Why the new stuff?

I noticed that when I had some time and went back to this site I was drawn to the most recent pages (songs) I had posted. Only I and the wordpress file dates know what those are but there I was, picking them off the list.

Why is that I wondered?

I am guessing that in the creative process those are the “top of mind”. They are the songs that are re-sidual and still echoing. Or, maybe something more subtle. Is it a sub-concious thing that tells the writer that the new songs are “better”? Why is “thinkin’ about it” “better” than “Heaven knows”?

Is it both? I think so.

The top of mind to the songwriter is analogous to the top ten radio show. It is what is current, hip, and playing on their internal station. New stuff comes in. Number one last week slips to number four this week.

And for the creative writer, the latest stuff is the “best” stuff. If not, then why go back to the well? Why edit the piece 20 or 30 times? Why hear it morning, day and night? Why craft? Why try?

Because every writer believes that the piece you will write tommorow or next week is surely going to be “the one”. The one that is still playing 30 years after it was released. A capture of thought, word and melody that becomes a social icon to some group of people across time and space.

There’s nothing new under the sun. People have always loved the new, from the hill in Athens, to facebook status updates. Some “new” is seemingly more meaningful and lasting. Maybe that is the secret to an “old favorite”. )

The mind’s eye. What is this?

The mind’s eye. An amazing place. Is that where the eyes and ears of a poet meet and merge? Perchance.

As the first line of “What is this?” referenced addiction… images and symbols entered that place, my mind’s eye.

I could see a person, bowed down, chin tucked into their chest, sheltering their face, not wanting to look anywhere. Not at me, you, or anyone. Symbols if you will, of the next line. Shame.

And still the afflicted know that there are places of lush beauty. But in the dark and grey emptiness of feeding self, in whatever addiction, physical, mental etc., those places are far away. If we have ever been where this person is we can share in the feeling that those pretty places are not for us. Maybe for others that are free, not ashamed, and have hope.

Yet, in this barreness there is still a light that is relentless, pursuing and always there. But being in such a wretched state who would dare to hope, let alone to look at the light? Not wanting to look up. Knowing there was light there but wanting to stay in the shadows. Alone and forgotten.

And what would cause hope in such a place? What could overwhelm the hopelessness? What can make such a wreck of a human move? A flood. A flood of what?

Of good advice? Of good intentions? Of human wisdom? No, those all fall short in their depth or bredth.

But grace, oh grace, divine grace would lift that one from the ground. And float them. Like a tiny human body in the middle of the ocean, grace would loose the feet and what the hands held onto would be let go. And as that grace lifted the shattered, the face would look up to see what caused such a flood and the realization of the mercy raining down would become apparent, overwhelming so. And lead to the reciever to The Giver. The ultimate answer to What is this? as always is not a “what” but a “who”.

…”Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!”… (Rom 7:24)

Last week

It appears that if I can get one blog entry per week I am doing pretty good.

This last week saw 5 new pages.

Friend of God – Abraham was called that. And, for all his shortcomings, he was still called that. And his style of communicating with God, while reverant, was still completley honest. When God promised him an heir, he waited and he doubted. And he told God so.

We should be like that. There is not going to be a word that falls from our lips that God doesn’t know is coming. What kind of relationship can be intimate without a blatent honesty between the parties? God is painfully honest with us. He seeks us to do the same, and be a true friend of His. What a privelege!
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Closer – the first line of closer arrived as I turned into the cemetary. A place full of people who were. Some had surely lived in a way that they grew closer to God as they aged, others who didn’t. But the grave marks the end of our effort in that choice. And I started thinking about the qualities in us that can make us closer.
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Such were some of you – oh what hope that scripture is! The clearly implied change from what some in the church used to be… To what they are now! To what we are now. From what I was… To what I am! From how I used to walk, to how I can walk now.
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Standard song of surrender – is there such a thing? I don’t know. The principles of the surrendered life are common however. Lay down, let go, forget, step off, no returning.
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For this branch – inspired from a interview I heard on the All About Worship podcast. They were interviewing a man named Jared Anderson. He said something about his living with a hope that your last day before you die would be your best day.

I liked that. So I started with that. Then I pondered how that was a request of God, as all things are. And The relationship of being something tended by God for the fufilment of that desire. And few things take as much hands on care to produce an abundant crop as a vineyard.

“I am the vine; you are the branches. If a man remains in me and I in him, he will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing.” said Jesus. ( John 15:5)

For this Branch was the lyrical result of that pondering.

Then again…quick is okay (or can be)

You know… Sometimes they just come too quick. So that last post about slowing it down. That works sometimes. Not this last few days.

2 new pages were posted in the last few days. “Throw me to the wind” and “Heaven knows” .

Saturday saw 2 more starting as leaves were being raked and children were enjoying a beautiful outside play day.

And after a quick look it seems there are 12 in various states of completion, all the way back to Feb 25th.

Stay tuned. New items arriving daily.

Slowin it down

The ear of a poet
The twist of a phrase
Viola! Eureka
The meter and phase
A little rhymin’
A little timin’
A little pausin’
Do Ya wanna chime in?

—

Hmmm, I see no comments to my first two posts. And I see I haven’t posted a “blog entry” in X months which in web time is LIKE FOREVER!

Sooooo….
It seems that it is a hard thing not to rush when inspiration strikes. Yet I have heard about who does …where Angels fear to tread.
I muse…

If inspiration is a external thing you by definition can’t control it. If it’s internal… then that falls to our “self control”, and if that be not strong then, well. I muse further that the heart of a poet is fed from all stimuli and the brain of this poet may be too scattered to control it.
But messing with musing aside… My previous 20 years of writing experience told me not to muse, I felt sure it was just one of those things. When it’s ready, it’s ready.
Now, I have taken a road less traveled to me. I intentionally tried a change of tact. I have been working hard not to be prolific, or at least not to be prolific quickly, and publishing those lyrics on this blog.
And it occurs to me, I have never been so fluid, and inspired, to write as over the last 3 months. Everyday I “get” something new and I am being disciplined in the capture of it. But not in the completion of it.
And, it helps to slow a writer down (at least like me) if there are lots of other things in the way. Day job, baby, wedding, birthday, dentist, taxes, bills, sleep, church, wal-mart, lather, rinse, repeat.
But the background of the songs in the queue (previously jotted down) keep humming right along. So the new one today gets a few lines and a quick recording just to capture the idea. Then the other 4 that are stewing in the pot get some work, maybe a little seasoning. If it takes a week or two to “finish one off” that’s okay. At least that’s what I keep telling myself.
I have really tried to apply this approach to my last page post – Am I rock?.
That one took a while. The premise was simple. Will I go? But the rest, kept coming and twisting. And it ended up with two chorus parts and a lot of words. But I didn’t cut it off like I have before on other pieces. The juxtaposition of the gifts a Christian has, that we’ve been given, and the darkness that is still out there took up long chunks of text. But in the arrangement they are strung together quite quickly. I told myself, that’s okay. Because both of those worlds we are called to go to.
And I didn’t rush it. I pounded it out on a blackberry. That helps slow down the flow, if you know what I mean.
What have you found that helps you “know” when one of your pieces is done? Do most come in a flurry and done?

Do most take a good amount of time?

Love to hear from you.
God bless you!

What makes up the heart of a poet?

Here are some of my thoughts, I’d love to hear yours.

A propensity to see, hear and feel. And then find the twist of a phrase that lands in perfect time. Or imperfect time if need be.

Really hearing the innocent laugh and giggle of a child.

Seeing the real grown up pain of real loss.

Listening to that nagging assurance that this will not be forever.

And for me, the known meaninglessness of legacy in the scope of eternity, but the drive to achieve it, to some degree, none the less. Knowing that those that went before me left some meaning for me, in their words and songs, maybe I can leave some for others.

It works like this… Walking outside after work to a sky that is almost all a vivid orange/red, while you know that your lyrics have been passed to the Mike Dodson (bass player of David Crowder Band) kicks off “I got hope, I got hope, the sky’s on fire, but I got hope”. Which quickly evolves as you realize that your hope that we have if we are in Christ Jesus is far greater then the music, or any opportunity, here in this life.

Or, driving in the early morning with dark threatening clouds in your rear-view mirror generates 4 little words. “Runnin’ from the rain”. Not the rain in the rear-view, but the allegorical rain, that comes with the storms of life. Large or small, Spectacular or mundane, and the need for shelter from it all. And where we can find it.

And it goes on and on. How long does it take to get the heart of a poet? I don’t know, was I born with it? Did it develop over time? If it’s real (and it sure feels real) why didn’t I listen to it more, and sooner? Was I waiting? For what? To feel complete, capable, assured? Maybe after 40 something years it is ripe and ready for the picking.

Hello world!

I like that.  I like that a lot.  “Hello World”.  One of the most elementary programs in most programming books.  A very simple program.  When I couldn’t make that work my suspicions were confirmed.  I am not a programmer, I am not a programmer, I am not a programmer.

But, maybe… I’m a writer.  “Hello World” happens to be the title of the first song on the first contemporary Christian collection of lyrics for a full length album I have ever written.

Hello World indeed.

“Hello world, it’s just me.
One little fish in a great big sea.
I say this Jesus, who died on a tree, say He’s the Savior of both you and me.”

You can see more of that effort at, Conflicting Signals

I’ve been writing for more than 25 years altogether and after a year or two of playing with Conflicting Signals, I think it is conceptually done.  But, as they used to say in the old record industry “nothings final ’til it’s vinyl”!

I sure would like to get that done before it’s time to say “Good-bye World”.