Monday, February 28, 2011

Metal sonnet

Thundering down like a heavenly war,
These are the sounds that I have heard before.
All strings shaking with a mighty fury,
Long hair flying in a massive flurry.
Drum lines like atomic bombs in the night,
The lyrics that will steal away the day and light.
Bloody murder and terrible fighting,
Epic glory and heroic knighting.
Rocking and rolling harder than ever was dreamt,
We rock to show you just what we meant.
We don't care about what is hip or cool,
Watch me shred and you'll just shred and drool.
We eat pop stars for our bloody breakfast,
And we never plan just what will happen next.

Polizei Act four

The House was made of brick and mortar. It was very tuscan, very old world Italy. It was beautiful. And it made me proud that I had built it. These were the thoughts were rolling through my head as I slowly bled to death. My world was becoming more and more wobly by the nano-second and the most abstract things were rolling through my head. Maybe that's a trick of the brain, trying to retain the most amount of information, realize the most, and think the most abtract thoughts before it was shut down permanently. "C'mon buddy, you're gonna make it." We stumbled through the front door together like a pair of drunkards home front a late night out. "Gabby! Gabby, I need you down here now!" A slim read head was sprinting down the stairs, a small first aid kit it her hand. I was squinting at everything now, the twinkle in her eyes, the small crayon colored wagon my son had painted on the refridgerator. It was hard to keep my eyes open, my world was going dim. "AHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!" There was ripping pain in my chest as Gabby pulled all three rounds out of my torso. She carefully sewed each wound shut and sprinkled antiseptic over them. I was on fire. I couldn't feel anything except the pain in my chest. Somewhere in my mind, words swirled. "Are you okay?' I heard from a million miles away. The blackness finally took hold and I was gone.


To Be Continued.

Friday, February 25, 2011

Assonance

Tonight three thieves thwarted a plot,
What it was or would’ve been they knew not.
But killed or captured, they met their match,
Just as their trade and take and time, their lives were snatched.
But who is bad, brave, brazen or good?
Because this solemn, sorry story, told be it should.

...You're suppose to be dead...

My three people -

Jimi Hendrix - ask him about how he was inspired to make the music that he made. The ways that he changed the electric guitar and rock music. And ask him if he felt like h accomplished everything he wanted during his life.

(Dimebag) Darrell Abbot - ask him about how he felt about his murder, if he was happy with his life. About how he loved his bestfriend/commonlaw wife Rita. How he changed Heavy Metal, if he was angry at the man who murdered him.

Cliff Burton - I'd want to ask him how he felt about his death. How it physically felt when the tour bus rolled over on top of him. I'd want to ask how he felt about the music he'd created. I'd like to know how he felt about Metallica today, as opposed to when he was a member. I'd also love to shake his hand.

Thursday, February 24, 2011

New Surroundings...

My parents divorced in 2002, I was in fourth grade. By sixth grade she had found a man she was ready to move in with. I finished my 6th grade year and waved good bye to my friends and good bye to Rosemount. Though we only moved roughly 10 minutes away, it felt like a Brave New World too me. I didn't know anyone, or at least thought I didn't. But I remember how terrified I was walking through those door foor the first time and thinking...I was completely, utterly, and inescapably on my own. I felt like a leper repelling everything and everyone away from me. That probably was one of the most frightening days of my life. I felt the same way when I walked through Eastview's doors for the first time, but at least then I knew among all the unfamiliar faces there, that a few a recognized were lurking in the background.

Wednesday, February 23, 2011

Wordle 2

Wordle: Tyler's Metal

Wordle 1

Wordle: Untitled

Polizei (Act 3)

I was bleeding out in the passenger seat of Jeep. I could feel the life draining out of my veins as we flew through the storm at insane speed. I hoped this driver knew what he was doing because we were dead if we had to take a quick turn. “Hold on guy, we’re almost there. I can see the hospital from here.” He clamped down on the brakes and spun using the thick snow to drift around the corner. We blitzed down crowded, snow rivers that were once streets, now everything was incased in ice. I wasn’t driving, but I knew that momentum was the only thing propelling us forward. There wasn’t a cubit of traction under any of the four wheels. We were at Mother Nature’s mercy. Flying around another corner, the hospital came into view for me. And what I saw melted my heart. There was already a gurney and a team of paramedics; thank God we had called ahead. Locking up the brakes, we slid almost sideways up to the hospital techs, who didn’t even flinch as the two ton SUV ground to a halt. Nearly falling into the snow as they opened the door, I was hoisted onto the gurney, and pressure was applied to my gunshot wounds. Above my, I could see a beautiful young angel of a nurse with her slender fingers pressed into the holes on my chest trying to stop the bleeding and see where the bullets went. “You’re going to be fine. I promise.” I looked to my right to see the Jeep driver running with the nurses. “I’ve got your back.” The world suddenly faded to black, and I was gone.
To be continued…

Tuesday, February 22, 2011

Alliteration

Broken and bloody, in anger boiling,
Together, together, together we're toiling.
Bested and beasted we stand befallen,
Callous and careful - for the heavens are callin'.

Branded and bleeding, we are bespoken,
taken as prisoner, we work for token.
Befriend, and betrayed we are bent.
Lying and misleaded, wasted the time we were lent.

Song of the Day - Number 3

Gone Away - The Off Spring

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=numCZoBFcv4


Maybe in another life
I could find you there
Pulled away before your time
I can't deal it's so unfair

And it feels
And it feels like
Heaven's so far away
And it feels
Yeah it feels like
The world has grown cold
Now that you've gone away

Leaving flowers on your grave
Show that I still care
But black roses and Hail Mary's
Can't bring back what's taken from me
I reach to the sky
And call out your name
And if I could trade
I would

And it feels
And it feels like
Heaven's so far away
And it stings
Yeah it stings now
The world is so cold
Now that you've gone away

Back to the....

I remember being in the car with my dad. We were sitting in the drive through of McDonalds. This was ages ago, it might've even been before my parents got divorced. We were in his old Maroon Jeep Grand Cherokee. I remember I used to love that car because my old man used to floor it when the lights turned and the big 318 V8 under the hood would lift it up like a hot rod. But, I foun this black CD in the glove box and when I asked what it was, my dad put in the CD player. It was Metallica's self-titled CD, better known as the black album. And baby, when I heard that...wow! That was all I could think. I mean, at the time I was obsessed with Duran Duran, AC/DC, Bon Jovi, and The Offspring. But this! It was in a different league. I completely seperate hemisphere of awesome. It was full-on Thrash metal dismembering my ear dreams. Little wonder then that I now every one of Metallica's on my iPod. What an experience.

Friday, February 18, 2011

Gimme the Time of Day

October
Cold and gray
The color of fading snow, fading happiness
Cold, but not yet cold enough
Slush slinging by tires
the smell of cold air, and ice
Tastes like halloween candy
Glad to be older, glad to be done

Parts of Speech

The Gig
Vast in expansive
screaming and moshing
House of Rock

Polizei - Act Two

A man stumbles out into the cold night air. His hands are shaking from what just happened. He was covered with blood, his white T-shirt stained completely red. In his right hand was a small pistol, which steam rolled off of. His left hand was clenched tightly against his stomach, but thick rivers of blood still surged between the boney white fingers. "Sir, are you alright." He looked up at me and shouted something. "What?" I yelled back. "GET DOWN!" He was sprinting towards me at this point. "GET DOWN!" He said again. Almost as if in a trance, I slowly laid down on the snow-covered sidewalk. A moment later he was lying down next to me. "Why are we-" BOOOMMMM!!! The building he had come out of erupted in fire, it's brick facades rippling with the force of an expolsion that brought it crashing to the earth like a poorly built block house. "Help me up, we've gotta go." I grabbed the man gently aound the waist, brought him to a standing position and put his left arm around my neck. The few areas of open skin that I had now felt hot, and thick with the man's blood. "There he is, stop him!" I looked up in time to see three men with rifles get out of a car that had pulled up to the house shortly before it exploded. The man I was carrying slowly, almost nonchalantly raised his gun and fired three quick shots. The sound crashed against my ear drums like a sledgehammer, I was temporarily defeaned. A high pitched ringing ripped through my already damaged ears. "WHO ARE YOU!? WHY ARE YOU SHOOTING PEOPLE!?" He looked annoyed, but whether it was at me or his empty gun I didn't know. "I'm a police officer, I need to get to a hospital." His words were like whispers to my damaged ears. "My car is down the street, I'll drive you there. Just hold on." Down the street I laid him in the back of my Jeep and we sped off into the night.

To Be Continued...

Thursday, February 17, 2011

On My Mind (Issue 1)

It honestly blows me away, that a lot of people don't like Heavy Metal. It's the perfect mixture of all human emotion. It's complete, unadultered, uncontrolled, and unedited anger. Pure, golden happiness. Perfect, painful, agony. And horrid, blackened, depression. And that's only a brief overview. There is just so much passion, so much energy, so much pain, and so much beauty in Metal. It's lyrics cover everything from the most frightening stories, to the most well-versed Shakesperean literature. Everything from Hammer Smashed Face to For Whom the Bell Tolls. From Lack of Comprehension to Her Tears Don't Fall. I have been listening to metal for most of my life, most heavily in the last fou years, and there is not one single emotion that I have not been able to find Metal song. And important topics endlessly abound. Death, Loss, Mounring, Problems in Society, War, Oppression, Depression, Suicide, Homicide, Genocide, Love, Romance, Passion, Romantic tragedy, pain, suffering, happiness, good living - every one of these is in a metal song that is somewhere on my iPod. Maybe that does sound like more depressing topics than uplifting ones, but it's not the lyrics that do what metal does to me. It's the whole sound. Thundering, thrashing, machine-gun like guitars, pummeling bass lines, Carpet-bombing drum lines, and vocals - whether they be sung, shouted, screamed or growled - are some of the best no matter what you put them up against. That's what metal is. Not a group a long haired sadists, who play loud guitars and act stupid because we get high everyday as society would like to portray us - but as some of the best muscians in the world.

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

Metal
Shouting Hatred
Guitars screaming in pain
Lyrics of a dying angel
Living

Polizei - Act One

I wake up and try to take a deep breath, but the deeper the breath the more severe the pain. The ground is hard beneath my back, and I feel a dull pain in my arm. As I slowly turn my aching neck, I see the pool of blood eminating from the left side of torso. Two neat, parrallel scars criss-crossed my arm. Three holes shone like rubies against my white shirt. My head was pounding, it felt like I had been cold clocked across the back of the head. I prayed it wasn't a concussion - not that it mattered since I had already been shot three times. There was an empty pistol about two inches from the tips of my fingers. Finally I mustered enough strength to get to my feet. My whole body felt like it was on fire. Scared, and dying of pain I scooped up the pistol. There was an extra magazine for it in my pocket, which I loaded it with. This night wasn't over with yet.

Tuesday, February 15, 2011

Metaphorically Speaking...

Life for me has been no well-paved road,
it's been like a cobbelstone street,
Pot-holed and cracked,
covered in nails and broken glass.
It's had me broken,
it's caved me in,
it's brought me to tears,
and left me for dead,
but I still travel it.
Right now it's smooth,
but still not easy,
Still I'm riding,
and riding hard.

Smile they're smilies

Guitars for me is like a gift,
when California earth quakes sound like my riffs.
The old amplifier, pounds as thunder,
the brutal attack, pushing me under.
All of this, and I'm as happy as a lark.

Friend, Brother

Best friend, I don't think that word has a real meaning to me anymore. All of my friends are my best friends basically. I guess what a normal person would call a best friend, I would call a brother. Justin, TJ, Payten, Heather, Jade, Kira, Mitch; these are the guys whom you'd probably call my 'best friends'. I would call them my Brothers and Sisters. Because best friend is still only a friend. A brother or sister is a member of your family - that tie can't be severed. Just look at Denis and I. One exchange of words and I finally lost my temper. He got kicked out of my house because he couldn't keep his filthy mouth shut and was too much of a coward afterwards to continue being my friend. Friends come and go - but my brothers stay eternal. So yes, none of the aforementioned people are actual blood relatives, but I'll damned if they don't seem like. Save for that pathetic snake Denis. I'm not by any means perfect, and somedays it doesn't seem like I'm even a good person - but I know this, and this is my advice to anyone who reads this. If you have a friend you have to 'deal with', 'live with', or 'put up with' - they are not your friends. Denis was a user, I'm guessing if you feel this way about any of your friends then THEY ARE NOT YOUR FRIENDS. Everyone - even if you think you are worhtless - deserves friends that ARE FRIENDS.

Peace Out.

Monday, February 14, 2011

Seasons in the Abyss

Out of the darkness we came dangerously into the light. No trumpetswere sounded as well leapt from the night and into the day. Our crafty genius was sure to steal our pain away. We heard their tires squealing as a few went a stray. The screams of their agony do not subside, even as in flames they died. Left unburied and in burning sun they rot, know their flesh reeks as the bodies decay.

Thursday, February 10, 2011

And so we change...

Keys
Begin
The
Whisper

Symbols
Dance
Like
Ballerinas

Decibels
Come
Crashing
Down

Guitars
Scream
Growl
Deeply

Basses
Pound
Like
Fury

Vocals
Soar
As
Angels

Bucket List

1. Own a Gibson
2. Meet James Hetfield
3. Record an Album
4. Own a Ferrari or Lamborghini
5. Re-build a muscle car
6. Get married
7. Have kids
8. Design and Build a guitar (ground up)
9. Be a good father
10. Fight for something

Wednesday, February 9, 2011

GWAR Limmerick

There once was a band named Gwar,
who pounded on their guitars.
They played some goods riffs,
and called it a gift,
and now they've gone quite far.

Ode

Metal oh Metal, you make me feel fine,
your beautiful riffing seems to me divine.
Crushing and deadly, tour de force,
heavy with thunder, like the god's of Norse.
Distortion is my master,
and Delay is my slave.
This is never-after,
what will proudly be my grave.
The Legacy I wish to leave,
will be one that you can hear.
I don't wish much to be seen,
but to give you bleeding ears.

A Day in th Life...10 years from now

My tired eyes snapped open as a high pitched group of notes flew out of the speakers of my alarm clock. It was the opening bars to Buckethead's King James. With a harsh slap, I turned the noise off and slowly rubbed the sleep out of my eyes. Grudingly I swung my legs out from under the covers and stood up, nearly tripping over a Stratocaster that Justin had left leaning against my bed. Walking down the hall I could see Denis in the mixing room with a pair of massive head phones strapped firmly against his ears, and a Kramer Vanguard sitting pretty on his knees. There was a silent, percussive riff flowing from the strings as I moved passed, trying not to distract him. In the kitchen, Payten was asleep on the couch. I swiped a coke from the fridge and sat down next to him. "Mornin' bandmate."  He smiled and went back to sleep.

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

I get knocked down...

So, this is the funniest/most embarassing memory I can think of...

It was easter quite a few years ago, I don't remember the date, but I think it was before 2000. I was riding my bike in my grandma's cul-da-sac not really paying attention. At one point I was talking to the girl I was riding with and didn't look where I was going. All in a flash, I crashed into a mail box and was thrown clean over the handle bars and onto a freshly mowed lawn. I was almost screaming for a moment because I was sure that I had to have hurt myself. But after realizing I was fine, I stood back up laughing, got back on my bike and rode to my grandma's with the girl to tell her about what happened. I'm still glad I didn't break my neck or something crazy like that.

Monday, February 7, 2011

Auto-Bio

Tyler
Creative, Musical, Curious, Kind
Son of Jeff, Brother of Kelsey
Joy whilst holding a guitar
Who needs friends to help along the way
Who gives music and a helping hand
Who fears losing everything he has
Who would like to see a thousand people listening to him
Inhabitant of Apple Valley and Lakeville
Arndt

35 South Haiku

Blinding white the storm

Tires slip on frozen glass

Losing control

D-Day Haiku

Twisted painful grief

The sand and sea collide

Stained with blood of men

The Lion and the Lamb

Looking up, a lion leaps from the roof of a store onto the petrified zebra. Slashing wildly with its claws, the Zebra is cut but runs. It streams past me, hair flying gracefully through the wind, blood staining its white-black fur. The lion chases, but for only a moment; turning its attention to me instead. Like the Zebra I am frozen with fear. I can feel it creeping across the receptors in my brain, firing madly to try and move me, but my bones were still. With another earth-shaking roar, it lifted a small car and hurled it at me. The cement came up to meet me as I dove for the ground, the automobile whizzing only inches above my head. I looked up to see a rifle lying on the ground before me. I lunged, arms extended beyond their reach in an effort to grab the handle. With the weapon firmly between my fingers, I rolled to my feet. Through the sights, the Lion was only but a few feet from me. Again he roared and swung one of his heavy, claw laden paws. The rifle thundered a thousand times greater than the roar of the lion and I woke with a shower of cold sweat streaming down my body.

Friday, February 4, 2011

Justin

Justin, I want to take the time right now to thank you for everything you’ve down for me. You’ve been there for me, whether I needed you or not, for four years now. I don’t have many found memories anymore, that you are not a part of. I truly mean that too. You’ve put up with all the BS, carried me through so much, and have exhibited the patience that almost no other friend has. You have understood all the strange monologues, accepted all the strict rules, and most of all, you’ve down this without complaint, without falter. I think you are truly, one of the best friends I have ever been blessed with. You understand me. You understand why I ask for the things I do. You understand. And I’m grateful that you understand. Thank you Justin, for being my friend.

Thursday, February 3, 2011

May I see, a memory

-Parents Divorce
-Discovering AC/DC
-Learning to Play Guitar
-Meeting Justin
-Discovering Metal
-Breaking up with Katie Miller
-Meeting Heather
-Mother Re-married
-Writing my first legitmate song
-Meeting Denis
-Getting a 'band' together
-Falling out with Denis
-Dating Alicia
-Coming back with Denis


To Be Continued....

Wickedly Beautiful

Las Vegas is one of the most amazing places in the world. Not because of how lush it is, or because of how the people survive there, or what you’d usual think about a place that is called amazing. It is amazing because it captures the best and worst of human nature in one vast area.
Flying in, you see nothing but a massively desert, huge mountains screaming up from nothing – and in the middle of it all sits this gleaming oasis of man-made ingenuity. But when you get there…everything feels so…fake. It’s all great facades and dancing girls and fast cars. It’s all so comically superficial. Looking back on it, I feel almost sick thinking that I was even there. It made me feel like I was dirty, or just unclean in some weirdly religious kind of way. I would go again, but it still wouldn’t feel right. You get a sense that no one is who they say, and everything is built only too mask truth. And the truth is; it’s not a nice place.

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

Teach Me, Teach Me (Creative Writing - What I'd like to Learn)

In this Creative Writing class, I wanna learn how to hone my writing skills. I want to take those random bursts of creativity into a steady, ever-present stream of thoughts. I don't want to be able to write only in small clips, I want to be able to write whenever I want to. Not just when my heart decides to.

Design and Conquer

For my Physics class, we are building musical instruments. Obviously being a guitarist, that's what I'm going to build. I've found a Squier strat in 1,000 pieces on Craigslist and I plan on re-assmbling, re-wiring, and personalizing it. For a design I'm thinking about doing a plain-wood body, black pick guard, white accents, with a black, simple version of the JK clothing logo (following the guitarist of Sonic Syndicate a bit). If you have any ideas on how I can make this any better, shoot me them.