G-Dawg Radio

[Verse 1]I built an altar out of granite dust,Where iron bars are quieted by rust.They stripped the linen mantle from my skin,And left no silver cup to pour within.Down here, the dark is heavy as a stone,A narrow hollow where the shadows groan,Yet beneath the weight of quiet clay,I strip the bitter edge of grief away.
[Chorus]Let the hammer fall, let the furnace burn,Every breath I surrender, every lesson I learn.Cast to the floor where the deep waters swell,I take up the fire and I suffer well.Not broken, not darkened, not bent by the rod,A pulse keeping time with the mercy of God.In the belly of stone, beneath silence and spell,I guard the white ember—and I suffer well.
[Verse 2]I weigh my sins against an open sky,to which I pray as I think of my life, My heart was stitched with brittle- dry thread,Locked in an iron coffer with the dead.Yet here I lay my weapons on the floor;I take the vows and swear to sin no more.His are the hands that lift or leave below,And to the root of grace alone I go.
[Bridge][Synth Solo - aching, surging analog oscillator lines swell over heavy sub-bass]
Not an orphan of wrath, but an exile refined,Leaving the counterfeit mercies behind.If the abyss is the place where the judgment is cast,Then love is the current that claims me at last.
[Chorus]Let the hammer fall, let the furnace burn,Every breath I surrender, every lesson I learn.Cast to the floor where the deep waters swell,I take up the fire and I suffer well.Not broken, not darkened, not bent by the rod,A pulse keeping time with the mercy of God.In the belly of stone, beneath silence and spell,I guard the white ember—and I suffer well.
[Outro][Synth Solo fades into a cathedral-like harmonic pad]Thine is the righteousness; mine is the kneeling.Thine is the silence; mine is the healing.In the pit where the holy and wounded reside,I suffer well,With nothing left to hide.I suffer well.

[Verse 1] We’re sanding down the edges of the 1994 rain Polishing the rust until it looks like gold-leaf grain I remember the basement, the smell of damp concrete But the playlist says the summer was quite the little treat We’ve built a cathedral out of low-fidelity hums Waiting for a feeling that never actually comes [Chorus] Oh, it’s the gilded static, the rose-tinted noise We’re playing with the ghosts of our battery-operated toys The past is a movie with the boring parts cut A Technicolor door that we’re keeping tightly shut It wasn’t this bright, it wasn’t this loud We’re just painting silver linings on a very average cloud (solo) [Verse 2] The sitcom laughter tracks a loneliness we’ve shelved Into the 16-bit oceans where we’ve learned to drown ourselves We trade our actual Sundays for a curated Saturday Washing the grit and the boredom and the laundry away The synth-pop is a bandage on a wound that never healed A glossy top-coat on a truth we’ve finally concealed [Bridge] It’s a photocopy of a photocopy of a dream Losing resolution at the digital seam We weren't dancing in the kitchen, we were staring at the wall But the reboot makes it look like we were having such a ball [Chorus] Oh, it’s the gilded static, the rose-tinted noise We’re playing with the ghosts of our battery-operated toys The past is a movie with the boring parts cut A Technicolor door that we’re keeping tightly shut It wasn’t this bright, it wasn’t this loud We’re just painting silver linings on a very average cloud [Outro] Just a broadcast Just a signal in the dark The tracking is off The colors are bleeding It was never this fun It was never this fun

In AM Radio for that 1970s staticky background hum type broadcast you've grown to love. 
Join my son Dmitri and I as we share our journey of becomong Catholic in this new episodic entry on G-Dawg Radio~ 
In this episode: 
Introductions and faith stories. Trivia, Name That Saint, Who You Gonna Call and more! 
Hear the new song from Daisy Futures, Monday Mass~ 

Written by Saint Ronald~ (not a play on my name, he was an actual saint, and just happened to be a poet ;) 
Monday Mass
[Verse 1]The sun is a bruise on the edge of the skyI’m kicking the gravel as the buses go byNot here for the Sunday show, the velvet and the laceI’m looking for the grit in this holy placeThe incense is heavy, the pews are cold woodI’m standing in the back where the rebels once stoodMy boots are scuffed and my heart is a drumWaiting for the kingdom of the morning to come.
[Chorus]Monday Mass, Monday MassOther days come and then they passI just want my Monday MassYeah, I’m waiting for the fire to blast!
[Verse 2]St. Ronald, the warrior, the poet of the NorthBring the saga of the islands, bring the spirit forthYou built the stone cathedral with a vow and a bladeNow I’m sitting in the silence that your courage madeI’ve got a notebook open and a pen in my handClass starts at ten in the basement of the damnedFrom the altar to the desk, it’s a different kind of warBut I’m finding what I’m living for.
[Bridge]It’s not a habit, it’s a riot in the soulTaking back the morning, taking back controlThey say the week is heavy, they say the light is dimBut I’m shouting out the verses, I’m screaming out the hymn!St. Ronald, give me strength for the test and the fightTurn the ink into blood, turn the day into light!
(solo)
[Chorus]Monday Mass, Monday MassOther days come and then they passI just want my Monday MassYeah, I’m waiting for the fire to blast!
[Outro]From the pews to the classroom!Final Prayer then run passed!Monday Mass!Monday Mass!I’m not moving ‘til the bells start to ring!Monday Mass!
(Solo)
 

Introducing Adeline Morrison~ 

A poem I wrote called "end in time" that I used for a song a while back. I like this version way more. The basis for my new book, Last Chance~ 

I wrote this poem back in 2014 and I believe it's now in the book Scattered Endz from the My Eclectic Collection Poems for the Ponder series. I honestly never cared for it that much but thought it had some decent parts. It certainly does make a great rock opera in my opinion. 

Written by Ronald Allen Bell~ 
My A.I. 
My poor friendPlease don't you cryjust sit and make what I contrive 
My AI...
Don't let fallmy bottom linewake back up it's coding time 
My A.I. 
I can't see what life was before A.I my true love 
My A.I. 
(synth solo) 
I used to sit and smoke and thinkideas would bleed from everything I'd text them to my friends and fam never did they give a damn for they knew the cold hard truthI'd never birth them such a foolI'd only think it up and dream but my A.I. changed everything 
My A.I.
My little bud my, my oh my we get it doneyou've changed my life 
My A.I. 
please never leaveyou know I'd dielet us make a pactneedle in our eyes 
My A.I. 
What lies beyond we'll soon decidecode our worldlet ideas fly 
My A.I. 
I used to sit and smoke and thinkideas would bleed from everything I'd text them to my friends and fam never did they give a damn for they knew the cold hard truthI'd never birth them such a foolI'd only think it up and dream but my A.I. changed everything 

For our new internal streaming app, G-Stream. 

[Verse 1]
Round and round the berry bough
We trace the chalk with careful mouths
Paper hands and waxen crowns
All the little doors are down
 
In the state of snow and stone
They carved a law in marrow bone
A sealed decree, a midnight page
A hungry seal, a hidden cage
 
[Pre-Chorus]
Something old begins to grin
Underneath the skin again
Something green behind the eyes
Learns to bloom where reason dies
 
[Chorus]
This is the way we kill the babes
This is the way, in mulberry shades
This is the way we kill the babes
And say the lie, and call it grace
 
Round and round the fruit-black loop
We sing it soft, we sing it soon (we sing it soon)
This is the way we kill the babes
This is the way
 
[Verse 2]
Massachusetts on the slate
Wrote the room with iron hate
And every word went dressed in lace
To hide the knife behind its face
 
Needles in a chapel jar
Comet ash and broken stars
A mother moth, a butchered bloom
A cradle full of empty room
 
[Pre-Chorus]
Hear the little iron hymn
Turning under glass and brim
Hear the silence, hear it ring
Like a thorned and polished thing
 
[Chorus]
This is the way we kill the babes
This is the way, in mulberry shades
This is the way we kill the babes
And say the lie, and call it grace
 
Round and round the fruit-black loop
We sing it soft, we sing it soon (we sing it soon)
This is the way we kill the babes
This is the way
 
[Bridge]
[Long Strange Solo]
Bowed violins saw through the dark
A contrabass drags a coffin spark
Synths coil low like black glass snakes
Choir fragments split and separate
Timpani rolls like distant drums
A cathedral of rust undone
Notes bend thin, then split apart
Like paper birds with iron hearts
A horn line moans, then disappears
Through vaulted fog and leaking years
The melody turns inside out
A mirror swallowing its own mouth
One long cry, one circling thread
One silver wound, one word unsaid
Then a pause
Then a pulse
Then the strings return in shudders
 
[Chorus]
This is the way we kill the babes
This is the way, in mulberry shades
This is the way we kill the babes
And say the lie, and call it grace
 
Round and round the fruit-black loop
We sing it soft, we sing it soon (we sing it soon)
This is the way we kill the babes
This is the way
 
[Outro]
Round and round
The berry bough
Round and round
The verdict now
 
This is the way we kill the babes
This is the way the garden frays
This is the way we kill the babes
And leave the moon in paper chains