Miriam’s drum is pounding the pavement

At a rate of 60 beats per minute.

 

Another musical soul has come with the hope

That here her dreams will take root.

She steps onto the street and off the bus -

A phone number in hand and a pick in her purse

She thinks that this first day

Will inspire her first verse.

 

Miriam’s drum is pounding the pavement

At a rate of 70 beats per minute.

 musician’s soul is filled with hope –

Some producer liked her style.

She won’t have to sell her wares on the street

Playing for a dollar and some loose change.

She might have to sing someone else’s song

But at least they’ll be in her vocal range.

 

It’s a small price to pay –

Giving up one’s words and voice –

To reach an audience of a hundred

And open for some new business friend.

This is her first step to musical success

This is her first step to her hope’s end.

 

Miriam’s drum is pounding the pavement

At a rate of 80 beats per minute.

 

It’s not just about her voice, she finds out

And everyone here can play guitar.

The producer chastises her like a child:

It’s about her hips and dips and curves

She has to wear better-than-Target clothes.

And her name is no longer hers.

 

She’s already had seven different members

Of her three piece county band.

One moved on to Memphis,

Another just disappeared.

The other two? They  were more successful than her

Just like she always feared.

 

Our musician’s heart is pounding in her chest

At the rate of 90 beats per minute.

 

This is her last chance, she thinks,

To make a lasting impression.

Her pulse is going so fast

That she has lost her health and remains unfocused

She’s in a mix of depression and aggression

All she really wanted was the attention of us.

 

She thinks the producer is reaching

For the guitar that is laid in her lap.

So she cringes as he touches her leg instead.

She thought that she came here to share in art

Not expose her body, sell a product,

And silence the music in her heart.

 

Miriam’s drum is not pounding the pavement.

There are no beats in this minute.

 

Our musical soul has picked her foot up

Off the streets of and onto a one-way bus.

She has packed up her dreams and her life.

Maybe in some other town she could have been a star

A writer, singing her own songs

But Nashville has stolen her acoustic guitar.

 

Miriam’s drum is pounding the pavement

At a rate of 60 beats per minute…

The End. The End. It does not come like a thief in the night. It comes with blatant and obvious intentions. It does not happen quickly. It takes time, planning, and deceit. It is a powerful, moving beast that pushes aside all those it fears. It is too cowardly to fight directly and instead wears down the hopes and spirits of it foes. Perhaps we allowed it to happen. Perhaps we started fighting too late, or gave up too soon. Perhaps we weren't mean to win. The End. What else can throw you from your home with no remorse? A lifetime of memories and relations out the door. What else can show you ever which way but the right one? A maze of cruel intentions for its own pleasure. What else can kill 1000 people and leave no remains? A trick so good even I don't remember them. Perhaps we could have stopped it. Perhaps we turned our heads. Perhaps it was just too obvious. The End. We fell for it hook, line, and sinker. This isn't the first place it came to. We laid down our own convictions and beliefs. This is its doing, not ours. We all must leave now. This is was happens when you stay. The End.

UnconditionalLie to me. Tell me its all not true Fake everything Just don't let it be Pretend you have no clue What could honesty bring? I'm not you It's called love unconditional It's what I do Answer the call.

So what is it that I've learned these past days About faith and God and mankind's ways? People whose thoughts and beliefs seem so empty Is that the way they see me? It starts with a simple game of boy meets girl Skipping over the law of boy meets world Forget about the way into the city pearled Leave behind friends and brothers Attract the girl whose face is most painted and hair most curled Make sure you're known and you're seen Because you can't miss out on anything Sing your song and dance your dance How good is the offering you bring? Lose the plot, drop the ball And close your eys as we fall Is this how it has to be Just because He forgave us all? Now bow your head and talk to God It's time to be reverant its time to be calm But don't pay attention, just look around Hold your girlfriend's palm Go up front once more, third time this week Just what is it you're looking for? Ask forgiveness, ask for love You know He'll always give some more.

When I opened the folder The box said “Check Here.” I looked around and thought to myself, “Check Where?” The answer didn’t seem right The box wasn’t me. But the paper said “Check Here.” When I opened the folder The box said “Check Here.” I looked around and whispered out loud, “Check Where?” The answer didn’t seem right The box wasn’t me. But the paper said “Check Here.” When I opened the folder The box said “Check Here.” I looked around and said out loud, “Check Where?” The answer didn’t seem right The box wasn’t me. But the paper said “Check Here.” When I opened the folder The box said “Check Here.” I looked around and screamed out loud, “Check Where?” The answer didn’t seem right The box wasn’t me. But the paper said “Check Here.” When I opened the folder The box said “Check Here.” I look around and thought to myself, “Nowhere.” The answer seemed just right The box wasn’t me. I left and went “Out There.”

Hand Made Fake And so I guess it was all one big game I got to be you little toy, your emotions to tame. You fed me lies, would cut open my heart And now its finished before it could really start. I hope it was good for you, That my pain wasn't a waste. Tell me you did what you set out to do, Or didn't you want more than a taste? In a three strand wire strung together I didn't think you'd be the one to break. So worried about tomorrow and forever Not the most of today to make. And lies upon lies upoone lies you feed To me, to him, to yourself, to she If only you had known what you really did need If only I had known what you'd turn out to be. I pity you, caught in your made-up mind Where you control and take and take and take I pray one day I'll somehow find That you're not your own hand made fake.

Just Like You I'm not just a little toy So don't put me on the shelf I have feelings too And I hurt just like you I hurt just like you I hurt just like you Brought me to like Made me feel again Had a little strife Where did it begin Had a couple laughs Just with you and me Special kind of love One and one make three Then it fell apart Quick as it began Take my little heart Break it once again I'm not just a little toy So don't put me on the shelf I have feelings too And I hurt just like you I hurt just like you I hurt just like you Sure I made mistakes You know you did too Gave more than you'd take Didn't know I hurt you Screaming on the phone Yelling out my name Didn't like your tone Who are we to blame? Can't look you in the eye Can't help you when you fall Too scared to even try Just waiting for your call

And I'm sitting here, waiting for her to call, Scared that maybe, somehow, I devised my own fall. Wanting so badly to be with her, spend time with her; Forgetting to talk it all out together And I'm sitting here, waiting to hear her voice, Letting me know her decisions, what will be her choice. Wanting so badly for her to pick me, to be with me; All I'm thinking about is me, me, me. And I'm sitting here, her face in my mind, The mosst beauteous and strong and pleasant one could find. Wanting so badly to hold her smile in my lips, to touch her lips; Teasing and taunting and trying to build friendships. And I'm sittin ghere, trying to put into words what I think, Understanding the faillings of the flesh, knowing its her spirit I want to drink. Wanting so badly to be good and trusting, for her just to trust me; Just sitting here, hoping for all that can be.

An Innocent Man Most have lost their faith by knowledge too small, From not knowing what the future will hold. But how many hearts have grown so cold Because their God revealed to them all? Of angels and demons my friend did cry The haunted his lost mind both day and night. His eyes had to squint from truth in the light And in his darkest dreams his soul would die His body on pills and they closed his mind And they blackend his door to salvation They say the illness was his creation And their role to define, block, and to bind.

An innocent man was taken away Simply so the doctors would get their pay.

I have made this pledge to you Before we've had the chance to meet, Before I know who you'll be, I wait to make one of two. I wait until in marriage we greet Before I turn chastity's key. I have chosen you as my one and only mate Baecause in Truth, true love does wait.

I mistake in seeing thine eyes that shine Breaking away the long gap between class and past Making me regret the roles that were cast And instill the fear of crossing the line I cannot act in a play that is mine I would play my role and learn it too fast As the change of the two would not be vast I met with you on a dark, starlit night While others set up lines not to pass Begninning the secret thoughts I must fight You must leave me as no one has Or you may let my try to be your knight To let me call those starry eyes mine, Alas.

You don't remember it, do you? Don't feel left out - most people don't. They don't want us to. If everyone remembered then the murders, the molesters, the self-indulgent and self-righteous would have no one but each other to keep company. And what's a world without a few good men? I guess its all my fault, really. "Where you place your heart is what your treasure is." That's in the Bible. (Or something like it.) I found the covenant of the Ark, but I erred. I didn't put God inside of it. Instead I placed a magical butterfly. I knew for a fact that once placed there, my treasure could never be harmed - could never leave - would always be special. I never imagined it would want to leave. I guess we all forget sooner or later. The white chalk gets washed away or the numbeers become radical and fractions. It's a small world, one that can only hold so many people. It just takes a hop, skp, and a rhyme... but everyone forgets it eventually. Its not hard to find again. That world of hopes and dreams - just a game of hopscoch is all it takes. Short stories are truly the best way of expressing an idea. It takes the write a few moments to develop his ideas - it takes the reader a lifetime of events to truly understand exactly why each precise word was chosen, what concepts and motiffs were introduced. Don't get me wrong - short stories are not meant to confuse... only express."

When darkness came with the passing of the sun, none stood unchanged. They didn't know what they had, or what they had become. They took the battle into their own hands, fighting demons of untold power. Not one of them stood up. They took a slap from Death's bony hand as a baby takes milk from its mother's breast. They were all one flock - but they didn't realize they were all wolves in sheepskin. The sun gave them hope. They turned away from it. The sun lit the path. They made tunnels. The sun loved them. They built ceilings. They thought their own self made artificial light could be a replacement. It failed them. The sun was their leader. They revolted. There was no battle. The sun knew he was no longer wanted. His light would be useful elsewhere. When the nation wished they had the sun, they didn't even know where to look. Like a worm in the Earth a new desire arose. Like a snake ruining the Garden, they were decieved. A child regretted. A mother decieved. A friendship broken. A thought made reality. The boundaries were unlimited. They all led to the only plane they could truly acheive without the sun. They dug themselves into the cold dry wastelands of war, forgetting the once prosperous nation. They forgot the sun.

Pardon me, but I do believe you did forget And you left behind your faithful marionette You controlled him so well on the cross at your fingertips His voice matched yours, complete with ruby lips When you played with your little foolish toy There was an emerald gleam in his eye that made him seem like a boy But this was no Pinnochio tale with a long nose For he and his cricket were never so close If dummies can dream like we humans do Then his Dreamweaver was you Pardon me, not to be rude But wat you've done was most crude You cut the very same string which you had sown You left him at the Pawn Shop's shelf with no home You must have made a selfish mistake Or did you mean for this puppet's woden heart to break? You must remember the act you two had The one your friends asked for when they were sad You've no choice you must recall How you were the only Cinderella at his magical Ball. Pardon me, but I do believe you did forget And left behind your faithful marionette.