Top 16 Original Songs

Originals (In their entirety)

These are songs, for the most part written in the '70s and '80s, and re-recorded in the ConeflowerBasementBand studios. 

Original Songs

For Pauline

Would-be sound tracks if only there were movies accompanying them.  Cannonade is the full tally of original instrumentals from 2006 to 2019.

Cannonade

D-Day And Beyond - 2014 - 2017

It was the eve of August 9th, in the year 2013.
The air was hanging heavy and the sky was lookin' mean
The clouds began a-swirlin like the smoke from God's cigar
And the windows of the heavens opened up on Waldo scar

A year before a wildfire raged and scoured the canyon clean
And weather folks warned Manitou of a dire and desperate scene
Up til that time there'd been flash floods that washed away some cars
But nothing like the eve of August 9th on Waldo's scar.

An inch or two of rain poured down on Colorado Springs
And up Ute Pass it roared like 50,000 eagles wings
When suddenly down Williams Canyon all the rain that fell
Came a raging flood and a wall of mud that could only come from hell. 

And poor John Collins, I only heard his name next day
As the papers told the tale
Of the only man not to escape 
The canyon's deadly swale.

The comments said John Collin was the kindest man they knew
And the picture of him looked like he belonged in Manitou
His home was up in Teller where the forests clearly show
The devastation from the Hayman fire eleven years ago.

He made his living in cement, but gardens were his art
At Christmas he was Santa for the kids in Woodland Park
They said he was a teddy bear who was known to volunteer.
But August 9th he first became the worst of everybody's fears.

The canyon flood and the wall of mud took homes and stores and cars
And Manitou she took the wrath of Waldo Canyon's scars
Five thousand lives were changed that day, the town they swore to mend
But only poor John Collins was to meet his fated end.

And poor John Collins, I only heard his name next day
As the papers told the tale
Of the only man not to escape
The canyon's deadly swale. 

The townsfolk and the cityfolk with shovels all in hand
Arrived next day in droves to sweep the mud off from the land
Brave Manitou and all her crew would not be taken down
From the deluge and the wall of mud that threatened to her drown. 

The cars were lined for miles backed up along Rt. 24
With shovels first and drinks for thirst the workers they did pour
They bent their back and gave their sweat and when the day was through
The spir't of life returned anew to the town of Manitou.

The restaurants and music shops, the churches and boutiques
Will open soon and the town will boom within the coming weeks
Life will return to normal to the town of Manitou.
And the name of poor John Collins will be known to but a few.

And poor John Collins, I only heard his name next day
As the papers told the tale
Of the only man to perish in
The canyon's deadly swale.

Poor John Collins (The Ballad Of The Manitou Springs Floods of 2013)

Take care, my love
Sleep well, my honey
May all your cares be soothed
 by the bright Skagit moon.

Rest on, my love
May tomorrow be sunny
May our wait in time grow small
Til we be together soon.

I miss your arms
I find it so funny
That we grew so far apart
When we lived in the same home.

I wouldn't trade our life
For love, or for money
I would take you for my wife
And no longer would we roam. 

Take care, my love
Sleep well, my honey
May all your cares be soothed
by the bright Skagit moon.

Rest on, my love
May tomorrow be sunny
May our wait in time grow small
Til we be together soon.

Take Care My Love

20 days we'll meet at the airport
20 days this all will end
20 days we'll wait no longer
20 days I'll hold you again.
          
When you took off for the Cascade foothills
I've never felt so all alone
I'll say goodbye to the Rocky Mountains
If the Skagit Valley's to be our home.

20 days we'll kiss like lovers
20 days we'll talk like friends
20 days we'll laugh like children
20 days we'll be together again.
        
We'll hold so tight.
We'll make it right.
We'll kiss goodnight.
Our hearts will ignite

20 days our waiting is over.
20 days I'll see your face.
And then we'll talk about our future
And the pain of yesterday will erase. 

Twenty Days

It was June, and after the winter that refused to quit, we suddenly found ourselves in pre-summer triple digit heat again. What little escaped the sub-zero freezes and blizzards of April was blighted in drought and heat. Suddenly, like the return of a bad penny, an all-to-familiar plume of grayish-black smoke rose to once again diffuse in the air that chest-stinging smell Coloradans know so well. "O Lord, send rain!", the voices raised to Heaven. The drought had reached stage 4, and the city council bickered over whether to restrict watering California-style lawns that shouldn't even be here to either two or three days a week. Suddenly, on June 28th, the rains came. And July rolled in and the welcome southwestern monsoon with it. And the vegetation flourished, and the lawns brightened, and the local utilities breathed a sigh of relief. And August arrived and the rains still came. And came. And came. Until on August 9th, having dodged the bullet the better part of the summer, the rain became sinister, and the burn scars began to hunker down to the serious business of making good on their threats to punish the people who mistreated their forests. And the rains still came, and boulders and mud with them, and suddenly, people died, multiplied millions of dollars in damage to small businesses were lost to the flood caused by the flames. And the rain came, and came, and the monsoon lingered until early September, when she began her annual ebb south and west, and the dry heat returned to the Colorado front range. And the triple-digit heat of June returned again. And the monsoon looked back, and was not pleased...and decided to vanquish the summer heat once and for all, and with it every man whose home and fortunes lay in the mouth of the canyons. And still the rains came...only this time they mustered all the ferocity of an east coast hurricane. For seven days it rained, some rainfall amounts exceeding 20". Thousands, no tens of thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands of lives were upended, some were lost. The rain had won at last. When I saw the torrent that fell in eastern Colorado on Sunday, this was all I could do. And the rains still came.


And Still The Rains Came

Weekend almost over, a couple more workdays, then zoom!  Jeff boards the big white bird to SeaTac, and his honey's arms.

Happy 'Cause We'll Be Together

Big bird, will you carry me to the west?
Big bird, does your flight mean leaving your nest?
Through the days now gone, living all alone
Did you wait those days to fly me away?
Big bird, fly away!

Big bird, will you take me now to my love?
Big bird, are you mighty eagle or gentle dove?
Will you fly once more to the ocean shore?
Will you take me there to her arms again?
Big bird, fly away!

Big bird, across the open skies
Every where she flies are Rocky Mountain highs.

Big bird, cross the 45, only to arrive ever more alive.

Big bird, over La-wa-la-clough
Over Tahoma and the Grand Pahto
Big bird, fly away!

Big bird, will you leave us there in embrace?
Big bird, while ever homeward you race?
Will you return and strain?
Toward the fruited plain
And leave us to remain
To become whole again?
Big bird, fly away! 


Big Bird

Too many songs claim, "True Love Will Never Die"...not so. There is a treachery that will murder the truest of loves.  By the power of God, true love may be resurrected from death, but it is not true that true love can never die.  Sometimes, dying is exactly what the Doctor ordered. 

The Night Love Died

When once is all revealed, no secrets concealed, on the road to being healed...the dance of death is replaced by The Recovery Waltz.  Blessed is the man who dances with his Bride in plain sight of the Lord of the Dance. 

Recovery Waltz

And Even Still The Rains Came

How deep the pain of love despised
How treacherous its treason
That I such madness have devised
Deceit beyond all reason

How deep the loss I now endure
How sorrowful and grieving
When thou had giv'n devotion pure
And I the while deceiving

My tears and sorrow'll ne'er regain
The trust that I did forfeit
When I my folly didn'st restrain
How was this for my profit?

Thy love for me I have destroyed
I cannot find me comfort
Inside my heart the awful void
Of sin that reigned triumphant

My sin, no Judas hath conspired
A treachery more heinous.
No hellish demon could have sired
A perfidy more ruinous.

And now I wail and mourn my loss
Of thy sweet love so blessed
Its precious gold now turned to dross
Its tender arms repressed

How deeper shall this sorrow grow
How bottomless this sentence
What depths of sorrow must I know
What tears of deep repentance

My daily bread, my deep despair
Results from sin's dark leaven
My only hope of love's repair
Can only come from Heaven.



Poem

Step 1 - We admitted we were powerless over our addiction - that our lives had become unmanageable  
Step 2 - Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity  
Step 3 - Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood God  
Step 4 - Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves  
Step 5 - Admitted to God, to ourselves and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs  
Step 6 - Were entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character  
Step 7 - Humbly asked God to remove our shortcomings  
Step 8 - Made a list of all persons we had harmed, and became willing to make amends to them all  
Step 9 - Made direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others  
Step 10 - Continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong promptly admitted it  
Step 11 - Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God as we understood God, praying only for knowledge of God's will for us and the power to carry that out  
Step 12 - Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to other addicts, and to practice these principles in all our affairs  

12 Step Bolero

The first worship song I've written in over 30 years.  

Praise Belongs To You

Recovery from addictions, whatever they be, require one in Heaven and two on Earth  To truly win the race, one must turn one's will and life over to the care of God.  That being done, God turns the race over to one coach at the starting gate, and one at the finish line.  It is vital to start right and finish well, and for that we must have one ever urging us away from whence we came, and the other reminding us of what awaits at the finish line. Though they be repeated over the course of hundreds and hundreds of miles, there are but 12 steps to this race,  and they must be dispatched in full measure, for the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong.  It is the mind made intentional by the will turned over to the care of God that will finish in the end.  Thanks to Matt and Ken for their place in the marathon of recovery, and for my beautiful Pauline, who is the wind beneath my feet.  This is written for you all.

The Sponsor And His Sponsee

A little Rock-a-Bildad the Shuhite based on the Biblical story of Job. 

My Servant Job

Different from my usual...borne out of a serious sadness. 

Oh! I Don't Know!

"Words are all I have, to take your heart away"...until you find yourself caught in...The Blackout. 

The Blackout

Russell's Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day‎

How I Love You, Pauline

Five decades ago, a British group called "The Hollies" did a song entitled "He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother".  The song extolled the virtues of one carrying his brother when he could no longer carry himself.  That song has taken on so much more meaning since my own brother has become all but incapacitated.  This piece is not to lament my lot to now carry him, but to lament my own weakness and powerlessness in the face of his great need.

My Servant Job

Coneflower Basement Band