I'll do this in person I will.
But somehow I doubt I'll be able to voice it better than I write.
So here we go.
I apologize for being an insensitive twit.
I'm sorry that in jest I have offended and hurt in what is a trying time.
I make no excuses for my behavior and hope that I can make up for it somehow.
I ask for your forgiveness and hope that you can tolerate having a friend that is extra thick.
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Friday, May 30, 2008
A song sung, a story told and finally completed
After years of biding my time,
Opportunity, circumstances and inclination has finally let me complete the story of Jean Valjean.
And wow, it was just... wow.
The version I watched was produced by a local theater group. Simple set, simple costumes, a mish mash of tonal qualities in the cast.
But it all just added to the charm.
Edge of my seat, mind filling in the background scenery, memories tracking back and forth.
All I can say is... oh wow.
Opportunity, circumstances and inclination has finally let me complete the story of Jean Valjean.
And wow, it was just... wow.
The version I watched was produced by a local theater group. Simple set, simple costumes, a mish mash of tonal qualities in the cast.
But it all just added to the charm.
Edge of my seat, mind filling in the background scenery, memories tracking back and forth.
All I can say is... oh wow.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Taken from a note pad
I had some long meetings today.
Some of the presentatiosn I've heard for the 3rd time in the last 2 days.
So here's some stuff from my note pad.
The Written word aka keeping awake
Did Hemmingway do it like this?
Did his gifts flicker like a buzzing light bulb as the wove those beautiful pieces?
JOAT...JOAT...JOAT... echoes in the chamber of the mind.
If you had to ask, you would.
~~~
Poetry
What a word,
it conjures up images
of skinny baret wearing folk of bohemian beauty.
Of men on bended knee under starry skies.
Of romance, freedom and inner heights.
Its never been my favourite prose.
lets try it anyhow.
~~~
Turbo
---
Gleaming moon dawns on the liquid skin.
Steel meets leather in resolute lines.
Silence is shattered as white, blue and red pierce the darkness.
We move.
opposing forces clash with might roars
Daft movements balance on the knife's edge
as eyes, hands, feet and mind
flick, pulse ,fly between throbbing heart beats.
the needles climb,
the whistle builds, shouts, screams into the night air.
motion blurs and the very hand of God pushes then slams on your chest.
We fly on, arrow and archer, as one into the night.
Some of the presentatiosn I've heard for the 3rd time in the last 2 days.
So here's some stuff from my note pad.
The Written word aka keeping awake
Did Hemmingway do it like this?
Did his gifts flicker like a buzzing light bulb as the wove those beautiful pieces?
JOAT...JOAT...JOAT... echoes in the chamber of the mind.
If you had to ask, you would.
~~~
Poetry
What a word,
it conjures up images
of skinny baret wearing folk of bohemian beauty.
Of men on bended knee under starry skies.
Of romance, freedom and inner heights.
Its never been my favourite prose.
lets try it anyhow.
~~~
Turbo
---
Gleaming moon dawns on the liquid skin.
Steel meets leather in resolute lines.
Silence is shattered as white, blue and red pierce the darkness.
We move.
opposing forces clash with might roars
Daft movements balance on the knife's edge
as eyes, hands, feet and mind
flick, pulse ,fly between throbbing heart beats.
the needles climb,
the whistle builds, shouts, screams into the night air.
motion blurs and the very hand of God pushes then slams on your chest.
We fly on, arrow and archer, as one into the night.
The distant drums
A favorite uncle shows a young boy a black covered cd with a sad girl on the cover.
Is the story sad?
Yes and no says the uncle patting the boy on his head.
~~~
A high school student finds his voice, powerful but lacking range and subtleness mutters the shaking head of the teacher as he is handed a stack of music.
Try this one, it is completed unsuited for your voice, but keep practising and one day it will be.
~~~
Freshman in university finds himself in a crowded cinema, entranced by Liam Neeson and Geoffry Rush as they ply their art on the big screen.
No music yet.
~~~
Final year university, an awkward boy reaches down and up, hitting the final notes that echo in the car park. The audience of one applauds and they leave hand in hand.
~~~
A tired soldier runs out of songs to lead, and tries the first stanza of the people's song.
The crowd mutters in confusion... the Sergeant looks at him and says, "It won't work, I've tried it before."
~~~
Amongst new friends a man spies a familiar sight, "now?" he wonders?
No takers? No matter, perhaps its time.
Fumbling at the keyboard... loading...
words flash... SOLD OUT.
Maybe another time then.
Perhaps another time.
Is the story sad?
Yes and no says the uncle patting the boy on his head.
~~~
A high school student finds his voice, powerful but lacking range and subtleness mutters the shaking head of the teacher as he is handed a stack of music.
Try this one, it is completed unsuited for your voice, but keep practising and one day it will be.
~~~
Freshman in university finds himself in a crowded cinema, entranced by Liam Neeson and Geoffry Rush as they ply their art on the big screen.
No music yet.
~~~
Final year university, an awkward boy reaches down and up, hitting the final notes that echo in the car park. The audience of one applauds and they leave hand in hand.
~~~
A tired soldier runs out of songs to lead, and tries the first stanza of the people's song.
The crowd mutters in confusion... the Sergeant looks at him and says, "It won't work, I've tried it before."
~~~
Amongst new friends a man spies a familiar sight, "now?" he wonders?
No takers? No matter, perhaps its time.
Fumbling at the keyboard... loading...
words flash... SOLD OUT.
Maybe another time then.
Perhaps another time.
Monday, May 26, 2008
a life adundant and flowing
Dear Lord,
Thank you for all you've done.
For coming down from infinity to mere humanity.
For having Grace so free that washes away my sins.
Thank you Lord for providing me even in this wilderness,
friends to appreciate and enjoy my days with.
Thank you for letting me have this awesome life.
Lord, I know you've called me for a specific purpose in your kingdom.
That the theological and doctrinal overviews you've given me in the recent years have not been building up to nothing.
And yet I also know that you still require me to work on loving my neighbors and honoring my parents.
Dear Lord, I want to commit this my path less traveled into your hands again.
Its foggy and I don't see the road ahead, but help me see the path YOU want me to take instead of the one's I seek to forge.
Help me draw close to you and be satisfied with you as my portion.
Teach me to serve, and show me where you want me to be.
Remember that younger man? That stood, in that crowd, on the plain, on the hilltop raising his hand?
I'm still that man lord and I love you dearly.
And I'm raising that hand again.
Protect me from wounds both old and new, shield me from temptations.
Walk with me Lord, be my friend once more.
Thank you for all you've done.
For coming down from infinity to mere humanity.
For having Grace so free that washes away my sins.
Thank you Lord for providing me even in this wilderness,
friends to appreciate and enjoy my days with.
Thank you for letting me have this awesome life.
Lord, I know you've called me for a specific purpose in your kingdom.
That the theological and doctrinal overviews you've given me in the recent years have not been building up to nothing.
And yet I also know that you still require me to work on loving my neighbors and honoring my parents.
Dear Lord, I want to commit this my path less traveled into your hands again.
Its foggy and I don't see the road ahead, but help me see the path YOU want me to take instead of the one's I seek to forge.
Help me draw close to you and be satisfied with you as my portion.
Teach me to serve, and show me where you want me to be.
Remember that younger man? That stood, in that crowd, on the plain, on the hilltop raising his hand?
I'm still that man lord and I love you dearly.
And I'm raising that hand again.
Protect me from wounds both old and new, shield me from temptations.
Walk with me Lord, be my friend once more.
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Let it come
A large double oak door stands in the middle of the wall.
A thick beam sits across the heavy iron banded structure, sealing everything in... or out.
A thousand voices from a thousand scenes whisper on the other side... and suddenly that thick bar of fire hardened wood doesn't seem so thick anymore.
3 weary men stand before the door, holding battered weapons they wait.
Another walks in the room and eyes the 3 guards one by one before speaking.
Titus Titanium, you were lost in a storm some months ago. Relinquish this postion, this is no longer your posting.
With that he touches the black and silver pommel of the guard's rapier, and the other disappears into smoke and ether.
Turning to the next man in line.
Imperfectia Silver, you were lost in flames and can on longer hold this postion.
A brief brash across the beaten silver basket of sword, and in a shower of silver grains the guard vanishes.
The last guard shuffles nervously in his place as the man stops in front of him.
Sir, who are you? he asks the inquisitor.
Ignoring the question, the inquisitor draws from the well worn sheath at his side.
Me? I am just another guard posted to hold this gate, and until the next inquisitor comes to take my place. I claim no name.
Yessir
The doors buffet and creak a fraction in their seats as the whispers rise on the other side before subsiding again.
The 2 men stand on the other side of the door, praying that that thick wooden bar is thick enough
A thick beam sits across the heavy iron banded structure, sealing everything in... or out.
A thousand voices from a thousand scenes whisper on the other side... and suddenly that thick bar of fire hardened wood doesn't seem so thick anymore.
3 weary men stand before the door, holding battered weapons they wait.
Another walks in the room and eyes the 3 guards one by one before speaking.
Titus Titanium, you were lost in a storm some months ago. Relinquish this postion, this is no longer your posting.
With that he touches the black and silver pommel of the guard's rapier, and the other disappears into smoke and ether.
Turning to the next man in line.
Imperfectia Silver, you were lost in flames and can on longer hold this postion.
A brief brash across the beaten silver basket of sword, and in a shower of silver grains the guard vanishes.
The last guard shuffles nervously in his place as the man stops in front of him.
Sir, who are you? he asks the inquisitor.
Ignoring the question, the inquisitor draws from the well worn sheath at his side.
Me? I am just another guard posted to hold this gate, and until the next inquisitor comes to take my place. I claim no name.
Yessir
The doors buffet and creak a fraction in their seats as the whispers rise on the other side before subsiding again.
The 2 men stand on the other side of the door, praying that that thick wooden bar is thick enough
I dub thee...
The baby birds had built themselves a solid wall of fecal matter whose structural integrity would have impressed any civil engineer.
They seemed very pleased with themselves but I wasn't going to stand for it.
The cage was disassembled for cleaning and tiny creatures were given clear and concise instructions.
No funny business!
Mid way through the cleaning operation I sensed something amiss.
ONe of the baby birds was looking right at me...
The final piece of the puzzle snapped in my head, alarm bells went off and I started close the cage door... too late.
The sharp eyed critter had seen the small gap between my hand and the door and made a break for it.
Free of its cage, the gray fluffy bolt of lightning bounced around the living room,
ricocheting from wall to wall before angling into the other 2 rooms in the house.
By the time I had secured the cage again (the other inmates were getting rowdy) the blot of gray had disappeared.
A frantic search began for the escapee who had by now began phase 2 of the e&e plan (escape and evade).
Moving every piece of furniture at least twice, shining light into every possible corner, the errant flier was no where to be found.
2 hours later, I had employed the aid of the neighbor and was in the process of doing round 3 of the "moving furniture" game.
This was one clever birdie indeed.
Finally it was time for my final card up my sleeve... the snitch.
Silencing the entire house.
The remaining inmates were placed in the middle of the house, a tasty treat placed on the floor.
Then the waiting began...
5min
10min
the birds in the cage were enjoying their snack very much and making a party of it.
15min
then... from the corner of the store room. *cheep*
ah ha!
the heat swooped on the fugitive like a fat kid on a smartie.
It was over in a flash.
Safely back in its cage, the ball of gray fluff stares at me as if saying, "I had a good run"
And so the first of the chicks earns its name.
I dub thee, tinyhawk
They seemed very pleased with themselves but I wasn't going to stand for it.
The cage was disassembled for cleaning and tiny creatures were given clear and concise instructions.
No funny business!
Mid way through the cleaning operation I sensed something amiss.
ONe of the baby birds was looking right at me...
The final piece of the puzzle snapped in my head, alarm bells went off and I started close the cage door... too late.
The sharp eyed critter had seen the small gap between my hand and the door and made a break for it.
Free of its cage, the gray fluffy bolt of lightning bounced around the living room,
ricocheting from wall to wall before angling into the other 2 rooms in the house.
By the time I had secured the cage again (the other inmates were getting rowdy) the blot of gray had disappeared.
A frantic search began for the escapee who had by now began phase 2 of the e&e plan (escape and evade).
Moving every piece of furniture at least twice, shining light into every possible corner, the errant flier was no where to be found.
2 hours later, I had employed the aid of the neighbor and was in the process of doing round 3 of the "moving furniture" game.
This was one clever birdie indeed.
Finally it was time for my final card up my sleeve... the snitch.
Silencing the entire house.
The remaining inmates were placed in the middle of the house, a tasty treat placed on the floor.
Then the waiting began...
5min
10min
the birds in the cage were enjoying their snack very much and making a party of it.
15min
then... from the corner of the store room. *cheep*
ah ha!
the heat swooped on the fugitive like a fat kid on a smartie.
It was over in a flash.
Safely back in its cage, the ball of gray fluff stares at me as if saying, "I had a good run"
And so the first of the chicks earns its name.
I dub thee, tinyhawk
A women's touch
The bubble of conversation.
Laughter, swoons and embarrassed giggles.
Food passed from one plate to another.
Stories spun and told.
I'm happy and content.
Oh yes I am.
Laughter, swoons and embarrassed giggles.
Food passed from one plate to another.
Stories spun and told.
I'm happy and content.
Oh yes I am.
Friday, May 23, 2008
Fragments
I'm tired,
its been a long day at work, my body is exhuasted.
The toll of insomnia or just the constant lack of sleep is showing.
Yet, I can't sleep.
My mind runs rampant, plucking, weaving, discarding, searching.
It gets like this sometimes (do a search on my post entitled arrgggg!)
I call it arts or imagery overload.
Lets see if I can't get it out of my system.
~~~
Awkward, stumbling, disjointed.
----
Language fails me when I ... at times like this.
I'm more conscious of it now these days but still am unable to stop it.
When the grasp of linguistics turns weak and the words just fail the mind.
Or is it the mind that fails the tongue?
I've noticed the growing inability to control the numerous accents I've picked up over the years. Rolled Rs coil around stiff upper lip which mixes into the lahs.
And its not just English, its happening with all my languages.
I better keep an eye on this.
~~~~
Fumbles McGee
----
So... hey... erm... did you... i mean... what'cha... if...
For all my confidence and bravado, its always comes to this.
The charm of the bumbling idiot.
The talk more when I get nervous thing I've never fully been able to shake.
ummming and ahhing my way through half the day.
All my mind wants to say is "Would you want to get a cup of coffee and chat?"
All my feet want to do is walk on by.
ummm... so...
~~~~
Me and my boys
----
I remember coming back to Melbourne during one of my breaks in my army service.
We were in Dee's house catching up and having a good time about it.
She pulled out her latest adventure from her globe trotting to show us.
What is it? We all asked, turning the photo album over.
I just spent 2 weeks in the korean country side helping them dig that well!
It was so fulfilling! Its called a "feel good" holiday.
You fly over and for 3 thousand bucks each, we get to live in their village and help them out.
I remember looking at pictures of city slickers and yappies like my friend who had forked out big bucks to go to the middle of nowhere to build this well.
I remember looking at what they had created and realizing it wouldn't last mere months.
I remember thinking that me and any given 5 of my men could have built them a permanent well in a week for less than what it cost one of the feelgooders to play Samaritan.
I remember politely smiling and handing the photo album back.
Months later, me and my boys sat in the barracks watching news footage of the tsunami ravaged towns of out neigbours.
A quiet rumour had spread that we might be called to help and one by one all made their way back to camp even on our weekend off.
Do you think we'll be called in Sir? asked one.
I don't know
What do you think that we can do to help? asked another
Just then the footage showed an aerial view of the devastation, the wasteland that was once a town.
Stunned silence in the room as we turned up the volume.
With thousands missing and homeless this city of...
I remember sitting there with dozens of my boys, feeling powerless to help.
I remember feeling disappointed when they sent others to go in our stead.
And now... this.
its been a long day at work, my body is exhuasted.
The toll of insomnia or just the constant lack of sleep is showing.
Yet, I can't sleep.
My mind runs rampant, plucking, weaving, discarding, searching.
It gets like this sometimes (do a search on my post entitled arrgggg!)
I call it arts or imagery overload.
Lets see if I can't get it out of my system.
~~~
Awkward, stumbling, disjointed.
----
Language fails me when I ... at times like this.
I'm more conscious of it now these days but still am unable to stop it.
When the grasp of linguistics turns weak and the words just fail the mind.
Or is it the mind that fails the tongue?
I've noticed the growing inability to control the numerous accents I've picked up over the years. Rolled Rs coil around stiff upper lip which mixes into the lahs.
And its not just English, its happening with all my languages.
I better keep an eye on this.
~~~~
Fumbles McGee
----
So... hey... erm... did you... i mean... what'cha... if...
For all my confidence and bravado, its always comes to this.
The charm of the bumbling idiot.
The talk more when I get nervous thing I've never fully been able to shake.
ummming and ahhing my way through half the day.
All my mind wants to say is "Would you want to get a cup of coffee and chat?"
All my feet want to do is walk on by.
ummm... so...
~~~~
Me and my boys
----
I remember coming back to Melbourne during one of my breaks in my army service.
We were in Dee's house catching up and having a good time about it.
She pulled out her latest adventure from her globe trotting to show us.
What is it? We all asked, turning the photo album over.
I just spent 2 weeks in the korean country side helping them dig that well!
It was so fulfilling! Its called a "feel good" holiday.
You fly over and for 3 thousand bucks each, we get to live in their village and help them out.
I remember looking at pictures of city slickers and yappies like my friend who had forked out big bucks to go to the middle of nowhere to build this well.
I remember looking at what they had created and realizing it wouldn't last mere months.
I remember thinking that me and any given 5 of my men could have built them a permanent well in a week for less than what it cost one of the feelgooders to play Samaritan.
I remember politely smiling and handing the photo album back.
Months later, me and my boys sat in the barracks watching news footage of the tsunami ravaged towns of out neigbours.
A quiet rumour had spread that we might be called to help and one by one all made their way back to camp even on our weekend off.
Do you think we'll be called in Sir? asked one.
I don't know
What do you think that we can do to help? asked another
Just then the footage showed an aerial view of the devastation, the wasteland that was once a town.
Stunned silence in the room as we turned up the volume.
With thousands missing and homeless this city of...
I remember sitting there with dozens of my boys, feeling powerless to help.
I remember feeling disappointed when they sent others to go in our stead.
And now... this.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Word Salad
That boy's mouth is too fast for his brain...
Yep, I did it again.
One moment its normal conversation then suddenly I'm smack bang into a litany of words that have somehow by passed the thinking process and escaped from my mouth.
Of colours, stories and the land of the tomorrow trip I prattle, forgetting the potential of alienation and information overload...
Erg, its been too long since I've woven a tale, thank goodness for the literal captive audience.
Apologies for your bruised ears...
Qualis artifex pereo indeed...
~~~
The land of the tomorrow trip
The image changes from time to time,
Country road, sometimes straight, sometimes winding.
The fields golden and the wind rushing through the crops.
A vespa, a black/chromed cruiser bike, a red convertible, a yellow VW beetle.
The warm/cool/fresh air blasts in my face as I accelerate.
A cottage, fresh ingredients, chattering locals. The contrast of blinding gold, to seas of green.
The smell of fresh basil, roasting coffee.
Its a place of dream that I rarely speak of, a promise of tomorrow.
And now you now its name.
Qua patet orbis? One day perhaps.
Yep, I did it again.
One moment its normal conversation then suddenly I'm smack bang into a litany of words that have somehow by passed the thinking process and escaped from my mouth.
Of colours, stories and the land of the tomorrow trip I prattle, forgetting the potential of alienation and information overload...
Erg, its been too long since I've woven a tale, thank goodness for the literal captive audience.
Apologies for your bruised ears...
Qualis artifex pereo indeed...
~~~
The land of the tomorrow trip
The image changes from time to time,
Country road, sometimes straight, sometimes winding.
The fields golden and the wind rushing through the crops.
A vespa, a black/chromed cruiser bike, a red convertible, a yellow VW beetle.
The warm/cool/fresh air blasts in my face as I accelerate.
A cottage, fresh ingredients, chattering locals. The contrast of blinding gold, to seas of green.
The smell of fresh basil, roasting coffee.
Its a place of dream that I rarely speak of, a promise of tomorrow.
And now you now its name.
Qua patet orbis? One day perhaps.
Monday, May 19, 2008
A Prayer from the Desperate
Dear Lord
thank u that we have ur son forgiving us for sins that we haven't yet committed
ur so full of grace
please help us not to take these things for granted
we do have lots of blessings but please don't allow us to be apathetic, to think that this easy lives of ours will last forever
help us to see the urgency that is in our worlds around us.
to all those who r perishing without the knowledge of u pls help us to see that they need the love and grace and knowledge of u .
and who else will be there to tell of u if there r no worthy followers
please help us to be that worthy servant that we may be able to do just a little bit to spread the gospel . firstly to those in our midst in our neighborhoods in our workplaces.
we can't do this without a transformation and ur holy spirit to guide us to convict us. please dont allow us to continue living in some comfortable safe christian environment that is not challenged. where things come by so easily.
please don't allow the devil to tell us that everything is alright. for we know that there is not much time.
don't let us be deceived.............
i pray that we can obey ur word.
please help us to do this.
for we can't do this by our own efforts.
thank u that u have amazing examples in the world for us to follow. help us be discerning to find the right examples to follow.
in jesus name I pray. amen
thank u that we have ur son forgiving us for sins that we haven't yet committed
ur so full of grace
please help us not to take these things for granted
we do have lots of blessings but please don't allow us to be apathetic, to think that this easy lives of ours will last forever
help us to see the urgency that is in our worlds around us.
to all those who r perishing without the knowledge of u pls help us to see that they need the love and grace and knowledge of u .
and who else will be there to tell of u if there r no worthy followers
please help us to be that worthy servant that we may be able to do just a little bit to spread the gospel . firstly to those in our midst in our neighborhoods in our workplaces.
we can't do this without a transformation and ur holy spirit to guide us to convict us. please dont allow us to continue living in some comfortable safe christian environment that is not challenged. where things come by so easily.
please don't allow the devil to tell us that everything is alright. for we know that there is not much time.
don't let us be deceived.............
i pray that we can obey ur word.
please help us to do this.
for we can't do this by our own efforts.
thank u that u have amazing examples in the world for us to follow. help us be discerning to find the right examples to follow.
in jesus name I pray. amen
Thursday, May 15, 2008
No man is an island
So my trusty pda phone died on me tonight.
And with the convenient corruption of the PC backup of my contacts.
I've not a single number of any of my friends.
Its normally wouldn't be a big deal.
But right now, it feels just a little but too quiet.
Could you all get incontact with me so that I get back in touch?
thanks!
And with the convenient corruption of the PC backup of my contacts.
I've not a single number of any of my friends.
Its normally wouldn't be a big deal.
But right now, it feels just a little but too quiet.
Could you all get incontact with me so that I get back in touch?
thanks!
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
I remember when
Here's a bit of music I stumbled upon.
I like the title, and I like how the sleeping wordsmith stirs just a little as the melodies emerge from the chaos
on to other things.
The recent stories have felt forced.
Like drudging memories out from a cold lake, the words for now weave differently.
Ebbs and flows, like a tide no?
I remember more than one accusatory statement.
you don't write anymore...you don't sing anymore...
it takes deep to call upon deep, and inner light to cast shadows and colours.
And for one like me, I'm too used to the sound of the echo to perform to the empty room.
Interestingly, it seems a memory has surfaced tonight.
~~~
Of men and song.
Soldiering and music go hand in hand.
Its a strange statement is it not?
Almost conjures up the picture of the brass shining marching bands, stamping in time across some football field, glittering as they pass.
But no, think of something, more... primal.
The rhythm of a hundred boots, marching in time.
drm, drm, drm, drm
can you hear it?
and in the back ground.
left...left...left...left, right left.
the snare drums and sharp staccatos of the rifles as they blast into the night.
ratatattatatata.
but all these sounds, these layers of polyrhythmn, its not the melody.
It is the collective voices of a troop of men, voicing in a common song that will bring it all together.
Since times of old soldiers have sung to bring them together.
With that I bring you another's memory.
In memorium to the men of SISPEC and for the others that I broke my voice for.
~~~
Mamma, I want to go home.
-----
Fortification.
Doesn't that word sound impressive?
Makes you feel safe even saying it.
Thats what every infantry man wants to say about the land that they stand on.
It means that you are prepared for anything that comes.
It makes commanders want to get up and say stupid things like We hold here! And the enemy will not get past us.
But to us, right now?
Fortifications mean we dig.
On this heavily wooded hill, we dig. Every man digging 6 feet deep and 3 meters wide (yes folks, thats about the size of a volkswagen beetle for every 2 men).
They're called fox holes, miniature bunkers to keep you safe from the enemy bombardment.
If the ground is soft, and the terrain is good. It will take those 2 men 12 hours of continuous digging, moving several hundred kilos of dirt. to form their foxhole.
This night, we called it ground fireworks, as the earth was riddled with stones, and every time the chunko blade swung down, sparks would fly as the metal ricocheted off the rocks.
We had been digging for 8 hours straight, and all friendly banter had long dissolved into the dark night.
All around men lay their finger sized candles in their now waist deep holes as they wearily raised their tools.
The strangely regular sounds of metal striking stone permeate the air.
Thunk!...Thunk! Thunk!
Then the night sky lights up in a flash of blinding light, followed by the whip crack of thunder.
There is just sufficient time for a collective groan as the heavens open, and the monsoon like rains begin.
I'm gonna tell my dad I've made it big it the army!
Why the hell is that?
Coz look at this beautiful swimming pool I got me!
Laughter fills the air briefly before the commander shouts them to get back to digging... as the rain soaked our weary bodies and filled the trenches the mud was a million times heavier than the stones did.
I don't know how many hours passed, but I suddenly stopped digging to look around.
The rain had slowed to a light drizzle, making the area around just visible in the pale moon light.
The men around were moving like zombies in their watery constructs, and somewhere, some poor fools were still finding rocks to clear.
*thunk* ... *thunk* ... *thunk*
then somewhere off to the left, a lone voice raises in the night.
I don’t wanna lead this army life!
PC I wanna go,
OC don’t let me go,
Mama I wanna go ho-o-me…
The last notes echoed into the night, summoning images of hot food and warm beds.
The mental sceneries drifted away like smoke in the cold air.
I gripped my chunko harder, and dug, dug, dug.
- As told by fatboy
---------
Hope i did it justice.
n the Army
(Echo after I/C)
They say that in the army,
The ( 1 ) are/is very nice.
( 2 ),
( 3 ).
~[ Chorus ]~
1 - 2 - 3
Girls - You ask for Mona Lisa -They give you Frankenstein
Sirs - You ask for Captain Bala - They give you banana
Food - You ask for Curry Chicken - They give you chao ta rice
Pay - They give you $100 - And take back 99
Rifles - You pull the bloody trigger - The bullet fly behind
Bunk - You ask for cotton pillow - They give you porcupine
[ Chorus ]
I don’t wanna lead this army life!
PC I wanna go,
OC don’t let me go,
Mama I wanna go ho-o-me…
I like the title, and I like how the sleeping wordsmith stirs just a little as the melodies emerge from the chaos
on to other things.
The recent stories have felt forced.
Like drudging memories out from a cold lake, the words for now weave differently.
Ebbs and flows, like a tide no?
I remember more than one accusatory statement.
you don't write anymore...you don't sing anymore...
it takes deep to call upon deep, and inner light to cast shadows and colours.
And for one like me, I'm too used to the sound of the echo to perform to the empty room.
Interestingly, it seems a memory has surfaced tonight.
~~~
Of men and song.
Soldiering and music go hand in hand.
Its a strange statement is it not?
Almost conjures up the picture of the brass shining marching bands, stamping in time across some football field, glittering as they pass.
But no, think of something, more... primal.
The rhythm of a hundred boots, marching in time.
drm, drm, drm, drm
can you hear it?
and in the back ground.
left...left...left...left, right left.
the snare drums and sharp staccatos of the rifles as they blast into the night.
ratatattatatata.
but all these sounds, these layers of polyrhythmn, its not the melody.
It is the collective voices of a troop of men, voicing in a common song that will bring it all together.
Since times of old soldiers have sung to bring them together.
With that I bring you another's memory.
In memorium to the men of SISPEC and for the others that I broke my voice for.
~~~
Mamma, I want to go home.
-----
Fortification.
Doesn't that word sound impressive?
Makes you feel safe even saying it.
Thats what every infantry man wants to say about the land that they stand on.
It means that you are prepared for anything that comes.
It makes commanders want to get up and say stupid things like We hold here! And the enemy will not get past us.
But to us, right now?
Fortifications mean we dig.
On this heavily wooded hill, we dig. Every man digging 6 feet deep and 3 meters wide (yes folks, thats about the size of a volkswagen beetle for every 2 men).
They're called fox holes, miniature bunkers to keep you safe from the enemy bombardment.
If the ground is soft, and the terrain is good. It will take those 2 men 12 hours of continuous digging, moving several hundred kilos of dirt. to form their foxhole.
This night, we called it ground fireworks, as the earth was riddled with stones, and every time the chunko blade swung down, sparks would fly as the metal ricocheted off the rocks.
We had been digging for 8 hours straight, and all friendly banter had long dissolved into the dark night.
All around men lay their finger sized candles in their now waist deep holes as they wearily raised their tools.
The strangely regular sounds of metal striking stone permeate the air.
Thunk!...Thunk! Thunk!
Then the night sky lights up in a flash of blinding light, followed by the whip crack of thunder.
There is just sufficient time for a collective groan as the heavens open, and the monsoon like rains begin.
I'm gonna tell my dad I've made it big it the army!
Why the hell is that?
Coz look at this beautiful swimming pool I got me!
Laughter fills the air briefly before the commander shouts them to get back to digging... as the rain soaked our weary bodies and filled the trenches the mud was a million times heavier than the stones did.
I don't know how many hours passed, but I suddenly stopped digging to look around.
The rain had slowed to a light drizzle, making the area around just visible in the pale moon light.
The men around were moving like zombies in their watery constructs, and somewhere, some poor fools were still finding rocks to clear.
*thunk* ... *thunk* ... *thunk*
then somewhere off to the left, a lone voice raises in the night.
I don’t wanna lead this army life!
PC I wanna go,
OC don’t let me go,
Mama I wanna go ho-o-me…
The last notes echoed into the night, summoning images of hot food and warm beds.
The mental sceneries drifted away like smoke in the cold air.
I gripped my chunko harder, and dug, dug, dug.
- As told by fatboy
---------
Hope i did it justice.
n the Army
(Echo after I/C)
They say that in the army,
The ( 1 ) are/is very nice.
( 2 ),
( 3 ).
~[ Chorus ]~
1 - 2 - 3
Girls - You ask for Mona Lisa -They give you Frankenstein
Sirs - You ask for Captain Bala - They give you banana
Food - You ask for Curry Chicken - They give you chao ta rice
Pay - They give you $100 - And take back 99
Rifles - You pull the bloody trigger - The bullet fly behind
Bunk - You ask for cotton pillow - They give you porcupine
[ Chorus ]
I don’t wanna lead this army life!
PC I wanna go,
OC don’t let me go,
Mama I wanna go ho-o-me…
Monday, May 12, 2008
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
The Graymarch
Here's a spot of mood music first.
Wish I could play like this.
Its been had to write lately and to get any form of a story formed at all.
I've always said that the stories choose their audience, perhaps they choose their tellers too.
The routines of the days both comfort and confine, making the inner image of the velvet prison just a little too real for comfort.
The looming promise of change over the horizon has more then once caused more fear than relief in the last few weeks.
And then I remember that I'm called for things bigger, better and more important.
How easy it is to loose sight of the goal, and wallow in our own little lives.
So here are a few words that are have been easy for me to preach then to listen.
It'll help me, I hope it'll help you.
~~~
Vision ~
Its so easy to let your problems become your world.
You dwell, ponder and twist your mind into all kinds of knots trying solve the issues until finally you're too tired to do anything productive.
And then we forget things that are promised.
Things like Philippians 4:6-7
Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
Things like Phillipians 4:19
And my God will meet all your needs according to his glorious riches in Christ Jesus.
How about Romans 8:28
And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called according to His purpose.
Its hard people, its not an easy walk.
But don't you ever forget, God created the whole lot of this. He knew you before I was formed in the womb.
And if he is for you who or what can possible be against you?
Its Friday people, but Sunday's comin
Wish I could play like this.
Its been had to write lately and to get any form of a story formed at all.
I've always said that the stories choose their audience, perhaps they choose their tellers too.
The routines of the days both comfort and confine, making the inner image of the velvet prison just a little too real for comfort.
The looming promise of change over the horizon has more then once caused more fear than relief in the last few weeks.
And then I remember that I'm called for things bigger, better and more important.
How easy it is to loose sight of the goal, and wallow in our own little lives.
So here are a few words that are have been easy for me to preach then to listen.
It'll help me, I hope it'll help you.
~~~
Vision ~
Its so easy to let your problems become your world.
You dwell, ponder and twist your mind into all kinds of knots trying solve the issues until finally you're too tired to do anything productive.
And then we forget things that are promised.
Things like Philippians 4:6-7
Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
Things like Phillipians 4:19
And my God will meet all your needs according to his glorious riches in Christ Jesus.
How about Romans 8:28
And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called according to His purpose.
Its hard people, its not an easy walk.
But don't you ever forget, God created the whole lot of this. He knew you before I was formed in the womb.
And if he is for you who or what can possible be against you?
Its Friday people, but Sunday's comin
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