D-Day And Beyond - 2014 - 2017

Thinking that my garden was as disheveled as a Grateful Dead jam, I suddenly felt the urge to break into one.  Reminds me of Saturday night at Headwind House.  

Country Garden Jam

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)

Cover - The Animals - House Of The Rising Sun

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

Melodia Per Una Notte Triste

We Choose The Fear Of The Lord - Cover - Maranatha Singers

Bryce 2010

Written in 1976 upon the occasion of being called an anti-semite because I did not subscribe to the prevailing Christian dispensational eschatology concerning the nation of Israel. Yeah, I know...a lot of big theological words.  

Poem

Coneflower Basement Band

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