Dreamsongs: A Collection of Lyrical Ballads

[_Always Changing]

Heartfelt poetry worth publishing. And I don't usually get off on poetry. Keep it going.

[_grindael]

Heartfelt poetry worth publishing. And I don't usually get off on poetry. Keep it going.

Thank you. I wrote this a decade after I left the Church when I was contemplating my own state of mind and the experiences I had passed through and what it all meant to me at the time. I've thought of publishing it. (Passages is only the First Part of Dreamsongs, there are half a dozen or so more). It's a work in progress. There are only about four Chapters left of this Part. If I get any more responses after that, I'll be happy to continue the narrative.

[_grindael]

ii. another alibi

Mother’s got her religion
and Dad’s got the big C,
leaving me with nothing,
nothing but those silent screams.
Always running, always running
with nowhere left to hide,
left with another alibi.

And no refuge from the feelings
buried so deep inside,
only scars and stains upon a soul
that got too deep to push aside,
leaving another alibi.

But I’ve come to know
the answer to it all.
It was just another fall,
just another fall.
And I’ve come to see
the reason for it all.
It was just another fall,
just another fall.

From my walk in that state of innocence
when things seemed to make so much sense.
But I can’t get back to that child-like place
and there is nowhere to run, no state of grace:
For all the blue skies that I used to see
have become another alibi to me.

Jenny’s got her freedom
and the past is now a dream,
leaving me with memories
and the chains she put on me.
Always running, always running
with nowhere left to hide:
leaving another alibi.

And no refuge from the feelings
buried so deep inside,
only scars and stains upon a soul
that got too deep to push aside,
leaving another alibi.

But I’ve come to know
the answer to it all.
It was just another fall,
just another fall.
And I’ve come to see
the reason for it all.
It was just another fall,
just another fall.

iii. a better part of me

If you told me all the secrets
so deep within your heart,
what would they be? What would I see?
If you showed me all the beauty
so deep inside your soul,
what would I see? What would I see?

Can I ever really find
what I’m looking for?
Can I ever really pass
through that open door?
Can I ever hope to see
a better part of me?

If you told me all the things
that I want to hear,
would I be happy? Would I be?
If you showed me all the love
that I need so much,
would that change me? Set me free?

Believe me when I say
you move me in your way.
And though love moves us all,
I never heard the call.
Believe me when I tell you
I wish that I could see this through.

So don’t tell me all your secrets
for I know they aren’t mine.(to know)
And don’t show me all your beauty
for I can never hope to find.(or show)
A better part of me.

If you told me what to do,
would I become what you are?
If you showed me all your feelings,
would I ever know what’s in your heart?
What would I see?
What would I see?

Can I ever really find
what I’m looking for?
Can I ever really pass
through that open door?
Can I ever hope to see
a better part of me?

Believe me when I say
I love you in my way.
And though love takes me high
so high, I always fall.
Into the pit of the abyss
descending down into darkness.

So don’t tell me all your secrets
for I know they aren’t mine.(to know)
And don’t show me all your beauty
for I can never hope to find.(or show)
A better part of me.

[_grindael]

iv. degrees

Time reveals our fate
but we never know the day,
if we happen to believe
then we might be shown the way.

I lost you by degrees
just watched you slip away,
and the darkness that created
kept all my dreams at bay.

Love reveals our hearts:
it is the fire within our souls,
and what we cannot conceive
time will surely unfold.
I tried to comprehend
to have and to hold,
but the problems this created
weigh me like a stone.

Still, there are answers that come
and they stagger the waking mind,
By degrees we are undone
as we cut the ties that bind.

There are dreamsongs in our lives
but does the truth outweigh the lies?
By degrees we are undone
and by degrees we slowly die.

Time can spread her wings
fly us to another place,
where we can stand and dream
or put on another face.
You lost me by degrees
and found out much too late,
little by little we change
until we are lost without a trace.

Love can bring you down
and bring on the night,
when knowledge makes you bleed
cutting you up inside.
You led me by the hand
out into the light,
then turned and walked away
to live another lie.

Still, there are answers that come
and they stagger the waking mind,
By degrees we are undone
as we cut the ties that bind.

v. this broken heart

You and me.
caught in-between.
Time will tell
of broken hearts,
all the reasons
for broken hearts.

You and me.
Caught in-between.
Time will tell
why broken hearts,
cannot forget,
how broken hearts
fill with regret.

I’m learning again
how to say goodbye,
but to trade that
for your freedom
what is the reason?
Won’t you tell
me the reason?

And I’ll never reach out
it’s something I won’t do,
I’ll wait on time to call:
as she leaves her wounds.
Showing love that meant nothing
nothing at all,
only broken promises
and lies and lies
and lies and lies.

You and me.
Caught in-between.
Time will show
why this broken heart
must let you go.
Why you will
never know.

I can’t let it show.
You will never know.
You will never know.
Never know, never know.

And I’ll never reach out
it’s something I won’t do,
I’ll wait on time to call:
as she leaves her wounds.

[_grindael]

vi. which way you going?

I won’t belabor the obvious
but at this moment I must tell you,
I am overcome by emotion
and I am lost inside a truth.

Where we stand is in question
because you won’t show your heart,
I may have a predilection
but that’s not a good place to start.

All I know is what I see.
Which way you going
is all I want to say.
Which way you going
and where the “F” are we?
Which way, which way,
which way you going?

I’m not totally oblivious:
a descending angel still dreams.
Wrapped up here in my solitude
I’m still beaten down by silent screams.

Where we stand is in question
because you won’t show your heart,
I may have a predilection
but that’s not a good place to start.

All I know is what I see.
Which way you going
is all I want to say.
Which way you going
and where the “F” are we?
Which way, which way,
which way you going?

And where the “F” are we?

vii. on the outside

There are so many questions
that come to mind
when you are living in pain.
There are so many reasons
that you don’t know why
the soul gets so scarred and stained.

It’s really nothing
to the people you meet,
but occasionally you
can see something
if you let yourself get weak.
Maybe it’s consolation
that the feelings you’ve shown,
are worth the isolation
that you have come to know.

There are so many questions
that come to mind
and it can drive you insane.
There are so many reasons
that you don’t know why
your life never stays the same.

It’s really nothing
just the words in a song,
but occasionally you
can see something
as you keep moving along.
And maybe the temptation
makes the feelings you hide,
worth the privation (you suffer)
if they’re left on the inside.

It’s really nothing
to the people you meet,
but occasionally you
can learn something
if you let yourself get weak.
Maybe it’s consolation
all the feelings that died
are worth the isolation
you have to suffer
from those on the outside.

[_grindael]

i. the far horizons

Forging different unions
on numerous wavelengths,
emotional obligations
that tax our strength.
Making different contacts
raising new frequencies,
tentative contracts
broken so easily.

By the superficial and shallow
those strangers to the straight and narrow,
that we leave upon the far horizons
to never know what might have been.
So flashy but inconsistent
is their path to self appeasement,
that leaves them on the far horizons
to never know what might have been.

Left to drift...

Forging new connections
on these timeless wavelengths,
emotional attachments
that tax our strength.
Making new realities
finding static on the dial
that proves our integrity
when it is put on trial.

By the superficial and shallow
those strangers to the straight and narrow,
that we leave upon the far horizons
to never know what might have been.
So flashy but inconsistent
is their path to self appeasement,
that leaves then on the far horizons
to never know what might have been.

Left to drift...

[_grindael]

ii. isolation

Waiting here in desperate silence
in perfect isolation.
Fallen so far from innocence
and any communication
with anyone – not anyone.

And it’s just no good anymore
these broken pieces of my stained-glass soul
fit only for my epitaph,
litter the ground behind me
like a well worn path.
Their jagged edges sharp as any blade
cut anyone who comes too close,
and though I try, and cannot supply
the means to stop their pain,
and so I keep hurting them
again and again and again.

So I sit here in silence
in perfect isolation,
knowing that my lost innocence
will bring no consolation
from anyone – not anyone.

And it’s just no good anymore
and I wonder, yeah I wonder
what the hell I’ve been trying for?

iii. passing through

Is it any wonder
we’re all just passing through.
Is it any wonder
they've got nothing to lose?

Take your time and take a good look around
at all of the people in this dead-end town.
Moving around from day to day,
playing the games that people will play.

Taking my time
trying to make things right,
closing my eyes
to the days and nights.
Knowing inside
I’m only passing through,
that there is so little time
left for me and you.

Is it any wonder
they tell me I’m deep?
Is it any wonder
that I’m losing sleep?

It’s there in all the things that I do.
It’s there in all the things I say to you.
I’m only passing through...

Take just a minute and hear what I’ve got to say:
Too many people live just for today.
Quick to judge and to criticize,
they only look in from the outside.

Taking my time
trying to make things right,
closing my eyes
to the days and nights.
Knowing inside
I’m only passing through,
that there is so little time
left for me and you.

Is it any wonder
I’m almost insane?
Is it any wonder
I can’t hide from the pain?

It’s there in all the moves that I make.
It’s there in all the lines on my face.
I’m lost without a trace...

Is it any wonder
I can’t play no more games?
Is it any wonder
I can’t handle the change?

Is it any wonder
We’re all just passing through?
Is it any wonder
They've got so much to lose?

[_grindael]

i. backward glance

A backward glance may be worth the time
depending on what you hope to find.
When the future holds no remedies
for those who can never be released.

While God alone
may know how much to give
and just how much to take,
though some may doubt
if he lives
or is even awake.

But God is not dead
or even sleeping,
He is just off somewhere
quietly weeping,
for the passage of
some poor dreaming fool,
who’s journey has been
far too cruel.

Who searched for the power to transcend
the limitations of ordinary men,
and lived with all the mortal fears
of losing what he held so dear.
Things that once seemed to make sense
before the fall from innocence.

A backwards glance may be worth the time
depending on what you hope to find,
of what time alone will surely tell
about this passage though a season of hell.

While God alone
may know how much to give
and just how much to take,
though some may doubt
if he lives
or is even awake.

But God is not dead
or even sleeping,
He is just off somewhere
quietly weeping,
for the passage of
some poor dreaming fool,
who’s journey has been
far too cruel.

Who searched for the power to transcend
the limitations of ordinary men,
and lived with all the mortal fears
of losing what he held so dear.
Things that once seemed to make sense
before the fall from innocence.

[_grindael]

i. crying

There is an emptiness inside of me
deeply staining my soul,
sealed within my consciousness
before the stars were old.

I have wandered along forgotten roads
for a taste of Paradise,
and known the burdens of this mortal life
from which so many have died.

And my spirit is crying.
My spirit is crying,
it’s crying, crying.

I have found through this emptiness
no reason for me to be,
for all my pathways have been meaningless:
there is nothing more I need to see.
But the benefits of loneliness
are the strangeness of my dreams.

In my dreams I am crying.
In my dreams I am crying,
I’m crying, crying.

I can’t see beyond this loneliness
in the portents of my dreams,
I can only feel this desperateness
to find out what it means.

But the Guardians of Paradise
have refused my company,
and my spirit has been wandering
searching for a time of peace,
when knowledge returns the innocence
that will make all hatred cease.

But my spirit is dying.
My spirit is dying,
It’s dying, dying.

All the Guardians themselves
cannot give these things to me,
still I have felt in them the emptiness
measured in painful degrees,
for a world that has been dangerous
to one who is so weak.
And though I’ve seen the gates of Paradise
they are still closed to me.

For I can’t forget the sadness
that put these chains on me,
as the night returns to haunt me
like the broken fire of my dreams.

In my dreams I am crying.
In my dreams I am crying,
I’m crying, crying.
In my dreams I am crying.
In my dreams I am crying.
I’m crying, crying,
crying, crying.

ii. passages

The sun beat down upon me
as I turned to walk away,
and you weren’t yet a memory
when something told me I should stay.
Yet somehow I knew I would
get lost once more to the night.
That pain inside so long withstood
will surface again (again and again)
with the morning’s light.

And the questions buried deep inside
for uncounted years unknown,
will lose their only place to hide
in a mind that is so alone.
As the night returns to haunt me
like the broken fire of my dreams,
until the restlessness will claim me
like the road will claim my feet.

And when I turn and look behind
I look into a troubled mind,
and the cruelty of those memories
like the message of the truth
speaks to me and speaks to you
in the passing of our youth.
And the waking of those memories
like the passing of the years,
speaks to you and speaks to me
in the passing of our tears.

And somewhere in the memories
I keep hoping I can find,
some thread of synchronicity
to soothe my troubled mind.
As I stare again at the city lights
so bright like I long to be,
the restlessness of the night
calls me like the wind calls the leaves.

And somewhere in the tangled feelings
of all my experience,
I focus on some kind of meaning
that slips into forgetfulness.
As the night returns to haunt me
like the broken fire of my dreams,
until the restlessness will claim me
like the road will claim my feet.

But when I turn and look behind
I look into a tortured mind,
and the cruelty of those memories
like the message of the truth,
speaks to me and speaks to you
of the passing of our youth.
And the waking of those memories
like the passing of the years,
speaks to you and speaks to me
in the passing of our tears.

iii. a multitude of sins

Between the time it takes
one season to change to another,
you can live a whole lifetime
while the leaves change their colors.
Sometimes, that is all you get.
And if it still hasn’t hit you yet,
your life is over.
You’re just not dead.

On the outside.

Between the time it takes
one person to change their mind,
you can live or you can die
or just run out of time.
Sometimes, that all that there is.
And if you never saw it comin’
well, time reveals a multitude of sins.

On the inside.

iv. another passage?

I was a bright star
in the morning sky,
trailing clouds of glory:
immortal spirit
wrapped in this body.

So I once believed…

Crying for lost innocence,
brought down by corruption
of the flesh.(LDS, LDS)
Waiting once more
for the veil to be rent.

I was a bright star
long before my fall,
searching for answers:
descending angel
clutching keys to lost doors.

All I might achieve…

Crying for lost innocence
brought down by corruption
of the flesh.(LDS, LDS)
Waiting once more
for the veil to be rent.

Here at this journey’s end.

~fini~

[_grindael]

Shall I continue? Comments?