Lyrical Release: Inside Out

Sharing some lyrics I wrote recently. Can you hear the music? Tell me what you think.

There's an elephant on my chest
Can't take it
Can't take it
Too much stress
You're love is killing me
Eating me up
From the inside out
Can't take it
Have to break this
Trying to find the way out
This life is slow dying
Waiting,begging,trying
No escape
The pain it builds
No release
Praying for peace
Can't take it
Need to shake this
The elphant on my chest
Stress without release
Have to break away
Need to getaway
Runaway from the knife
Cutting with each breath
Can't take this
You can take this
Keep this
I'm out of this mess
Put the ring from my finger
On the elephant on my chest
Lock it up safe
I'm done with your stress
Can't take this
Not going to take this
I'm out the door

©2013 R.M.Brandon

Happy Halloween

The air tuns bitter. Rust,Orange,Burgandy, and Yellow fall at the base of Evergreens. An aroma burnt Oak floats around Ghouls and Goblins heading across town. Hayrides followed by hot chocolate and marshmallows snuggled fireside.
Sit back my darlings and listen to a tale. It is All Hallows Eve.
The mask you wear with such pride, hiding who you are in real life, imagin for a moment if that was truely you.
You, Caped Crusader, will soon be called to save the fair Damsell over there. For when the moon rises full the Vampire by her side will long to taste her blood.
Look up, its almost time. The Portal between time opens wide. The stars blur. Clouds swirl with delight, then slowly their faces come to life.
Ohhh. Hold my hand little dearies I'm shaking with fright. It's Hallows Eve when nightmares come to life.

Have a Safe and Happy Halloween everyone!
2012 R.M.Brandon

Beast in the Bedsheets

It is an odd comfort, knowing those I have admired the longest in my life were little known before their demise. Apparent now in retrospect, word must travel slowly if it is to have any length to its stay.

"Fifteen minutes of fame" commonplace. The in, the here, the now. Those are the faces and names that rise quickly, then stiffle without a second thought.
Yet, the names who live in eternity, the sweet words that comfort generation upon generation, never experienced fifteen minutes while breathing.
So what then of aspirations? Is there comfort in the future even if it is not lived?

But writing is a torturous beast. It is not to seek fame. Nor is it truely to be heard. Those are things of second thought. Writing is an outlet, an escape from the pictures, sounds, faces, that fill the waking mind. It is the pressure valve that segregates sanity from ridicule.
The nature of the beast is all consuming. Tiny snippets stored through out the day that flash in the mind's eye at sunset begging their tale be told.

It is the whisper of the wind amongst the trees, the light cascading on a pile of fallen leaves. It is the tenderness in a mothers eye, the look of a father with pride. It is life in its light, and even more so in darkness. The tales of those long forgotten.

The beast consumes me, or do I it?
Never dance with the Devil if you value your soul but what if by the making your soul if pure coal? What if by design you created your own undoing? What is life but the process of dying?

Yet into the light once again life is far more than breathing in. So writing too must be more than mechanics, more than grammar and schematics.
For a house to stand it must have a foundation. For a story to sell it must weave a tale worth saying.
The story never ends, merely begins again. For life with the beast is a merciless journey.

The line between sanity and insanity is occasionaly drawn by those without imagination. In a world of walls why barricade the mind?  Only within the pages of a book can one travel the worlds beyond in any form.
The beast is a beautiful friend.
~After the release~ R.M.Brandon 2012

One Moment