| Friends Only: |
[11 Feb 2020|03:09pm] |
75% of this journal is "Friend's Only"
Comment to be added
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| The Ballad of Ira Hayes |
[16 Aug 2009|02:59pm] |
Gather round you people and a story I will tell
About a brave young Indian you should remember well
From the tribe of Pima Indians, a proud and a peaceful band
They farmed the Phoenix Valley in Arizona land
Down their ditches for a thousand years the sparkling water rushed
Till their white man stole their water rights and the running water hushed
Now Ira's folks were hungry and their farms wene crops of weeds
But when war came he volunteers and forgot, the white man's greed
Call him, Drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian or the marine who went to war
Yes, call him, Drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian or the marine who went to war.
They started up Iwo Jima Hill, 250 men
But only 27 lived to walk back down that hill again
And when the fight was over and the old glory raised
One of the men who held it high was the Indian Ira Hayes
Call him, Drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian or the marine who went to war
Call him, Drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian or the marine who went to war.
Now Ira returned a hero, celebrated throughout the land
He was wined and speeched and honored, everybody shook his hand
But he was just a Pima Indian, no money crops, no chance
And at home nobody cared what Ira had done and the wind did the Indian's dance
Call him, Drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian or the marine who went to war
Call him, Drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian or the marine who went to war.
And Ira started drinking hard, jail was often his home
They let him raise the flag there and lower it like you'd throw a dog a bone
He died drunk early one morning, alone in the land he had fought to save
Two inches of water in a lonely ditch was the grave for Ira Hayes
Call him, Drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian or the marine who went to war
Yes, call him, Drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian or the marine who went to war.
Yes, call him, Drunken Ira Hayes, but his land is still as dry
And his ghost is lying thirsty in the ditch where Ira died
Call him, Drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian or the marine who went to war
Yes, call him, Drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian or the marine who went to war.
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[29 Sep 2008|03:00am] |
Break my heart
with the things that break Yours.
Break my heart
and make it like Yours.
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| by the by... |
[03 Sep 2008|08:54pm] |
a grief observed by c.s. lewis.
....EVERYONE should read it.
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| I'm exhausted. |
[03 Sep 2008|08:46pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 exhausted |
] |
I guess I didn't realize how much these past two weeks had taken a toll on me til today.
I crashed.
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[19 May 2008|09:12am] |
I'm flying to Oklahoma in 5 hours!!
Ahhhh!!!
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[17 May 2008|04:23pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 irritated |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
Cold Play -- Fix You |
] |
When you try your best, but you don't succeed
When you get what you want but not what you need
When you feel so tired but you can’t sleep
Stuck in reverse.
When the tears come streaming down your face
When you lose something you can’t replace
When you love someone but it goes to waste
Could it be worse?
Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you
And high up above or down below
When you’re too in love to let it go
But if you never try you’ll never know
“Just what your worth”
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| Untitled ( for now) |
[28 Jan 2008|12:08pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 accomplished |
] |
Her shrill voice sprang
through the clouds,
leaving the
residue of
panic. Whirling
with violent
motions she grabbed
her bag and slammed
the door behind
her, promising
never to gossip again.
What goes around,
comes back to you
in a black-
berry. Later
that day she drove
off a cliff.
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| WHY?!?!?!?! |
[02 Jan 2008|06:58pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 annoyed |
] |
...BOYS SUCK!!!
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| Pictures from New England |
[06 Sep 2007|10:50am] |
|
These are just a few digital shots-- once the film is developed I'll post those up.
( +7 )
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| Pictures from Puerto Rico |
[06 Sep 2007|10:38am] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
happy |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
The Colbert Report |
] |
Haven't done this in a while. Enjoy!
( +21 )
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| Stop all the clocks... |
[30 Aug 2007|09:17pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
sleepy |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
Colors - Just Like Heaven Soundtrack |
] |
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.
W.H. Auden
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| New happenings... |
[15 Aug 2007|09:44pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
pleased |
] |
I got a job at Starbucks.
My car is fixed.
New art.
New music.
New ideals.
New convictions.
New me (sort of).
...among other things...
This year is definately going to be different -- I know it.
...now I need to go find myself some black shoes.
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| ... |
[12 Aug 2007|07:26pm] |
|
...you live the life that you make for yourself.
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| Open Eyes |
[24 Jun 2007|01:16am] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
because my hands are dry |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
Feist -- 1234 |
] |
Like a spilled canvas,
you look at the stars,
open your eyes and your heart to the nebulous world,
sending out messages like a whispering song,
into the cosmic void, that's been there all along.
No boundaries set afar to limit the escape,
just the journey through time
and the vast distance between the soul
and the love you thought you were uncapable of giving.
And nothing else matters but that substance that's filled the empty space,
taking the place of an unrested mind.
Letting go becomes habit, a skill as natural as breathing.
Encompassed in each minute a shooting star passes by
is the legend of hope when you were ready to die.
LC
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| Never again will I go to bed at 8 pm. |
[21 Jun 2007|04:34am] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 awake |
] |
It's 4:30 in the morning and I'm watching "Platoon".
For some reason, I feel as though I won't be dreaming about happy things when I finally get around to falling asleep again.
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| Imagination |
[18 Jun 2007|01:20am] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
sleepy |
] |
A place for the stars shinning as billions,
the sun's rays in the sky, bringing glory and brilliance.
Something as natural as harvested snow,
delivered with magic in the morning light's glow.
All the earth's creatures gather around,
as they witness life's miracles journey about.
LC
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