IT AIN'T ALWAYS RIGHT

The jury is out
The judge is in his chamber
Dammit, I think they're gonna blame her
She was just splitting hairs with a battle axe
Didn't wanna pay her income tax
She was seein' red
When she struck the Irs man dead
Doused his corpse with gasoline
Lit a match with a jubilant scream
She was a little bit crazy, a little bit mean
Should'a made him disappear and got away clean

This won't take long
unless the jury is hung
and the moon made of cheese
It can't be that tricky
This case ain't that sticky
Just ask the police

What's it gonna be
Lock her up or set her free
String her up in the nearest tree
or gas her in the chair and double the indignity
Norman the forman is ready to declare
If it's curtains, or agony and tears
Forget about fashion stripes it this year
Gettin' in is easy, gettin' out's a bitch I hear

So the verdict was read
and this is what he said
She's not guilty not at all
Against the system she stood tall
What she did was justified
This was not a homicide
The courtroom erupted in cheers
Everybody toasted with champagne and beer

The judge banged his gavel
as decorum unravelled
and the court reporters
were fighting with the coke snorters
Panic began to spread
From the scene the jury fled
The benches they cleared
No one was spared

The poor attorneys
was rolled out on gurneys
away from the battlefield
What they were doing ?
thinking of suing
Just as soon as they'd heal

Ambivalence is how I feel
For now at last I must reveal
Perhaps it's best if she got life
Because this woman is my wife
And one day she may decide
She'd love me more if I died
And if the taxman cometh back
She'd give him too a mighty wack
To sum it up I have to say
I won't be going home today

TRAPPED IN A MIME

This is obviously a play on words. About two people who get together because they are basically outcasts in society. They are drawn to each other due to the common bond of being dealt a blow by forces beyond their control. I suppose this is sort of minimalist writing as the language is pretty straight forward with the emphasis on the story rather than attempting to be overly flowery prose wise.

I cannot talk
I am trapped in a mime
I have to make gestures
all of the time

No one comprehends
what I try to convey
Though it's quite transparent
what I am trying to say

Mom cut out my tongue
when I was only three
Put it in a jar
to keep it mocking me

She said children should
be seen, but never heard
And I never, ever
spoke a single word

People seem to think
I like to entertain
That I should feel much joy
yet I only feel disdain

They point and smile
as if what I do
is somehow important
if they only knew

One afternoon I saw her
watching from afar
Hair like a raven,
on her face a long white scar

Almost like a border
between her opal eyes
The separation of truth
from the shallow lies

She came around to watch me
every solitary day
I became most fond
of her loyal display

From my imagination
adventures I would conjure
Devoting my performance
only to her

The clouds layed heavy
pregnant with rain
Lightning flashing,
but still she came

The sweet wide grin
upon my longing face
No stormy weather
could hope to erase

Our clothes dripping
our bodies cold
I invited her home
I was feeling bold

I knew she had
a story to tell
I would proclaim with certainty
she would tell it well

Her mother tried to drown her
at the tender age of five
Playing possum staying still
was how she survived

A preacher tried to rape her
when she was merely ten
She slit his throat with a switchblade knife
so he'd never be tempted again

Once her father found her
working for a pimp
Tracked him down to a seedy motel
and tore him limb from limb

When she was close to eighteen
mom wants to finish the job
Hired her a hitman
a crackhead named Bob

Stoned to the rafters
wielding a fourty four
Shot himself in the foot
and fell to the floor

He was found in the morning
mostly dead to right
Her father took a baseball bat
and out goes the lights

He was buried in the garden
beneath the apple tree
With all the other bad assassins
he got good company

Her vindictive mother
no longer pose a threat
A discretely severed brake line
another most convenient death

She asked not for forgiveness
nor judgement of her tale
The catharsis of her revelations
expunged the suffocating veil

She saw in me an equal
one that would understand
Sometimes we make choices
because life forces our hands

She wondered about my silence
and shuddered when she knew
The reason why I never speak
why I must do the things I do

One mellow August morning
we closed the curtains to the past
and knitted close together
to forget the memories dark shadows cast

THE THING ABOUT HOLES

I started this one, but like many things I start I never finish. Usually due to lack of inspiration or I don't feel it's going anywhere. Here's a case where I thought in retrospect that it could end where I gave up on it. One note, I am using the European term for a cell phone.


There's a hole in the ground where I'm standing
Oh crap, I must be falling
better be calling
someone on my mobile phone
Isn't anybody home ?
HELLO...Damn, no reception
can't make a connection
As far as I can tell
I'm going straight to hell
I wish I had a parachute

THE BUTCHERS BOY

Here's a tale about a young individual who takes some traumatic events and turns it into something positive. In fact he is quite the entrepreneur. I do love a success story.


Did you hear about the butchers boy
so good with a cleaver
Chopped up his mother
Because she wouldn't let him leave her

Kept her head in a box
and the rest in the freezer
If he's feeling peckish
he might even eat her

Did you hear about the butchers boy
so good with a knife
When daddy came home from work
he took his unsuspecting life

What a mess he made
Blood in every nook and cranny
But he cleaned it with some bleach
before calling up his granny

Did you hear about the butchers boy
so good with his hands
Cooked his sister a gourmet meal
fresh meat in the frying pan

Sweet and tender it falls off the bone
quite an exquisite flavor
Taste like chicken a family recipe
it lingers long enough to savor

Did you hear about the bucthers boy
He bought a greasy spoon
Business is killing
and it's not even noon

He is making his way
through the family tree
But once the blood ties run dry
he'll start on you and me

THE BUTTERFLY COLLECTOR

The butterfly collector
a net clutched in his hand
Is poised and quite determined
to catch all he can

He wants to capture beauty
the colors and intrigue
To walk beyond endurance
impervious to fatigue

When speciments of wonder
enthrall his keen eyed view
Emerge the seasoned hunter
to quietly persue

The wonderous butterfly
so carefree and naive
Unawere of what awaits
the tricks that fate will weave

Something sweet mysterious
flutters past the pine
He's come upon a forest
lucious and devine

Hurriedly he follows
dogged on the trail
Chasing down the glory
a new speciment entail

Day slips into dusk
nipping at the night
Yet he keeps the prize
clearly in his sight

A carnival of treasures
a bounty for the bold
Summon the spirit enduring
persistance reaping gold

Errant leaves sulk in silence
abandoned by the wind
Castaways of courage
crumbling from within

In vibrant splendor
it rests upon a glade
Wings flapping softly
to enticingly persuade

The butterfly collector
circles his prey
With a rush of excitement
when the game is in play

Closer and closer
so light on his toes
Adrenalines nectar
paints sweat on his brow

With imperceptible motion
he lowers his net
Unsuspecting he remains
that a trap has been set

Now beauty resides in
a prison made of glass
Lonely looking out
at the green, green grass

At first a humble trickle
At first only a few
Then the savage skies erupt
winged assassins pour into view

They all descend upon him
a foul and vengeful storm
They gag, choke and control him
a puppet to the swarm

Blind he's rendered helpless
breath close like a noose
It's too late to surrender
It's too late for a truce

His feet no longer touching
the ground once safe and sound
He soars above the treetops
too frightened to look down

As the sunset burns behind him
through the vacant night they fly
Past the mangled moon
with haste across the sky

Curious is the fascination
with life's ebb and flow
How, where, when, why
do we really want to know

A church is cast in shadows
built with blessed stone
It leans against tomorrow
those who come never feel alone

The butterfly solution
Don't turn the other cheek
Do unto others
vengeance is what they seek

The butterfly collector
tumbles from the sky
There's no devine intervention
when it's your time to die

They found him in the morning
the spire trough his head
Pinned as if by a needle
in the display case of the dead

WE MET BRIEFLY ON THE ASTRAL PLANE

This is what happens when you meet someone and you both are dead. Trust me that really complicates matters. Dating is obviously not easy when none of you need to eat. When one is granted a new life, and the other not, man what are one to do. I am sure many has wondered about that and wonder no more for here is the answer.

We met briefly on the astral plane
under combustible clouds and sorrowful rain
Her eyes were blue with a hint of green
her soul were held in high esteem
She was going up I was going down
Oh how I'd love to stick around
Just yesterday I had it all
living large yes living tall
When fate came crashing through my door
a 57 Buick knocked me to the floor
My head lodged in the shattered grille
for all I know it's in there still
So here I am awaiting trial
where indiscretions are kept on file
Records read and scrutinized
They even tabulate your every lie
It's too late to feign regrets
They'll deem you guilty if you sweat
The judge and jury faces grim
I dear say my chances dim
They have reviewed the lives I've led
and determined I should stay dead
There's no redemtion in my heart
me and life should stay apart
Where I am I should remain
forever wait on the astral plane,
but hang on I have a plan
I am in love you understand
The girl I met under troubled skies
just reborn I hear her cries
How sweetly she calls to me
Where she is I need to be
Seeds of subterfuge takes hold
find a child merge my soul
Must be clever not be seen
They'll stop me cold crush my dream
A birth in progress I'll catch a ride
I just brush this soul aside
Take his place and live again
Through the tunnel around the bend
A skip and a jump I'm back in the world
Oh dear me I've been born a girl
Seems in my rush I neglected to see
that my Bobby Brown was Linda Lee
Now I'm off to search and hope like hell
that my chosen bride likes girls as well

GOING OUT OF BUSINESS

What if the planet we live on was sold and someone else tried to run it, would it make a difference ? Here's the answer. I tried to write this as straight forward as possible. Not much in the way of flowery poetry here. I've tried to juxtapose serious issues with irreverence. ( at least I hope that's what I accomplished ) You will notice a shift in style halfway through this poem, not sure how that happened, but I do that sometimes.

I bought the planet earth today
it was going pretty cheap
Broken down and boarded up
ready for the scrap heap
I bought it from a dude named Bob
He had a long white beard
Shook my hand and wished me luck
as he brushed away a tear

He said:
" I thought it was a grand idea
the project I began
It seems that I forgot about
the independency of man
I gave them all a place to roam
a will to call their own
Now the world has been infected
with evil overgrown "

" No one believes in miracles
they've turned their back on me
So I depart, abandon hope
There's nothing left to see "
Then Bob takes pen to paper
and signs the sacred deed
" Now it is your problem son
you deal with their wanton needs "

He stands there for a moment
looks me in the eyes
" One last thing I have to say
Goodbye sweet earth, goodbye

He hops a cloud and blows away
across the skies as bright as day
I send my crew down to inspect
to measure mankinds interlect
Can I save their tarnished souls,
thaw the hearts long since cold
Can redemption still be found
buried under hallowed ground ?

But when I read those grim reports
I know to what I must resort
Since people feast on strife and war
I'll give them what they most adore
Armageddon beyond compare
annihilation everywhere
Set their spirits free at last
Demolition, what a blast

Everything will revert
to when everything was dust and dirt
Don't blame me, it's not my call
The path you chose caused your fall
Now silence sleeps on this earth
We begin anew, a new rebirth
I have great plans I start from scratch
With a man and a woman a perfect match

I won't interfere, hush be still
It's going to work this time I know it will
I gave them a paradise a great view of the sea,
but what is that snake doing in the apple tree ?

KILL ME BEFORE I DIE

This I count as a failed experiment. I was trying to write a poem that doesn't rhyme. Since it's the only one, ever you can tell I did not take to that idea. I thought it would free me up, but instead I felt restricted in what I wanted to say. Not very happy with it, as I don't think I delved deep enough into this subject matter. The title is something I had laying around for ages. Never knew what it meant. Truth be told it's probably my favorite title. One day if finally occured to me what it should be about. It's a struggle between a husband and wife. He is dying of cancer and wants her to kill him to put him out of his misery. She on the other hand refuses because she loves him and wants him around as long as possible. The poem is supposed to be an conversation they have, arguing for different view points. I like the idea, I just think I failed miserably in the execution. Well, you be the judge.

HIM:
Adrift in a sea of pain
afloat in a mist of tears
Ever so slowly I fade away
I am dying my love
Death is taunting me
prolonging the agony
Relish in my suffering
refusing relief
Kill me before I die

HER:
I look at you
with such helpless eyes
I know what you've become
a remnant of what you once were
Such a greyish pale I've never seen
Repelling any glimmer of life,
but what is left
is better than the barren loss of love

HIM:
I am so cold
with winter in my veins
Every drop of me meliting away
Dripping like an icicle
There's fury within me
as I question your choice
If you love me still
cast aside these doubts
and kill me before I die

HER:
How can I grant your wish
and rob me of you
A selfish act I do admit
clinging to the past
When your misery ends
mine will begin
I just want you here a little longer
I just want to hold on to forever for awhile

SORROWS TRAIL

This was written for someone I once knew. Her mother died and I sent her this poem. This could be about anyone though. I hope I have captured the sentiments for someone going through the grief process.

Now I walk alone down sorrows trail
while the humble hue of hollowness prevail
Futility embraced and cast upon my weary soul
one half removed from what once made me whole

I'd much rather sink than swim the rivers of dismay
immersed in thoughts that blur and swiftly drifts away
I caress regrets for words still left behind
withheld within my heart like dust upon my mind

Awake beneath my slumber enduring stagnant sleep
sweet solace eludes me into mourning I weep
A ravaged existence bleak in it's dismal stare
consumed by the persistence of imprisoned tears

Now a refugee of memories all but ripples remain
I'm foreclosing the temples of torment while restoring my desolate plains
Too late for forever, still a brief and cherished past
abandon it I will never, til death it's gleam will last

THE KISS THAT TIME FORGOT

There once was a kiss
far away long ago
For centuries it lasted
two lips that couldn't let go

There once was a kiss
as pure as the rain
Two lips huddled together
like clasps on a chain

There once was a kiss
to the brim it was filled
With the power of passion
and wonderous thrills

There once was a kiss
that shook the whole world
Between a dashing young prince
and a sweet peasant girl

There once was a kiss
and a scandal ensued
For a dashing young prince
whose life came unglued

There once was a kiss
with a price set so high
To save a young prince
a girl had to die

There once was a kiss
abandoned in shame
Tossed in a grave
and stripped of it's name

There once was kiss
that time soon forgot
and an innocent girl
whose love turned to rot

There once was a kiss
so sacred and dear
It should have lasted forever
to be revered

There once was a kiss
now covered with dust
a blood soaked betrayal
a farwell to trust

There once was a kiss
it matters no more
It's lingerings pale
it remains unrestored

INNOCENCE IS NO EXCUSE Part 10 LIPSERVICE MERCHANTS

This is last lyric I wrote about Ted and his tribulations. While the previous posts were penned much closer to the actual events, the last one was done quite recently. Over the years it became harder to find something new to say about the case. My hope is to write one more dealing with his exoneration and subsequent release, but only time will tell if I ever have the chance. A good title would be Freedom. A final tidbit bares mentioning. Not long after the murder Teds mother died. His sister inherited her home from her siblings. For almost a year Ted would work until 5 pm, go home for a quick supper and come over to renovate his childhood home. Working most days until 9 - 10 pm. On weekends he would work all day. That's the Ted I know, not the killer he was portrayed by those who jumped through hoops to come to the wrong conclusions.
Lipservice Merchants is about those who promised to stand by his side when the going got tough, then fell by the wayside as time slipped by. The moral of this tale is this. Should you ever find yourself in close proximity of a crime, and if you know the person involved. When police calls you in for a informal talk. No matter how innocent you are, bring a lawyer. Under the right circumstances you will be the one in the spotlight. One of those unwritten rules are, if you ask for an attorney you must be guilty. Well, mark my words and remember Ted. Next time it could be you.

Where are they now
my comrades my friends
Who promised to fight
with me til the end
Who stood by my side
so cocky and sure
Said, we got your back
and walked out the door

Damn all the lipservice merchants
applying the trade of deceit
Who threw down your weapons, raised the white flag
and surrendered yourself to defeat

Damn all the lipservice merchants
selling me fools gold
Not staying the course for the cause anymore
leaving me out in the cold

Where have you gone
where do you hide
away from the fact
that all of you lied
What I have left
are mountains of time
To think and reflect
the guilt is on your dime

Who can I trust
does anyone care
Who still remembers
I'm rotting in here
Existence is futile
if hope's lead astray
Words fuels my courage
and ease my dismay

I shout from the pulpit
I rage and I roar
A lion indignant
of injustice endured
Those who are with me
I honor your faith
Innocence surely
will open these gates

INNOCENCE IS NO EXCUSE Part 9 WHY DO YOU CHOOSE TO BELIEVE IN ILLUSIONS

It is interesting to note that a man is often judged on his behaviour and demeanour. Whether this actually has any bearing on his guilt is often irrellevant yet from societys perspective it carries much weight. One of the many aspects of Teds case that condemned him. It was brought out at the trial and paraded in front of the jury as the gospel. Surely no innocent man would display such inapropriate emotions in regards to what had happened. It is no secret that police seems to work from set guidelines of how a suspect should conduct himself. If you deviate from them you are branded suspicious. I believe that is refered to as tunnel vision. We are all individuals that react to trauma differently. Everybody resorts to their own coping mechanism. To deem someone a killer simply because he does not conform to these sets of guidelines are nothing short of madness. Yet time and time again in courtrooms across the country this is trotted out as surfire proof that a man is guilty as sin. What are these guidelines ? If you cry you better bring out the tears. Do not smile in any shape or form. You must remember everything that happened, if you do not you must be making it up. Never mind the fact that the mind tend to erase traumatic events to alevitate the pain. Not everything is black or white, there are shades of grey in any acts of crime, yet police often slavishly follow the book as if that is the only reasonable thing to do. This lyric has really nothing to do with that specific topic, but I felt it necessary to voice that opinion. Why do you chose to believe in illusions are about those people who knew Ted yet when the chips were down they turned their back and believed in the lies that were spread about him, when they should have trusted the man, not the propaganda. About one person in particular who I will not name.

I thought you knew me better,
but you don't know me at all
Trusting in false prophets
that want to see me fall

You will listen to strangers
and turn your back on me
Close your eyes to common sense
and embrace your apathy

Why do you choose to believe in illusions
and worship in a temple of lies
You should be coming to obvious conclusions
yet the truth just keep slipping you by

The abyss of your despondance
creates a muddled view
Paints a fractured portrait
that let's you misconstrue

Look below the surface
behind the curtains of your mind
Lift the veil of pre-conception
and read between the hollow lines

Imprisoned by your foolish rage
and burning up with cancer
There's many questions to be asked
you need to know the anwers

Your brand of justice
is born out of hate
A searing hot fire
that will never abate

It seethes deep inside you
a rush through your veins
You can never extinguish
such sorrowful pain

INNOCENCE IS NO EXCUSE Part 8 ON THE OTHER SIDE OF SOLITUDE

After Ted was convicted he was held in a jail cell down town. He was to stay there until he was transfered to a prison somewhere in Illinois. I used to take his brother Mick to see him every Friday. We'd hang around waiting for visiting hours to roll around. It was a cold dreary place. Some times we heard similar stories from relatives of other inmates who also felt their loved ones had been wrongully convicted. Whether there were merits to their claims I do not know. After Teds ordeal I am inclined to keep an open mind about such things. The cynic in me wants to say that once in awhile they actually do put people in jail that deserve to be there. The most unfortunate observation one can make about the justice system is that it is far easier to put an innocent man in jail than it is go get him back out. There seems to be few outlets for such an contingency. Once you are behind bars they tend to consider your case open and shut, no matter how many mistakes were made or how many inconsistencies mars the final outcome. Prosecutors will vehemently denie any wrong doing in the face of contrary evidence. Thankfully if DNA evidence is available their claims are often disproven. So how much can we trust their belief in the defendants guilt ? More importantly why do they persist they are a 100 percent certain the right man has been convicted, when the most ignorant of sceptics can see the flaws.
I don't really understand how some people blatantly ignore the obvious and convinces themselves what they do are the right thing when clearly it is not. How do they sleep at night ?
By the way the opening line in this lyric is meant to be a play on words, I refer to the afterlife as Teds life as he knows it is over, and he might feel he has indeed died. I don't think he really feels that way, at least I hope not. This takes place shortly after his conviction.

I lay about in the afterlife
glaring at the walls
Where shadows form in unity
then blend into my soul
The hourglass is forever full
with filtered desert sand
The strength of which has haltered time
and left me where I stand

I harbour thoughts I re-arrange
the fate of my life I try to change

On the other side of solitude
I strive to find my peace
For one brief gleam of hope I yearn
that this pain one day will cease

I catch the sun a certain way
to drink from it's delights
The restful dark a blanket firm
that comforts me at night
I wish the rain upon my face
and winds that pierce my mind
I need to feel and touch and see
what I was forced to leave behind

Each morning claims a memory
etched into this dusty floor
And what once was will never be
the way it was before
I cannot atone for my innocence
or confess imagined guilt
Nor wipe away the agony
from my worn down broken will

INNOCENCE IS NO EXCUSE Part 7 THE JUDAS KISS

I would like to recommend a book about Ted. It's called SHADOW IN THE RAIN and is written by reporter Harriet Ford. It's a fictionalised account about the case, although anything relating to Ted is true. I know, I was there for most of it. There should be no doubt in anyones mind about his innocence after reading this book. It can be obtained from such internet outlets as Barnes and Nobles, or Amazon.com. There were a couple of key factors in the conviction of Ted. One was his bogus confession, ( which the jury heard about, but never read so they did not know how ludicrous it was ) and the other was Ricky suddenly seeing things. His first statement collaborated Teds and Kristas version of the murder, however after talking to the police it was crafted to reflect their theory of the events. Mind you it took quite a few statements to finally arrive at that conclusion. At least 12, but maybe as many as 16. The unknown asassin was now all of a sudden Ted. A fact disputed by Krista. According to Ricky, Ted was walking towards Janet with a gun held straight out in front of him. In another tall tale he is right by her with a gun. Hmm, I wonder who shot at Ted then. He fires his gun up in the air then runs towards Krista as these bullets apparently rains down. What about the bullet in the lamp post. That the work of the gun fairy ? Rickys stories has been picked apart by experts far more knowledgeable about crimes than I am so don't take my word for it. His numerous accounts are all over the place and does not accurately reflect what took place that night. So, you say, why does he claim Ted killed Janet. Well, we know that Ted was urged to finger Ricky as the shooter. We have to assume Krista was under the same sort of pressure. Ricky was, truth be told, afraid to lose his family, so he caved to their wishes and agreed with their theory that Ted killed Janet. It makes it somewhat understandable, though not exusable. The book makes all this clear.
Why did no one listen to Krista ? Because she was deemed unreliable due to this supposed affair she was having with Ted. Ricky was on the stand perjuring himself to hell and back. His story was hogwash. Too bad the jury could not see through what those of us with a brain could.
This is about Ricky, not a very flattering portrayal, but he doesn't deserve one.

Why don't you tell me
why don't you tell me
why don't you tell me my friend
Why you sold me up the river
and twice around the God damn bend

I should have heard the rattle
from the snake in the grass
I should have fought the battle
instead of letting it pass

They called your name
put you on the stand
so we could hear the tales
from the running man
You're dressed up nice
in a suit and tie
Befitting a coward
that can't even look me in the eye

You sealed my fate with a Judas kiss
you aimed the bullet and you did not miss
It's in my back buddy buried deep
gotta ask 'ya how the hell do you sleep ?

Why did you need to rehearse
if what you told was the truth
If you straightened out your lies
you wouldn't be so confused
I listen to the words
from the serpents tongue
To hell with the consequences
from doing me wrong

Remember now my pal
you're in the court of law
You might try telling them
what you actually saw, but
You're a puppet and a fool
a man without a spine
You are the one with a criminal mind

I tried to convey
what I knew to be true,
but they hung me from the gallows
didn't give me my due
With a sigh and a shiver
I rose from the chair
The illusions of justice
don't pretend to be fair

INNOCENCE IS NO EXCUSE Part 6 BRING ON THE CLOWNS

In a trial the jury enters the proceedings with pre-concieved notions. They are not supposed to, but they do. The defendant is already at an disadvantage simply because he is the man singled out as the most likely culprit of the crime he has been accused of. After all why would prosecutors put on a case if the man is innocent. That hardly makes any sense. Of course the jury is asked in the selection process if they can render a fair and just verdict based on the evidence presented. Fine and dandy if the actual evidence has any bearing on the facts. Unfortunately in this particular case facts seems in short supply and the truth were left out of the courtroom. In an ideal world you are Innocent until proven guilty. However Ted was rendered guilty before the trial even started. No one will admit to that of course because we all want to believe in the justice system. I do not know anyone that has any faith left over after witnessing this spectacle, well, at least not those of us who knows Ted. The only credible witness that night was Krista, she was the one that collaborated Teds account, but since the prosecution alledged there was an affair between Ted and her, the testimony seemed suspect. There was no affair, but in order for the rest of the pieces in the puzzle to fit, one had to be invented. Makes one wonder then why Krista wasn't charged. If she was supposedly covering for Ted would she not be an accessary. I mean for all this to add up, she would have to be and she should have been charged, but she was not, so there goes that theory. It was all another smokescreen to divert our eyes from this flimsy plot holed filled tale they were telling. At one point the proescutors dragged out Janets bloody jacket and wanted Krista to identify it. I am not sure the prosecutor had planned the response they got. Krista started crying as the sight of the jacket greatly upset her. In the scheme of things this seemed rather unnecessary. Part of the plan one surmises to rattle her out of telling what she observed. It worked, she became rather frustrated and angry that she was constantly interrupted while trying to answer. She was even admonished by the judge at one point for her rather terse commentary. I don't know if I can blame her, she said what a lot of us felt. I don't think it helped Ted though, and worse was yet to come. I have described the trial as more or less a circus, hence the title, but it could just as well have been about a stage play, or a movie. The version of Ted we were presented had nothing to do with the real person. It was all trickery, an illusion of truth.
The lyric begins with the chorus, again, no music.. The last verse sort of segues into the next lyric.

Bring on the clowns
bring on the clowns
The circus has come to town
Elephants and acrobats
will dazzle and astound
so bring on the clowns
bring on the clowns

I'm observing the jury
try reading their minds
I hope they're not all
deaf dumb and blind
I listen to their stories
spun from paper thin lies
Where the truth becomes a sidebar
and only perjury survives

Can you believe
how they decieve
with the tricks of the trade
Spinning a yarn
not worth a darn
Planting doubts that will never fade

I yearn for justice
for it shall prevail
A conquest of freedom
from the shakles of jail
Faith in the system
faith in my heart
A man's gotta hope
or it will tear him apart

It's time for my friend
to bargain his soul
Forgiveness forsaken
by what you told
I looked in his eyes
a straight arrow face
Burning the bridges
a traitors disgrace

INNOCENCE IS NO EXCUSE Part 5 WHATEVER IT TAKES

Considering how many innocent people are in jail at this time, I have to wonder how many criminals have benefitted from that sad fact and are roaming the streets as I write this. Stands to reason that for every man, or woman wrongfully convicted the actual culprit has escaped punishment. Does that make you feel safe ? Yeah, thought not. I have watched enough documentary type crime shows and read enough books on the subject to realise that the system is seriously flawed. What is especially galling is hearing procecutors proclaim that they are certain they have the right person in jail. Even when evidence to the contrary stares them in the face, they will not budge. Let me get this straight, it is more important to preserve the win, because it's all about who wins the case, than guilt or innocence. So I guess anyone will do then ? There have been untold numbers of overturned cases in the last few years thanks to DNA, so I am not making this up. Check it out for yourselves. I don't think we will ever trully know how many lives have been ruined and are rotting away in a jail cell where no one will listen to their pleas of innocence. The most baffling aspect of Teds case is the missing gun. Unless the man is a magician there is only one answer. He did not do it. Let's backtrack, after being shot at by the actual killer he scrambled back into the bar and grill with Krista. He was never out of anyones sight. He could not hide any gun. From the time of the shooting to the time he was surrounded by witnesses was only a matter of minutes. What did he do, swallow it ? Keep in mind that he was searched as was Ricky and Krista. Their cars. The parking lot was gone over with a comb. Even rooftops were examined. Unless I have lost all common sense, I'd say it is impossible to shoot someone without a gun. This seemed to have been deemed unimportant at the trial, but to anyone with a modicum of braincells left it is in fact what proves beyond a reasonable doubt that Ted had nothing to do with Janets death. How some of us could figure this one out and others, who should know better did not defies explanation. Still not convinced. Alright, how about Teds clothes being checked for gun shot residue. None were found. Janet were shot at close range, surely there should be some tiny speck left. Something, anything. No, there you go. To family and friends though we knew what police and prosecutors would never know. We knew Ted, the man, who never exhibited traits that would indicate he would suddenly snap and kill someone. He was non violent, a kind man who would always help if you asked. He was liked by anybody that came in contact with him, and it pisses me off more than anything is to hear his good name sullied by those who did not know him at all. Frankly, you don't know squat.
This is a lyric about a wrong headed system that needs to improve it's methods, because folks, this just ain't good enough by a long shot.

Whatever it takes
the truth we forsake
and the lies won't be too hard to sell
For the public believe
the law won't decieve
such a myth we will never dispell

We have, but one goal
to capture your soul
by any means that need be
We'll twist and we'll turn
so you fry when you burn
we'll make sure you'll never be free

We know there's a chance
by a strange circumstance
that the deed wasn't done by you
But why should we care
we know you were there
and conveniance is the best thing we do

To keep us on track
we discard all the facts
we'll build this big house out of air
Construct a foundation
disperse trepidation
and conquer our suspects with fear

The rules that we bend
means gotcha my friend
it's all about winning you know
Believe our tales
and we got you nailed
while we put on one helluva show

INNOCENCE IS NO EXCUSE Part 4 INNOCENCE IS NO EXCUSE

Yes, there actually is one lyric called Innocence is no Excuse. I wish I could take credit for coming up with it, but alas that belongs to the British group Saxon who released an album with that particular title. However there were no songs bearing that name so I adopted it for this project. Mainly because I felt it perfectly described what happened to Ted. A few days after the murder of Janet Investigators asked Ted to come down to the police station to give a statement. Unfortunately Ted was under the misconception that he was there to help them with their investigation. Once in a room with detectives he soon realised he had become the number one suspect. Why, well, as best I can ascertain, because he was there. Yup, that's right if you are in close proximity to a murder you become the go to guy. If you knew the victim, the spotlights on you kid. Doesn't matter how inncocent you are. If the facts doesn't stick, they'll crazy glue it on to your forehead and call it a day. Now consider these facts. At the time of the interview Ted hadn't slept for 36 hours. He was still reeling from the loss of his girlfriend and the traumatic residue of grief. He is forced to view close up photos of Janet with a bullet hole in her head. Not even pictures from the autopsy he is spared. He is being screamed at ( Although at the trial investigators claim they never raised their voice. Rather conveniant that there was no video footage or tape recordings of the interrogation ) He is kept there for 14 hours not even allowed to use the bathroom. Who has that kind of a bladder ? There's attempt to have Ted finger Ricky as the killer, but Ted refuses to sell out his buddy to save himself. He knows his friend did not commit the crime so why use him as a scapegoat. Ricky on the other hand, well, we will get to that later. Then Ted makes the biggest mistake of his life. He signs a piece of paper confessing to the murder. Now, I assume you all go, hey he signed he must be guilty. Back in 96 I would have believed that, after educating myself on the matter I have found this is actually a common occurance. Let's examine this confession. This was one of several scenarios dictated to Ted by the investigators. The version he put his name on is so nonsensical it defies belief. According to this statement. Janet was depressed. She pulls out a gun.... and hold it right there. Problem, Janet was terrified of guns. She would never own one, much less carry one in her purse. Ted tries to wrestle the weapon away from her and it goes off resulting in Janets death. How it ended up shooting her in the back of her head must be one of those little mysteries no one seems able to explain. So, why did Ted sign. According to him. They had beaten him down. He was exhausted not thinking clearly and the detectives tell him if he signs he can go home, so that's what he did. And guess what, they let him go. The man they were so convinced were guilty, the man that signed a confession, they just let him walk right out of the police station. Says something about how sure they were now doesn't it ?
The lyric is about the interrogation.

I am in a room so sterile and cold
with naked white walls that subdues and controls
My state of existence is withered and frail
as I try to remember each horrendous detail

There's pictures before me like a mirror of death
in blood curling colors what I'd like to forget
I'm diverting my vision obscuring my view
as oblivion beckons let the numbness ensue

They keep pounding away at my sanity
devoid of compassion or humnanity

They are all un-fazed
while I'm pleeding my case
Impervious they are to the truth
They are bleeding me dry
I keep asking them why
Innocence is no excuse

I'm awake in a dream a bewildering state
where the reality that matters is the one they create
They don't need a killer to get a conviction
they'll just sprinkle the facts with a spoonful of fiction

Logic and reason is not part of this game
when they make me a suspect someone they can frame
A mantlepiece trophy a notch in their belt
for the public believes what they have to tell

Whatever I say they keep twisting my words
constructing pure nonsense beyond the absurd
I battle exhaustion my thoughts grow unclear
the threats, accusations, make it all disappear

They've whittled me down to my bare bones
My spirit's forsaken me I am all alone
I have begged, I have pleeded, I've scratched and I've clawed,
but justice is blind and so is the law

INNOCENCE IS NO EXCUSE Part 3 JANETS SONG

The last time I saw Janet was Thanksgiving 96. Family and friends were gathered for a day of good food and good company. Laughter would echo off the walls. We were all in high spirits enjoying ourselves. Nothing portending the events that later unfolded. On the day of the murder Ted and Janet had been out shopping for a Christmas tree that they later spent several hours decorating. Janet had moved into her own place after living with Ted for several years. It was not a huge source of contention as prosecutors would later hint at at the trial. The simple fact was that Janet wanted a child and Ted did not. He was not about to cross the threshold of 50 and begin raising another son or daughter. She was still in her late 20's and probably felt her biological clock ticking. Despite this disagreement their bond remained strong and they continued to see each other on a regular basis. Another theory prosecutors hoisted up the mast for all to see was their idea that Ted and Krista had an affair. News to the the rest of us, but why would we know. Honestly, this was too ridiculous for words. I thought that Janet should have a say in all this, especially since she is the one person who can't. She may have expressed herself differently from what I imagined. Considering someone just took your life, I venture rage would have more accurately described her feelings in the matter. However I have chosen to let her reflect on the situation. The final four lines is a bit of an editorial on my behalf and may sit uncomfortably with the rest of the lyric, but I have left it in. I do fear though I may be right..

You stole my life and erased my future
carved my soul with melted led
I never knew that it was over
until I saw myself lie dead

I had dreams that's now forsaken
I had hopes now gone awry
and in my world of quiet silence
I will always ponder why

A winter night of bleak composure
foreshadows darkness calls out despair
The streetlights glow in crimson carnage
gleaming off one blood stained tear

Yesterday was my last tomorrow
the shelter for my aching sorrow
A harbour safe and lost in time
with the memories I left behind

I stand amongst you and watch the madness
spy myself there on the ground
A pale forever is cast upon me
and I speak without a single sound

I would like to linger longer
perhaps stay another while
Cry for those who'll come to mourn me
and for the ghost of my unborn child

The symphony of suffering
will not console the damned
and some day some one else
will die before this man

INNOCENCE IS NO EXCUSE Part 2 HELL MUST BE A BETTER PLACE THAN THIS

After the murder Ted remained at the scene. When a policeman approached him he was overcome with emotions. The officer tried to calm him down, but this elicited only a frantic response that ultimately landed him the back of a squad car. He was only released after a minister arrived and demanded that Ted be let out. When it became time to inform Janets mother Ted insisted that she should be the one to tell her. He went in and broke the devastating news. For a brief moment they were all on the same side, and consoled each other. This was later to change as charges were brought forth against Ted.
The second lyric deals with the final goodbye and Teds subsequent spiral into misery. I have taken liberties in my portrayal, but smatterings of truth still lingers. Most of these words are written from Teds point of view, and obviously I cannot even begin to comprehend what he went through. I hope I never will.

I kissed your lips
I touched your hair
I walked away
into the void of despair

I saw the blood
I saw the gun
and such misery
from which I couldn't run

I don't want to remember,
but I can't seem to forget
The tapestry of memories
in fragmented silhouettes
Hell must be a better place than this

There is guilt
there is fear
and such agony
that will never disappear

The taste of terror
the scent of dread
The turmoil intertwined
with the chaos in my head

I've descended the trail
to the maze in my mind
I fumble in darkness
where the light never shine

I've lost you my darling
and I wish I knew why
I always thought I'd be
the first one to die

INNOCENCE IS NO EXCUSE Part 1 THE DEVIL IN DECEMBER

In December of 1996 Ted, Janet, Krista and Ted's friend Ricky left a bar and grill establishment in Loves Park, Illinois. Ted walked Janet over to her car where they exchanged a few words. Ted then heads towards his own car. He hasn't taken many steps before he hears a gasp and then a shot. He turns around to find Janet on the ground and a man holding a gun standing over her. He notices Ted and fires at him. Ted scrambles to get back to safety and on the way manages to pull Krista down behind her car. By the time all the commotion is over the gunman has vanished and Janet is dead. This was the start of a nightmare that Ted still relives to this day. He would later be accused of the crime and ultimately tried and sentenced for it. There was only one small problem. He didn't do it. Here is where I picked up pen and paper again and started writing. I was there through the aftermath and the endless sessions trying to come to grips with what had happened. Who was the real killer, why did it this senseless slaughter take place. Many sleepless nights were spent mulling over these questions, yet they yielded nothing, but more questions. So far I have written 10 lyrics about the case and the persons involved with it. These were meant as songs, but there is no music to them. A lot of what you will read in them are true, these things did happen. There is of course instances where I evoke the right to speculate. Some facts are based on what came out in the trial and some are based on what came out privately from family members and friends. I will attemt to inform you of what we went through. There will be information previously only known to a select few. The first lyric is from the killers perspective. Obviously I do not know his thoughts or motives so a lot of leeway I granted myself. Whether he was actually nervous in anticipation of the murder is anyone's guess. There seems to have been a bounty of suspects in that parking lot that night, yet apparently none were deemed worthy of an investigation. One of many was questioned by two security guards as he was observed wandering around outside the bar for several hours and when asked he told them it was none of their fucking business. Was that the killer. Or how about the man stopped by police, barefoot no less ( in the middle of the winter ) who asked if he was pulled over so they could ask him about the murder that no one knew about at the time, except for those at the scene. He was also rather close to the bar and grill. How about the convicted killer that happened to have a car sitting at this very lot. Yet, at the end of the day what do we end up with. Ted... Go figure.
The chorus is pretty simple and I figured the music would be tough and rocking hard, fitting the subject matter.

He's watching
he's waiting
patrolling the lot
Anticepating
fiering the shot
He's anxious
he's nervous
the moment is near
It's no turning back now
no surrender to fear

Remember, remember
The devil in December
The devil in December
Remember

He's ignoring discomfort
for a chance to succeed
The frostbitten wind
the chill of the deed
Caressing his gun
love how it feels
The shape of destruction
the death force of steel

It's long after midnight
and voices emerge
Adrenaline pulsates
an incredible surge
He locates the car now
preparing to kill
Enshrouded in in shadows
consumed by the thrill

He listens in silence
to her final farewell
On guilt and conscience
he refuses to dwell
He rises behind her
she startles and turns
In cold blood he shoots
regrets no concern

He bolts for the alley
he ducks out of sight
He'll vanish forever
in the cold winter night

BENEATH THE SILENT SURFACE Part 2 INTO REMNANT DAWN

I you haven't read part one yet I suggest you do that otherwise part two will make even less sense than it already does. I suppose the question will arise how someone already dead can be killed again, as pertaining to the first half of this poem. This stems from the belief system that there are different planes in the afterlife and I thought why not use that. So in this particular world of mine, if you are murdered you drop down another level of existence. I don't really elaborate on that in the poem. In part two the husband is brought back to life and is accused of killing the man who strangled his wife as well as his wife. In order to return to the great beyond he confesses to a crime he did not commit. All he wants is the needle. The poem picks up with him in jail.

There's no consolation in the wait
just agony prolonged
A man that wants to die, but quick
he'll curse a heart that's strong
Beat, beat, beat that blasted pump
is there not an end
Each mocking tick continuous on
again, again, again

They threw a trial on my behalf,
but I did not even care
I want my due so I confessed
no matter how unfair
Yet years dragged on so very slow
I begged for my demise
Do not withhold a promise made
the right I have to die

My grave is dug I volunteer
to shear these earthly ties
Flutter away like wayward dust
a perfect suicide
Still it seems that I am bound
by contradictive means
They set the time and booked a room
so sanitized and clean

At last the day is here
my lips has drawn a smile
Supress me not such frightful joy
I'll run the final mile
The needle sharp invades my skin
It's death without delay
I plunge into a soothing calm
my life just drips away

In the cavernous city of devourering lights
Nocturnal delinquints come harvest your spite
They pillage perversions they prey on deceit
Feast on the bones of the old, obsolete
Clustered in carnage they drink from themselves
Recycling evil from a deep human well
In the ghastly glare of their vacant eyes
One would do best to step swifly aside

I flee through the twirl of a pallid dank smoke
mystical fires unfurls with furious strokes
Burrowing plumes in a crimson embrace
Smouldering meadows swaying ablaze
Atop the horizen rests a quiescent moon
on which craters conceal multiple tombs
In petrified slumber the weary convene
Forever unconscious they languish in dreams

I traipse across the bridge of sparrows
A feathery pathway, endless and narrow
Upwards, onwards, climbing the wave
A transient traveller, unbound by the grave
There's mountains of moisture so transparent and grand
with a lingering lustre, the ripples of man
Where phantoms of fury in liquid constraints
lays encased in water red rocks of rain

Something lurks beyond the sea of denial
where empty orbs traverse an endless isle
A featureless forever enslaved into mourning
cleansing while weaving into a new aborning
Rupturing their rapture such a pitiful past
Rebuilding reflections in fog shrouded glass
Feeble hands are reaching for an impossible salvation
Relinquished by life a tumultuous abdication

I scavenge the valley of whispering winds
dissecting it's secrets from realms within
Unveiling the matrix the map to my mind
Into remnant dawn I build memories out of time
There's shelter in knowing ones fate
A conviction once found will never abate
There's those that doubt and those who believe
strength is an anchor a burden relieved

In serenity's harbour a ship lays aground
spectre's marooned in a bleak coastal town
A pervading despondance, a long dormant dread
perils that beckons from which they once fled
Ashen with anguish these castaway few
sense approaching forboding to late to undo
Huddled together under dark scarlet skies
They strive to feign courage whilst terror looms nigh

Soon they're upon us these murderous ghouls
once mortal slayers the beyond they now rule
The life after life yields and omnious earth
death is not a sanctuary that leaves you un-hurt
They come at us with cleavers, with swords and with knives
They slit, they cut, they tear and they slice
The blood of the spirit is spattered and spewed
until all is extinguished not a sound would intrude

Thus here at last lies the vast third plane
and altering existence exempt from grieving pain
Quell my disillusions, I feel now she's quite near
I wonder if she's waiting still for me to re-appear
Into tranquility I dive, into the lake of souls
Amongst the dead I glide, unburdened by the cold
I peruse each hollow face for features I will know
Examine all and everything, above, beneath below

In shallow pools I do detect a luminous allure
A gleaming glow of distant lights opalescent and pure
Upon me soon my destiny unfettered and devine
Through the maze of misery my quest is well defined
In opaque silhouette a familiar shape I recognise
If I were air I'd suffocate within myself I'd die
I behold at journeys end my darling wife Celeste
I cling to her with all my might, two lovers layed to rest

BENEATH THE SILENT SURFACE Part 1 CONTOURS OF SOLACE

Here's a poem in two parts. Up until that point the longest one I had ever written. I felt I needed an environment where anything is possible and where no one could actually prove me wrong. No one living that is. So this takes place in the afterlife. I wanted it to be surreal yet with a strong human element. It's a story about undying love and one mans journey to find his dead wife. The same subject was also explored in WHAT DREAMS MAY COME, but I think this heads off in different directions from that film. I tried to let my imagination run completely free here, nothing was off limit, nothing impossible. It starts with a man coming home one day to find his wife has just been murdered and the killer is still there. He dispatches the killer and then turns the gun on himself. Thus begins an odyssey into realms unknown.

She lays on the floor
by the foot of the bed
Hands 'round her neck
strangled, she's dead
The killer is laughing
as I walk through the door
So I blow him away
just to even the score

I banish my sorrow
for I have the cure
Put the gun to my temple
and relief I'm ensured
I'm reborn from rebirth
in the sandunes of death
As I crawl from the vortex
of abandoned regrets

Armed with persistence
A hunters crusade
In a world of immortals
the forsaken, dismayed
I pause to observe
such a destitute place
Where spirits converge
in a dark rusty haze

I see rivers suspended
floating in the air
Glistening in a crimson hue
that will never disappear
Rain's cascading from the soil
and fall unto the sky
to saturate depleted clouds
as they drift on by

I trek on through a forest
of empty human shells
Where they wait to snag a soul
and bid this plane farwell
They're cloaked in desperation
and bound by circumstance
Peering into hollow hopes
that will never advance

Immersed in contemplation
weary in my quest
I've carved a path of foolish wrath
to become what I detest
( Yet ) There's contours of solace
beneath the silent surface
To conquer my redemption
I must forage for a purpose

I come upon a garden
where flowers are forged in ice
A frosty breath of winter chill
procured a swift demise
I brave such wicked hostile winds
across the desert snow
Bloody prints left in my wake
retains a ghostly glow

I rest in the canyon
of colorless leaves
Where souls are left lonely
forlorn and bereaved
I anchor myself
to the pale dusty ground
Where I'm mourning the lost
that have been left unfound

I glare at defeat
still I toss out your name
Echoes of longing
with no discernable aim
I'm bent and I'm broken
so suffused with despair
I failed to aknowledge
it was you standing there

The need to speak I did forego
to share a sweet embrace
I've come so far to be this close
not a moment I will waste
So when we chance upon a glen
enravished we entwine
Lawless in our lovelorn lust
re-joined as if by design

I'm lulled into slumber
my conflicts at ease
Nestled beside you
at last I am at peace
( But ) The allure of complacement
is a treacherous foe
Imbued with the delusions
that follows in tow

When I awake I sense decay
envelopes me in dread
For what I cradle in my arms
is her disembodied head
On a mound the killer taunts
hatchet in his hand
Grinning wide as if to say
catch me if you can

The pamorama in my view
implodes in gleaming white
The deconstruction starts anew
to feed the famished light
Petrified, such tattered gloom
depspondance one derives
For what I feared the most of all
they brought me back alive