David Bowie and Blackstar Lyrics

I have been listening to David Bowie’s last album everyday since my girlfriend bought it. Many people know that I am a student of religion and philosophy. So, even before he passed on from this life to the next, I heard some words in this songs that made me think about Christianity.  The title song itself “Blackstar” caused me to think he was writing about religion because the Devil is refered t as the Morning Star. I think by calling himself a Blackstar he was admitting that knew he was a sinner in need of salvation.

To be more specific, Blackstar seems to be a revelation (a conversation) between himself and his Spirit. Here are some lyrics that stuck out to me:

“In the villa of Orman.”

Orman is in Syria and Jesus did some inportant things in Syria. Did you know that Jesus appointed Peter as the first Pope while in Syria?  So, that solitary candle, could mean the beginning of the Church. Was David Bowie Catholic?  I don’t know. Maybe this is his way of saying he was.

“Something happened on the day he died
Spirit rose a metre and stepped aside
Somebody else took his place, and bravely cried”

The Bible says know that Jesus cried in The Garden of Gethsemene and that he took our place in Death. Christians believe that something did indeed happen on the day of execution. Salvation happened.

” On the day of execution, on the day of execution only women kneel and smile,”

Now this lyric brings to the foreground the woman who was at Jesus’ grave. There were no men gathered there. Only Mary Magdelene was present when he Jesus approached his own tomb. She was kneeling and weeping.  But imagine the “smile” she would have had on her face when she realized it was in fact Jesus that she was talking to in John 20:16-18

These few lines from Blackstar make me smile, just as Mary must have smiled. Because as a Christian, I want to believe that David Bowie, is a brother in Christ and  will be singing in God almighty Choir when I get there myself.

More lyrics from “Blackstar.”

Something happened on the day he died
Spirit rose a metre and stepped aside
Somebody else took his place,

How many times does an angel fall?
How many people lie instead of talking tall?
He trod on sacred ground, he cried loud into the crowd

I can’t answer why
Just go with me
I’m-a take you home
Take your passport and shoes
And your sedatives, boo
You’re a flash in the pan
I’m the Great I Am

I can’t answer why
But I can tell you how
We were born upside-down

Born the wrong way ‘round

Thank you for reading. I know religion is a hard subject to read about, expecially if it is somepne else’s explanations that they have cobbled together on their own. I realize I am only a person and I havven’t an answers, only curiosity. We will all miss David Bowie and I like to imagine him in heaven working with all those voices to create a joyful noise.

Little Cactus

Little Cactus

In a crumbling fence
Among these lost ruins
The little plant lives

The sand is so timeless
Where it waits for a drink
Sun comes up, night draws on
and it never shrinks

Only millimeters high
So strong and so stout
It survives it’s long life
On little of nothing… wholly without

Friends: A Poem

Another poem from my poetry collection. I didn’t win the billion dollar jackpot last night, sadly. I’m not bothered by it though because I’m super-duper lucky just to be me. Thank you all for the visits and for reading my stories and poetry. Today, we received the 41st country to the site: a visit from Dublin, Ireland.  I consider all of you my friends, so here is a poem about friendship.

 

Friends

Held by a string
the only real thing
that keeps us from going
completely insane

Is having those friends
who won’t let you down
and help us to find
all that we’ve found.

Friends give their hand
they help us to stand
and find the best way
to higher dry land.

Not a common theme,
It’s not what you think,
Friend’s aren’t the way
you’ve seen on TV.

Some are far, far away
in towns, countries, and states.
They love us for us
and see through our mistakes.

A Writer

Writers

They write
They type,
They’ll edit many times

Move words
’til they’ve
perfected every line

A writer
A lover
of words and page

Writers
aren’t born
somehow their made.


I’ve was a writer even before I realized what being one meant. It was more a nagging suspicion than a revelation. There was always something inside of me trying to get free. My first experience of wanting to create a story was after reading a Conan the Barbarian book. I saw the map inside and drew my own. I tried to write a story to go along with the map, but I never got around to it. I was in seventh grade at that time.  I didn’t actually write any stories that year, but I could see the characters on the map and I began to hear character’s voices in my head. I knew where they lived, where they were going, and what they had to do.  Although, these characters and plots have been with me for a long time, I have failed to write every story,  but I’ve finished plenty along the way. I truly feel that writing is something that chose me.

The Circus Came To Town

When I was a child, I did something terrible by not speaking up when I should have. I saw something so frightening, I was too afraid to report it. I couldn’t even tell my parents about it. It has haunted me throughout my entire life and I have been seeing her face more and more lately.

Now as an adult, I live everyday with my cowardice, knowing that I allowed the unspeakable to continue. I can never take it back, I will never live it down, but I must try to get it out of my head somehow.

 

The Circus Came to Town

by Thadd Presley

Damp, dark,
a clank, a spark
a white light,
so bright
my eyes
shut tight.

It was years before,
when I was only a boy
a circus came to town
with elephants and joy

A tent
so large
all the people in town
could come right in
and look at the clowns.

In my delight, I got lost
For my family I looked
and down a dark hallway,
I saw a little girl was took.

A thick curtain fell down,
and covered the way.
I didn’t see anything
But I heard the man say.

“Come one, come all,
Gather around ya’ll.
See the beautiful Chinese
and the Japanese dolls”

But this girl I then saw
was so skinny, so thin,
with long, blond hair
she was locked up tight
a chain under her chin.

She was scarred and so young.
She spoke up quickly,
she whispered:
“Get out of here! RUN!!!”

Her eyes were so wide,
from the shock of my sight
she shook in her cage,
and her necklace of chains

“RUN!!” She cried,
“they’ll be back again!”
Afraid for my life,
Finally I did.

I stand here now
Before the world
To tell of that place,
those chains,
and that girl.

Old Man’s Last Say

I used to write poetry everyday.  Many of the poems are collected in my book “Poetry Principia,” which I wrote as a way to teach myself new styles of poetry.  You can download the book from Amazon for 99 cents. You can find many of my poems in this blog, but I invite you to take a chance and buy the book.

The Old Man’s Last Say

by Thadd Presley

“The worms can have him, for from them he was made,”
the lady remarked as she looked on the grave
and chopped at the dirt with a long handled spade.

She had buried her husband late in the day.
“The sun is too hot, we’ll wait for the shade.
I know he will rot, but he’ll not do it today.”

He was put away quickly, with no friends there to pray,
And when it was over, I remember no-one had stayed.
“Now that he’s gone, I’ll can get married this spring
with all of his money, we can buy the best things.”

But, that wasn’t the end of what that man had to say.
The ground suddenly shook all around the grave.
A great voice rose up and declared from the clay.

“You might have succeeded in ending my days
but you’ll never outlive your hate and disgrace.
I curse you this day ’til the last breath you take
A widow you are and a widow you’ll stay,”

To a cold, whining wind, his voice then gave way
and the widow never married and wasn’t seen since that day.
I come to this hill and stand near their graves.
I remember what mother told me on her final day.

Years later, in tears, she weakly proclaimed:
“I killed your father. It was my greatest mistake.
But love will always conquer a heart filled with hate.”

P.S.
Thank you for reading. I wish you all a Happy New Year 2016.

Mama’s Christmas Miracle

Mama’s Christmas Miracle
by Kathy J Parenteau

Mama told me a story a long, long time ago, not like any that I’d ever heard,
all about a little girl mama used to know, how I remember every word.
Seems like a lifetime ago, though I remember it so well.
It was a Christmas Eve I’ll never forget as far as I can tell.
We were sitting at the kitchen table, it was only my mother and me.
I was dreaming of Christmas morning and all the presents under the tree.
Dad wasn’t doing that well and money was scarce that year.
Mama found a way of telling me without me shedding one tear.
She told me a story of a little girl and a Christmas long ago,
who came from far away, a place where it rarely snowed.
Santa was just a dream to her, but she believed so much inside,
that Christmas was going to be special, so she knelt by her bed and she cried.
“Lord, let Santa remember me if not just this one time.
I promise I won’t ask for much, maybe a dolly I can call all mine.”
She closed her prayer and thanked the Lord for all that she received.
She knew that Santa would really come if only she believed.
She wrote a letter to Santa, unfamiliar to most girls and boys.
Though her list was long and full, on it there were no toys.
Only things we take for granted, like new shoes or underpants,
hair bows for her sisters and gloves to warm her brothers’ hands.
At the bottom of her list she asked, if it not be too much,
for a brand new baby doll she could hold and love and touch.
Then Christmas morning came and she looked beneath her tree,
Not a present to be found as far as she could see.
She didn’t give up hope as she heard a knocking sound.
When she opened up her door, a great big box she found.
She called out to her mother and dad, brothers and sisters too,
She said, “My prayers were answered, there’s something in here for all of you.”
Her daddy got brand new boots, her mother new underpants, her sisters got beautiful hair bows, her brothers warm gloves for their hands.
Buried deep beneath the box was a brand new baby doll and a note that said, “Merry Christmas, I love you one and all.”
I’ll never forget that story because much to my surprise,
I saw the true meaning of Christmas shining in my mother’s eyes.
For those of you who are wondering, as if you didn’t know,
The little girl in Mama’s story was my mother long ago.

Source: http://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/mamas-christmas-miracle#ixzz3vLXNPLo8

Angels On Our Shoulders

“Angels On Our Shoulders”
by Thadd Presley

In the beginning he had two:
One told him good things
and the other spoke untrue.

He grew up with them by his side.
One told him how to be a friend,
the other how to steal and lie.

Then one day, one of his angels fell
He didn’t understand what happened,
but the other laughed, “’cause you’re in hell.”

“The Angel can’t come here, although she had tried
Throughout your life, you were told the truth,
but it’s all to late, now that you’ve died.”

The Hunger (to read)

In my last post, I wrote a Letter to Santa Claus and revealed that I love to read. It’s true that I haven’t found many new books that catch my interest lately. Perhaps, I’m getting to picky. I read everyday and write everyday.

One writer that I used to read is Bentley Little. He has a knack of writing stories that really stick in my head and I find myself cringing years later when remembering a short story or a certain line. He is a talent, no doubt.  Few other writers have made me have this reaction.

Stephen King is a true writer. He has dedicated his life to turning out novel after novel, but nothing he has ever written has stuck with me for too long.  Don’t think I haven’t read all of his books and have been thinking of reading them again. There are a few I would enjoy very much.

Another writer I absolutely was fated to find and read was Isaac Asimov. The Foundation Trilogy, the Earth books, and the Robot Series are amazing and I wouldn’t be who I am today without having discovered them.

 

 

I am leaving you with a poem titled Hunger.  Enjoy.

 

Hunger

by Thadd Presley

The last sunrise brought tears about
just as blood brings years to me now.
Put behind me my crimes,
Too long, I’ve hid  from man’s eyes
long was the distance, long was the time
’til a love returned that I enjoyed in my life
It came back to me, screaming
calling, in desperate cries

Suddenly, I needed to share it still;
to find those with thoughts and those who feel,
to tell my story and allow a clear reveal
of my obsessions and of my will
by professing my great love for words; Oh, how it will feel!!

After countless ideas, my stories have piled high
and I yearn to have but one glancing eye
to cross my pages and take into mind
the story I’ve tried my entire life to write.

I can’t do this!!
Yes, I know.

But, if I words plant my words?
What would grow?
Is it right to sow that which I don’t know?
Grow in people a cancerous growth?
Make another hunger for the page, a wretched bleak fate
Begin them toward a wretched, bleak fate
with nightmares and visions, in sleeping and wake
to which there’s no end and no way to escape.

To know what’s in me will come out,
to know every whisper escapes as a shout!!
and knowing brings me to a cold shutter,
that we’ll be judged for ever word that we utter.

It’s not what goes in my mind, but what comes out
that shows what my words could possibly sprout
and reveals myself, both inside and out
made known, everywhere and throughout.

That’s what we breath
That’s what we see
That’s what we eat
When we hunger to read.

 

 

Thank you for reading. Also, if you have a blog I will be more than happy to add it on my “other blogs” page.

Gigantic Planet

My newest short story collection has a poem along with each story.  This poem loosely accents the story. The poem below is for the story “Freegonism.”

If you should ever find yourself enjoying my poetry or my short stories, please buy a copy of my ebooks.  “Thadd’s Twelve($1.99) is a collection of short stories and poetry and “Poetry Principia (.99) is a poetry collection.

 

Gigantic Planet

by Thadd Presley

 

With walls built high to the sky,
and seated on the mountain high
the shielded city shined so bright.
Only the cannons divided the night
every time a missile’s scream let fly.
And my mom told us not to cry,
for we would find our way back in time.

 

The idea took centuries of planning.
It was the undertaking of supreme understanding
and physics that included the greatest mathematics.

We began catching unknown radio-static
And combined with unparalleled skills of mechanics.

Lift off had to be perfect because this planet was Huge Gigantic.
The fuel was posi-electric, the engine quasi-magnetic.
We stood in a circle with our hands connected
and waited silently while the solar collected

The ship was a solar-quantum drive
designed for outer-galaxy flight
created by one of the Great Elder Nine.
Those Elder Ones who had positron-organic minds.
Both robot and human, the only nine still alive
Surviving the war of an ancient time.

Inside the ship was a symmetrical atomic receptor
adapted to fit the solar collector,
and in the form of two towering rings
stood the statues called the Batteries.

Did I tell you, the planet was Humongous Gigantic
with underground laboratories very deeply planted?
Because the past was so terrible and utter fantastic.
Tales of life, and war and love so romantic
and the sorrowful hatred by mankind was tragic.

Underground were homes built by a forgotten race,
who had been here a long time, but now lived in space.
Once they were humans, but the virus gave waste
It was agony for those left behind, some screaming
The whole world watch a world where infection was teaming.
Never to return, the ships left one by one long into the evening.

We traveled to a new galaxy and saw the cold surface.
We called this new planet, the Calla Bryn Sturgis.
The green air here made the scientists and military nervous.
Never before had the priest preached so a long service

But soon we would have to open the door.
There was plenty fresh air, but out there lived much more?

The zoo we brought for the new world to be filled
Many creeping things and animals and humans, but still

life would have to forge it’s own way and it wouldn’t be a pretty dance
We went so far in space that we would only got this one chance.

With our breaths held and our eyes squeezed shut
the big door squeaked opened and the air suddenly gushed

It wasn’t poisonous or acid and it didn’t give spark
So we left our ship, the craft we called “The Ark”

and stepped out into a new world to get a fresh start.
My mom told me, in order to make our lives fantastic

We were brought to a safe place, where a promise lasted.
I smiled and asked if this world was like the old, home planet.
She shook her head, smiled, and said:
“No sweetheart, our old home was Huge Gigantic.”