hell

don't you judge and don't you point
at me or at my ways
the end is coming soon enough
I need none of your delays

just remember this one thing
when you turn and walk away
tomorrow will begin anew
a chance with each new day

weep no more, shed no tears
and wash way the pain
move along, there's nothing left
the memories are insane

build upon the lessons here
never looking back
keep on moving right along
you know the right track

I will leave you with this wish
a promise in the stars
carry love with you everywhere
and you will surely go far

guilt devours and hate distorts
and jealousy is a flame
to burn within your very core
and leave you just the same

love endures, all of these things
love can last forever
nothing else even comes close
nothing else can deliver

Roulette

the finality, the promise of nothing more
the hopelessness, the want of relief

the bottle, half empty
the gun, half full

spinning round and round
round and round

heavy and cold, pressure on my temple
sweating but unafraid, finger resting firmly

on my fate

it's too late now
it's too late

Behind the curtain

I can hear you every now and then
when you are cleaning the house
or hanging the laundry
you sing beautifully

If the breeze is just right
I catch the heavenly aroma from your kitchen
savory scents from heaven
my mouth waters

You work in the garden on the other side of the fence
(It may as well be the Great Wall)
You sound happy tending to your flowers
fragrant when they blossom

I can feel the heat on my face
and I wonder what you like to wear
One glimpe
it would all be perfect

If I could only move this curtain

of blindness

bastard, now

this blanket of discontent that warms me
will someday suffocate me,
the unwanted embrace of death follows me

i search for the truth elswhere
beyond the invisible, undeniable and plausable
i seek answers to idiotic questions,

they're my queries and they concern me
don't tell me what you think, i don't care
about your self delusional opinion

if i cared, i'd take my own interests into consideration
just let me continue my quest
stop wasting my time with your nonsense

i stopped asking you a long time ago
i was tired of non-answers, lies and fabrications
the multitude of which broke my heart

and tore me from this place
of contentment and warmth
and belief

into the storm of denial, rage and insecurity
my only treasure, my last possesion
this blanket of discontent that warms me

One child's perspective

Mom, can you please stop yelling?
Dad why are you so mad?
The door slammed again, and broke the frame.
Again.
Curses fly, why?
Don’t you love each other?
Don’t tell me I wouldn’t understand; show me so I do.
I know it’s not easy, but try.
Is that what’s in store for me?
Please, don’t yell at me! I want to know…

Does love always have to be so loud,
and hurt this much?

Men

a broken man
tried to piece together his shattered dreams
and all of his hope
unraveled at the seams

a lonely man
tried to tape together a broken home
it fell apart
he’s now all alone

a hurting man
tried to question the pain
he heard no answers
he loves in vain

one single man
tried to make a difference
he was denied
with plain indifference

a desperate man
tried to take it all
it wasn’t long
before his fall

a righteous man
once believed in love
but he learned the truth
with no help from above

a broken man
with a tear in his eye
and broken heart
gave up an died

Epitaph

Epitaph

“Move on. Be brave ,
don’t weep at my grave
because I am no longer here.
But please never let
your memory of me disappear.”

From The Spirit Carries On,
on the album Metropolis PT 2: Scenes from a Memory By Dream Theater

Have you ever seen the deaf sing?

I'm not trying to be funny, or malicious or amusing
I'm asking truthfully: did you ever see the deaf sing?

I went to a concert, but I didn't want to go
Turns out I'm a moron, I really enjoyed the show
I was impressed; beyond measurable doubt
The deaf , they can sing, without a single shout
They sway with the rythum, they move with the beat
Hands moving everywhere, the show was a treat
Maybe you're thinking, that I'm kind of dumb
They couldn't be singing, It just can't be done

I'm here to tell you this one and only thing
Without speaking a word the deaf could sing.

Okay, the poem was kind of lame. But I did attend a choir concert and the deaf did perform. They were excellent. So was a group of six teenage boys that sang a capella - they were incredible. Moral of the story: a handicap doesn't prevent the impossible, and punk ass teenage boys might be okay after all. Well, some of them, anyway.

About

About

It’s not about what we said
Or the places that we’ve been
It’s not about the hopes and dreams
Or the “what happens when…?”

It’s about this moment, now
And the others that will follow
Living our lives happily
And forgetting all the sorrow

The promise of the days to come
Can be brutally taken away
That’s why is so very important
To love each other today

I want to love you like each day will be my last
Just in case it is

And if I’m taken away
You will never have any doubts, or regrets

And I'd like you to do the same
So I will always be sure

About us, & about love

Happy Valentines Day, babe! I love you!

In the Meantime...

I've been rather busy lately, and haven't had time to sit and work on anything new. If you have read only some of my recent work, I'd like to ask that you go back and read some of my earlier work. I find it interesting that some of the pieces I've written that really move me never get commented on, while other pieces that I feel are good (but not my best work) really struck a chord with the readers. I'm thrilled that my words can evoke any kind of emotion, and I'm always happy to hear comments, positive or negative, about my work or how to make this site more interesting to you, the reader.

Again, thanks for visiting and please feel free to browse some of the work listed under the History Bites archive. I hope you enjoy the time you spend here and that you visit often.

daydreamer

Muse

I stare into the abyss, the limitless depth of the blank page
I close my eyes, dream of nothing…open them again in the murky fog of frustration
I pick up the pen; a magician’s wand, a talisman against unseen evils, a mighty sword
But the magic has failed me, the demons lurk elsewhere, the metal rusty and useless

I replace the cork in the bottle, extinguish the flame, and leave the table
The solitary piece of paper remains, centered, ready, mocking me, taunting me
I stare at the starless midnight sky, marred by sullen clouds of no shape or form
Formless, like my paper; naked, vulnerable, hateful and severe

Lying on the lumpy cot, I pull the patchwork blanket over my threadbare nightshirt
Sleep teases me when I hear a rustle on the table, the unmistakable sound of a muse
Quietly and eagerly I rise, invigorated for the chase, anxious to catch a glimpse,
A momentary peek at the process of the assembly of life on the page


And all I see is a frail old man, replacing the cork, extinguishing the flame…

Yulunga (spirit dance)

Surrounded by the rhythm
pouring out of their souls
the spirits moved with a grace
that we will never know

until our bodies fade...

A shadow of a whisper

The glow of sunset on a summer day,
Fading into the limitless darkness

The warmth of a lover’s pillow,
After they get out of bed

The texture of our favorite wine,
Shared at dinner and candlelight

The scent of a jasmine candle,
Seconds before blowing it out

The notes of a favorite song,
Fading as sleep prevails

A shadow of a whisper
Of the words “I love you”

33

Intense preparation and concentration
You never left anything to chance
Unrivaled perfection and superstition
In terms of hockey excellence

Steady, agile, mobile and quick
Graceful movements performed with ease
Utilizing blocker, pads and of course, the stick
And the famous “statue of liberty”

Shutting down the opponents
And shutting out their dreams
You’re a living legend
Borne from two different teams

Raising the bar with stellar play
Crushing the records of past heroes
You definitely played your own way
As anyone who watched you knows

Now the spotlight has inevitably shifted
And your skates are high on the shelf
The game plays on until the grail is lifted
The one you hoisted four times yourself

Ceremonial Mask

Ceremonial Mask
Circa 2800
“What’s that?” The boy pointed toward a dimly lit display case. The father took the boy’s hand and led him to the case.
“Let’s find out,” he smiled weakly, “then we have to go, okay?”
He hated these museums. He tried to hide his disdain. Who cared about these relics? Well, his son did, for one. The kid couldn’t get enough of them. And the endless questions he would ask. There would be no peace tonight.
“Wow, look at this mask. It looks really fancy and scary at the same time.” The father stared at it. It looked pitiful with it’s rough feathers and shoddy painting. His robots could do a better job.
“Ceremonial mask, circa 2800. Dad, what does circa mean?”
“Uh, what? Oh. That means that it uh, circled the planet on display at least 2800 times.”
The boy wrinkled his nose. “Are you sure?”
“Of course, why would I make that up?’
“Because you make things up when you don’t know what it means. You do that a lot.”
“No I don’t!”
“Yes, you do.” He turned back to the display. “I think this mask is beautiful. I’ll bet it’s really old. What’s it made out of?”
Hi father shrugged.
“I’ll bet ‘circa’ has to do with the time frame that the mask was used.”The father grunted, “Maybe” Angry at his son’s remarks, he stood powerless. The boy was right. The boy was always right. He’s smarter than I am. And I’m smart!
“You’re right, I don’t know what that means I don’t know what it’s made out of either. Maybe it’s a plastic biopolymer resin or a mass produced lightweight metal or something.”
"It’s very rough and ….dad, what does wood look like?”
“Wood?”
“You’ve never actually seen wood, have you?” The boy looked shocked.
“Sure, of course I….no, no I haven’t. I don’t think I’ve ever seen it before. Wait a minute…Trees, that’s where wood came from, trees. I have seen images of trees.” He beamed at his son, proud of himself.
“I know it came from trees, dad. What kind of tree did that wood come from?”
“What kind? Well, ah…You ask too many questions,” his father said irritated. “Always asking about this and about that? Why do you care so much about this stuff? "
The boy looked up and asked “Why don’t you care?”
“Because it’s old, it’s dead and it doesn’t matter anymore. I worry about today and tomorrow, not yesterday.” The man’s head started to ache.
“If you don’t learn from yesterday, you’ll make the same mistakes tomorrow…and the next day…and so forth.”
“What is this, philosophy??? Soon you’ll want to learn about religion! All these ancient ways don’t amount to anything now. I don’t have to remember yesterday because I don’t make mistakes!” What an incredulous child!
“That’s right, the robots and cyborgs do all the work.”
“Look, I make sure they’re working and they do their jobs young man. Those robots do what I say. They are real and important, not this...junk.”
“What happens when they are able to take care of themselves? What will you do then?”
The question nearly floored the man. “That’s unheard of!!! Robots taking care of themselves! It’s not like they’re …”
He stopped. He was going to say “smart”, but couldn’t. They were smart, smarter than him, and maybe smarter than his boy. Artificial intelligence exceeded natural intelligence. He never thought about it before. He always assumed he was in control because they never stopped or took a break, and he stood at the helm, watching. He monitored their levels and voltage, recharging and adjusting as necessary. What if they learned to do that? What if they already did do that, but still needed people just in case?
“Dad, Are you okay?”
“Yeah, fine. You ready to go?”
“Not yet. I want to look at this mask some more.”
His father nodded, blinded by the realization that he didn’t have the control he thought he had. I’m in charge of them, I can shut down the plant anytime I want! Can’t I? He wasn’t so sure, though. Would they try to stop him? Could they? Would they know what was going on? Several of the robots were wired into the main operating system. They programmed updates into the operating system. Of course they would know what was going on!
“Dad, what was earth like before all the robots and cyborgs?”
“I don’t know. I guess it was uncivilized, people living in the dirt, killing each other for food, wearing masks like this one. Religions killed one another in the name of their god’s. Eventually, the governments faded, religions died, and technology ruled. Just like today. That’s what I’ve heard anyway.”
“You don’t really know for sure, do you?
“No, I don’t really know. Who really knows for sure? Maybe the person that made this mask knows, but where is he now? You make it sound like I don’t know anything. Well, since you’re smarter then I am will you stop asking all these questions? Let’s get out of here!”
As they walked out, the boy asked “Dad, if I stop asking questions, how will you ever learn?”

Enveloped

The future

When I’m little…give me love
When I’m learning…give me answers
When I’m weak…give me strength
When I’m sick…give me care
When I’m lonely…give me company
When I’m thirsty…give me liquid
When I’m tired…give me rest
When I’m sad…give me happiness
When I’m hungry…give me food
When I’m broke…give me cash
When I’m stuck…give me a hand
When I’m busy…give me space
When I lie…give me an alibi

When I want…give

Because I’m entitled

No, I haven’t earned anything yet,
but you owe me, the world owes me, for debts unpaid
Give me the respect I deserve, even though I’m just a punk
I don’t got to earn nothing, stupid, this gun is all I need
So gimme, what’s mine is mine and what’s yours is mine
and whatever I want is mine, even if you worked hard
I’ll take the easy way, I ain’t no fool
I’m a powerful mofo, me and my piece, no, not peace
I didn’t ask to be born, so I ain’t gotta earn nothing
Just gimme

Internal revolution

The revolution is calling, hear the leaders scream
Counter-revolution beckons, on the fashion scene

Politicians on the runway
Models in the White House
The world is upside down
Life is inside out

The revolution is stewing, like a really bad dream
Counter-working geriatrics, dying to make a little green

Politicians on the take man
Models snorting up their 15
The world is all askew
Life dying out

The revolution is building, packing heat in school
Pint sized murderers, mug shot cool

Politicians turn a blind eye
Models fade away and die
The world is too rude
$60 for crude

The revolution is here, pouring out of my head
culture clashing off centered wisdom, then I'm dead

Politicians don't know me
models could care less
I'll just turn to rust
die with my lust

the revolution is over, the insurgency gone
Counter clockwise movement, broken heart song

Unknown Friends (Bloggers world)

They were there, peeking in
sometimes saying something
mostly quiet
I know, I'm like them
Stopping by to see what's new
What you have to say,
or what you've created
Unfortunately,
The visits fade
like the days that pass
Abandoned pages fill the screen
no updates, no goodbye's
You vanish
till there is no one left to read
the words that I share
no one left that cares to see
what I'm pouring onto the digital page
(Real life gets in the way, they say, which may be true. I can't blame them.)
But this is my life, in simple stanza's
These are my dreams, in prose
This is my vision, through my mind's eye
This is my home