![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
The House Concert Series |
and Links |
Snider |
Childers |
with Ellis |
Unnofficial Half |
Home |
of Events |
![]() |
![]() Skipping Stones There's a soldier's shadow Where the world was torn There's a beating heart On the ocean floor There are skipping stones And faded jeans There is glory, halleluiah In a soldier's dreams There's a soldier's widow In a field of flowers There's a painted picture Sacrificed for towers There are skipping stones And wax pressed leaves There is glory halleluiah In a solder's dream There's a soldier's daughter With the soldier's son Holding hands at the tombstone In the setting sun There are skipping stones And handkerchiefs There is glory, halleluiah In a soldier's dream There's a soldier's shadow Where a child stood brave It's an endless battle But the game's still played There are skipping stones And mysteries There is glory, halleluiah In a soldier's dream There's a soldier's shadow On the ocean floor One by one they walk past us Still we throw one more There are skipping stones On broken seas There is glory, halleluiah In a soldier's dream There's a soldier's shadow In a dead man's war We remain unchanged And we throw twelve more We are skipping stones So naturally There is glory, halleluiah In a soldier's dream written by theresa halfacre November 26, 2006, 12:22 a.m. ![]() ![]() ![]() Monkey Magic I think I'll have wine with a monkey Get a little drunk Then I'll feel a little funky And a little drunk Have you ever noticed how a monkey Likes to pick his nose I just think it's kind of funny How he never blows Who needs a dog for a pet When you can have a monkey instead? They can be toilet trained & bottle fed Without a wire fence Give me some of that monkey magic I want to look cool I'll swing in a human habitabit Instead of a zoo I may not be exotic Or maybe I'm cruel But you have to admit it A monkey's kind of cool Some people think monkeys Can be a little mean Well so can this honkey If I don't tame the beast I'm really not destructive I'm just a little extreme That's why I like to jump in and out of reality Some call me Curious George 'Cause I never want to live a life bored I'd rather live with a monkey And speak Chinese Give me some of that monkey magic I want to look cool I'll swing in a human habitabit Instead of a zoo I think I'll have wine with a monkey And get a little drunk Then I'll have a banana And swing from a rope I can be just like Tarzan A primate makes me a better man I'll cuddle you and understand Handle you with care You don't need to experiment with me I'm a cousin to the chimpanzee I'm just as uncommon as monkey Out of captivity I think I'll have wine with a monkey It's an animals right To drink wine with a monkey Instead of starting a fight Yeah, I drank wine with a monkey Gotta little of that monkey magic Come aboard if you think you can handle The swinginest human habitabit Yeah, I'm living like a moneky But at least I'm free written by theresa smith halfacre august 2006 ![]() Final Wave Hey, Jackson lets ride that last wave The ocean’s as red as the season of change It’s got a spirit for sure And the water’s as pure As the eye that stings through your veins Salting the earth with the taste of your skin Two feet of courage; the tide's rolling in It takes rhythm to live Let’s fly with the wind And crash as the sea parts again Let’s forget the cutting of strings All the sorrow that war brings Confuse demons for sleep Feathered angels move deep Beneath the storms thundering chin Why do we have to wonder? So many lives; out there under fire. Can’t we all live in peace? Join every hand of disease; Hunger for the right way to die? Hey Jackson, raise your hand for a final wave The ocean’s as blue as the life you gave You had a spirit for sure And a heart just as pure And your eye’s the calm in this hurricane. From ocean to coast to land Every wave makes a stand Why can’t we be; The calm in the sea? We all have blood on our hands. Written by theresa smith halfacre, August 6, 2006 3:27 a.m. ![]() A Family of Strangers Once upon a time, I was a little girl I dreamt of a family and a perfect world I found my prince and married him We worked five days and then slept in We talked about our family; We couldn’t want for more Until one day opportunity came knocking Yeah, it knocked down my door And soon before I knew it I didn’t know him anymore Once upon a time, I had a mom and dad They loved me in a way, only they could understand I did my best to give back to them As hard I tried, it seemed I failed again So I stopped trying And decided not to care I took a job out of state from 9 to 5 I kissed them both and waved good-bye Then before I knew it, They both had died. The strangers are my family now That I no longer know They seemed to want too much from me So I just let them go Now their words call hauntingly From far beyond the grave They lift their hands up lovingly But, I’m to ashamed to say, “I’m sorry, I went away.” Once upon a time, my brothers were my friends Played basketball in the driveway; Rode our bikes ‘til 10 p.m. Who would know that we’d grow old, Become someone we didn’t know? Best intentions sometimes fail Birthday cards were never mailed Now they’re far away from me We don’t seem like a family And the further we go The further the memories fades Once upon a time, I had a little girl She grew up dreaming of a perfect world Opportunities came knocking again Work in the morning, home after ten I set her aside with her dreams A nanny to hold her and teach her things I never knew how much I missed ‘Til her dream came true; she found a prince Opportunities set her free She grew up just like me To my family I’m a stranger now That they no longer know I seemed to take so much from them So, they just let me go My words call to them hauntingly From far above the graves I lift my hands up lovingly I’m not ashamed to say “I’m sorry, I went away” God, I miss my family now They slipped away; And I know how. theresa smith halfacre august 2006 ![]() Drop Dead Gorgeous She was sitting in a tavern Three hundred miles from home So far she had traveled To get away from it all Skeletons and broken bones She’s better alone Alone and away Drop dead gorgeous There in the tavern She felt a little sting Spinning on the juke box Was a song they used to sing She grabbed her purse For whatever it was worth Just walked away Alone and away Drop dead gorgeous There’s a fragrance in freedom Few of us know It whispers to believers And welcomes them home Play hard and wild, sweet child Before you go Alone and away Drop dead gorgeous She was standing in the doorway Her mind was a mile away She never saw him coming Three hundred miles away Pulled the trigger; left nothing but a trace Drop dead gorgeous went home Wearing an angel’s face Alone and away Drop dead gorgeous Feel the draft behind you Listen to the wind It isn’t always blowing But it’s always talkin’ It hits home; wherever home is You can’t out run it You can only wish Alone and away Drop dead gorgeous theresa smith halfacre 2006 ![]() I Find This Woman Amazing ![]() Virginia, In the End Is Virginia here among the chatter? And if she is, do I even care? Exquisite in the end, does it matter? Some memories too often disappear. Cultured intellectuals feared her The darkest eyes are sometims clear Following nightmares of the written word And voices only she could hear A testament of endurance and resistance Became the incubation of her art Complicating nights with composition Desperate to keep two worlds apart Penning souls, she put on paper A portrait of the words she wrote Caught between wars that would rape her In the end she only left them a note Virginia, there is laughter for the lonely Lying in the veins of River Ouse A thousand tears hold the future to you only And unshackles what the rest of us lose Virginia is here among the chatter And, yes, it’s true that I care Exquisite in the end, it doesn’t matter Some memories too often reappear. Your hair, like a lighthouse, courses time Lost in one sentence you left behind Sometimes cruel can be like sunshine In the end it's dark and unkind. Written by theresa smith halfacre July 2006 ![]() Adoption We were born in the same state In three different years Our parents drove hundreds of miles To sign the dotted line And form a cohesive family Forty years later We all live in a different state I can’t help but shake my head Somewhat amused, somewhat confused That the very roads that led to our childhood Keep us apart as adults. Written by theresa smith halfacre, August 18, 2006 6:01 p.m ![]() Home Take me into the woods Build a home for just us two A fireplace made with stones Comfortably, we’ll live alone We had a dream I dream it still A little meadow A little hill A forgotten promise On a windowsill A little lace A little trace A forgotten tomorrow A forgotten place I miss you And our home Take me in to the woods Build a campfire for just us two Then place my heart on a stake So it may burn for good I had a dream I dreamt alone You set the foundation Then let it grow Tall like weeds In our home. Written by theresa smith halface 2006 2:04 a.m. ![]() ![]() What God Intended Troops of soldiers pound their way To my country you call the enemy In the name of God you say Is that what I am to you? I’m a nine year old refugee Insurgents killed my family A word I barely knew before You came to my country Is that what you are teaching me? Is that what God has planned for me? Daddy’s dead and I don’t believe, That’s what God intended Bombs are blasting in the air Walls collapsing everywhere Mommy cries for Mashadani A kid napping in Fallujah Now you won’t let me speak Waving guns; promoting peace My blouse is torn and you kiss me I’ve never been kissed before Is that what you are teaching me? Is that what God has planned for me? Bodies lying in street and I don’t believe That’s what God intended Now, I don’t speak your language; I love Jesus Christ and God I believe in the Prophet Mohammed It’s what I was taught A gun made of plastic is my hand You gave it to me to help me understand Why I'm crying a hospital bed Missing my daddy Is that what you are teaching me? Is that what God had planned for me? Promoting peace with deadly deeds Is that what God intended? Is this what God is teaching us? Is this what God has planned for us? With every bullet we spill his blood Is this what God intended? Written by theresa smith halfacre, June 21, 2006 12:34 a.m. ![]() ![]() Bittersweet Bittersweet, I remember Long ago you gave a spirited fight. Now the days surrender to the memory, Of another time lost in soldier’s sky. What’s it take for darkness not to haunt you? Where will your dreams go if they die? Let’s cry awhile, Let the Sunday morning rapture, Capture us in a Carolina sky. Bittersweet, do you remember The years that have simply past you by? No one loves you like they use to. You’ve aged like a fairytale from a lullaby. Stay awhile; let memories surround you. What’s the harm? They’ve already killed your mind. Gingerbread with lemon sauce awaits you, In a room with morning blend served at nine. Bittersweet, do you remember How we danced to bird songs and wind chimes? What does it matter and who really cares When you’re children are grown And on their own? You are mine and I am yours I will always love you. I’ll hold your hand and stroke your face; I’ll keep you safe. Bittersweet, Bittersweet, Oh how I fear tomorrow As I begin to lose your mind. And bouquets of yellow roses begin their rest. Written by theresa smith halfacre 2001 ![]() Turned On It’s 1 a.m. again The only thing turned on is me Lying in my bed alone Thinking ‘bout memories Memories make me laugh out loud They make me cry a tear Memories can do most anything Except bring you back to me I thought about writing you a letter I thought about giving you a call But, what would I say to you? Seems we’ve said it all I’ve changed everything about me I’ve changed the color of my hair I stopped looking in the mirror Most days I never care I’ve got three bruises I’ve got three old dirty shirts I’ve got an assload of dresses I’ve got new shoes for work Memories make me laugh out loud They make me cry a tear Memories can do most anything Except bring you back to me. I thought about writing you a letter I thought about giving you a call I have so much to tell you Or have we said it all? Did you hear about David? Did you hear about DC? Did you hear that Jessica, Got a job with NBC? It’s one a.m. again The only thing turned on is the tv Lying in my bed alone Thinking how you turned on me. Written by theresa smith halfacre, 1:10 a.m. ![]() ![]() GOOD GIRL I am the good girl The one who is always fair The one who stands up for the voiceless I’m a faceless name in a crowd But every body knows me somehow Will they ever, will they ever go away? You know I can’t be everything they say So I fall down on my knees Please give me a moment or two I’m not your angel I’m not your sweet little victory doll I die inside myself all night long And you never really know How much I wish, I really wish I wasn’t I’m a good girl I never drink and drive I go to church, I pray, I work, I try I am simple But there’s so many me’s inside I don’t know which is me or who am I And when I sleep I walk the landslide of my life Oh, keep breathing Keep the fight going on all day Is it only in mind? Will I ever find the peace that never rests at night? I am the good girl I’m the pretty face in the crowd She knows her stuff, she’s loveable, and she’s kind She’s a loser And she’s never there on time And when she is she’s always disappointing Who’s the brother, That one who's on her mind The one who broke this trusting heart of mine? He says she’s worthless And she’s an angel. With a demon deep inside. She’s Corinthians Uncle Screwtape give us a sigh For the good girl. Who’s the good girl? God, I won’t pray for you to take this pain away I only want to know who made me this way? And why. Cause I’m a good girl. Written by theresa smith halfacre, February 24, 2005, 10:51 p.m. ![]() ![]() Winters Reaping As time slips by and dream sweep past I lie in Winters Reaping I dreamt I cried a thousand cries No one heard my weeping Oh take my hand my forgotten love For I am weak with sorrow I am the one who harbors in The shallow ebb of mourning I walk a path I do not know I walk a path alone I take on burdens near and far But never heed their warnings For I am tired with blackened eyes And sleep is never near me The winter seeps in all my wounds Though never does it hear me Passions lie in rocks and streams I wander in the morn I take a sip of wine and drink The blood of the Lord “Come follow me,” he says to me But I am weak and broken I seek not truth nor trust the look Not even when I am weeping I bow my head I pray to thee I walk to the human edge I look down deep for castle rocks And to the Winter I pledge I pledge my life to mysteries I pledge my life to dreams I pledge my ruined life to thee I pledge eternally In silence someone speaks to me And dreams, they come alive Sweet Jesus you came back to me You never left my side You prayed for me You stayed for me You walked with the weary trodden On Calvary you whispered to me “I’ll meet you in Winters Reaping” Oh darling love, oh darling love, My life on earth in not over Though I am sad, I touch the land In reverie of clover I don’t know where we go from here I only know it’s together. Written by Theresa Smith Halfacre ![]() If I could go back to our wedding day From my entrance as a bride You, the groom at my side I’d stare in your eyes and say That forever doesn’t mean Isolation from a dream I’d remove the word obey And replace it with the vow to pray If I could go back to our wedding day From the flowers and the guests To my simple wedding dress I’d listen closer when you’d say “We may not have a lot, I’ll give you what I’ve got. One thing we’ll always share is our name.” Oh God, that doesn’t lessen the pain If I could go back to our wedding day From the alter to the wish The “I do,” and then the kiss I’d hold to your hand and say “Today I have my health, Tomorrow I’ll need your help. Will you put down your pride for my pain? Or turn your back and walk away?” If I could go back to our wedding day From the pictures to the cake To the rings that bared our names I’d cry a tear and say, “The best day of my life Is when God made me your wife. If I ever think I’m better off walking away, Tell me why it is I should stay.” If I could go back to our wedding night To the carriage and the sea To the bed that knew our dreams I’d blot every tear from your eyes I’d wipe away each mistake The effort I didn’t make Until death do we part I would die If only we had given "us" time If I could go back to our wedding day It would be you and me and God Not the papers with me now The promises we both made Are what brings us here today; The alter only takes Our words for one day Leaving us to find our way To love, honor and obey theresa smith halfacre 2006 ![]() Who’s the keeper of the world? The voice for the unheard; Is he dead, did he fall away beleaguered? Can he see the killing down below? If so, where did he go? Has the devil become our promise keeper? God, this silence in the night Voices filled with fright Children everywhere; lost and broken God , this battle in the air Mother Nature do you dare Turn on your one and only father? Who abandoned the Amish girls that died? Was Jesus Christ by their side? A single file of corpses all victorious In the name of religion we kill Judge the Islam and the Jews In triumph we stand devoted to our failure God, does compassion exist In prayers clenched with fists The old, decrepit and the dying God, the blood that’s in our veins Is it synthetic in your name Are we united, pathetic or disloyal There are crusaders everywhere Preaching, how do they dare; Pave a path of phantom glory? Transparent like their words They utter nothing, but it’s all heard Reverence is marred in lost salvation God, did the prophet walk away From three thousand hidden graves Do we ignore survivors; build concrete memorials God help these thoughts and my words Satan, you’re creation’s world Brilliantly, you execute your people. theresa smith halfacre November 2006 | In Memory of David Stewart | There Are Those ... | shots | Store | Stuff | More Stuff | Thread Songs | The Most Recent Stuff | | In The House Concert Series | Artists and Links | Todd Snider | David Childers | Storyhill with Ellis | The Unnofficial Half | Pictures | Theresa | Return Home | Calendar of Events | |
||
