CaptainMikeRS

This is gonna sound weird but: The Brave Little Toaster. That was my favorite movie growing up and it just pulls me in. Now that I'm 18 though I've found some very troubling themes of death, angst, lonliness and such that I never noticed as a kid. Others would have to be: The Good, Bad, and the Ugly The Longest Day Candyman (any of the 3) South Park: Bigger Longer and Uncut Bevis and Butthead do America A Chiristmas Story Spiderman (all) X-Men (all) and any TMC classic or b-movie that would be prone for Mystery Science Theater 3000 I'll watch.

U2: With or Without You was mine, for May 12, 1987.

Some of the one's I've heard of or seen on other sites include: Johnny Incest and the Relations The Colosotmy Bags Fantastic Earwig !-!-! (hyphenated so it does not reformat) Cheese Beaver Elvis Hitler Insert Creative Name Here

This is my latest song, since I removed two I lost count. Progressive rock tune. Fathers of Alchemy (Written November 18, 2005 By Mike R. Smale © 2005) I. Challenge of the Gods In days when man was immortal- Pure, with righteous hands. The age of light and wisdom- Without war’s dire brand. Answers began to be found To thoughts that never were. Justice and morals drowned- In science’s splendor. II. To Forge the Stone A burst of liquid fire- Toxins in the air. Atop the windswept spire, Witness mankind’s err. A rock of immense fortune, To grant gold and endless life. To reclaim his lost virtue, Of the ancient times of man. Forever lost in deadly thoughts, To reverse what they began. III. Extinction Eons passed- and all for naught, The sacred stone became unsought. Man resumed his way of life, Ravishing the lands. Ending is own reign- With his once righteous hands.

First post in ages, I've been busy with college work and transfer applications to Berklee College of Music so I can leave Fitchburg State and persue a real career. I have no clue which song this is in order, since I removed The Greatest Masquerade and The King's Crusade, I never was fond of those songs. This is my most recent one, progressive rock tune in a 7/8 meter. Running On Time (Written November 6, 2005 By Mike R. Smale) To run the race of destiny; Upon the track of confusion. All of the years rolling by On a nonstop partition Beside you. What does it mean? Have I been here before? I already know where I’m going. The world on the screen, Is that all my life? I know it’s too late, but I’m leaving. What answers can I find In these ruins of time. Ending, beginning- they all look the same- Consecutive images appearing again. Each upon the wheel in the darkness Of life. A woman in satin, dressed for deceit; Touches hearts with her red, lace glove. Whispering lies through an innocent gaze, Spreading the failures of love. What do I see? I see nothing but sky, Endless and twisting on high. What do I know? Where I’m going. What answers can I find In these ruins of time. Ending, beginning- they all look the same- Consecutive images appearing again. Each upon the wheel in the darkness Of life.

This is my 24th song, rock n' roll tune. My first song in the true rock n' roll style as well. Cappuccino Kisses (Written September 5, 2005 By Mike R. Smale © 2005) In the neon lighted taverns, Stale heartache drifts about in the air- Some melancholic jazz notes From a lonely saxophone, blare. And in the midst of smoke and sadness- I catch her eyes in a stare. Well, I take the seat right next to her, And I ordered us two coffees. And after just a little bit of small talk, My blood pressure's rising And my stomach is churning With a swarm of bees. Oh, I hardly even know you, girl, But something just seems so true. Well, I don’t want you to think I’m crazy, If I said that I happened to love you. We took a evening stroll into the city, Through the streetlights just flickering on. I told her that I'd take her to her dwelling, She said, "That'd be so sweet," with a yawn. I brought her to her front steps, And she offered a grin. She kissed me on the cheek, Gave me her number, Said that she would do it again. And the jazz is screeching brightly, Out into the city night. Oh, your cappuccino kisses, Make me feel alright. Those cappuccino kisses Make me feel alright.

These three poems were written over the course of this past week and have not received any feedback on my primary site, so any here would be greatly appreciated. All are copywritten 2005. The Enforcer (Written August 23, 2005 By Mike R. Smale) "Strike one- You’re out!" I bowed to the little man And said "goodbye!" __________________________________________________ Breath of Being (Written August 23, 2005 By Mike R. Smale) Glorious Spring has returned To bring salvation to The earth in Fall spurned Come with Life and Peace. But Peace is violent, Such is the order. Winters quietly spent Give rise to the rush of life. Turmoil and strife, Such is necessary: Not ugly, this Life, Life is to live. Like love is this, Like the sea moving Tempestuous, yet not amiss For this is the way. Peace, quiet, solitude Descend like winter To restore that mood, To reflect next spring. __________________________________________________ The Yoke (Written August 27, 2005 By Mike R. Smale) I see you here, Next to me in the night. Your brown eyes and hair A million in a million of each As Christ mounts upon the tattered Universe, to a rising bolero of All. And truth spreads out before us, A horrid torture chamber For our bloody innards... And I am here too much overcome By the realization that life- For the dung-pile eye- Is too much to bear.

My 23rd song, progressive rock tune. Inspired by the 60th anniversary of dropping of the atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Ballad to August (Written August 17, 2005 By Mike R. Smale © 2005) It was just another summer's day, On a morning barely roused. Children went off to play Under a sky painted by angels. We can finish it quickly they said. Too many of our boys Are coming home dead. If we use this new toy of ours. What have we brought to this world now? An instrument of sin. We burned away our innocence, So that a war we could win. A new device of pain and sorrow, What have we brought to the world Of tomorrow? It was just another summer's day, Slaughtered in the flash. Air became fire; men became ash, The sky painted in the blood we have shed. What have we brought to this world now? An instrument of sin. We burned away our innocence, So that a war we could win. A new device of pain and sorrow, What have we brought to the world Of tomorrow?

Unfortunitely it's not them, my father remembers something of either "Church of" or "Christian" in their name as well as the breakfast bit. My only choice now is to watch the Celtic channel and hope they show the video in between the shows.

I'm not talking about Omnivore or Five Iron or the like. There was a band on the old show Wired on the Celtic Channel, the song was called Feeding Frenzy and was all in black and white, there where three guys in a car singing the song (the chorus was just Feeding Frenzy in a high voice by the only member of the group with a beard) and they are carrying boxes into a store while doing the song and it shows them on the survailance camera. I know my description is awful but I can't find the name of this group anywere. I think it had the word "breakfast" in it for some reason but I'm clueless and it's driving me nuts! I wish they haden't taken that show off so I could try and catch the name agian. Help me out, please!

Title is Gaelic for Garden Peace, written for my college writing class. Based on the gardens that fill my backyard. Gairdín Síocháin by Mike R. Smale © 2005 Beyond the motley passage of nodding lilies that greet me with their sharp aroma, against the worn, grey fence on the property line, lies a shrine built of flower blossoms. I come to the edge, where the temple begins, dotted with roses of every red, white and green they can present themselves in, the natural perfume enwraps me along with the cool, moist air of the freshly watered soil. The cedar floor of mulch welcomes me as I enter up the flagstone lane leading to the bench where two roses climb its archway sides and I sit. Here I am able to release myself surrounded in pure tranquility. Within the solitude I absorb all that is around me. Silence spreads itself over this garden as the mulch that covers its floor, broken only by the slight whine of a passing mosquito after it has left an irritated lump upon my exposed arm. The smell of the water is draped thickly across the ornate landscape, interrupted occasionally by the few large, grey and brown boulders. Angelic statuary looks back at me, like a guardian force protecting this sacred place. An orchestra of flavors and soothing sounds fill the air. A faintly bitter taste of pollen lingers in the back of my throat, instigating a subtle cough into the hot, clammy air. The placid song of wind chimes ruptures the serenity as a warm gust of summer air kisses my face tentatively before moving onward. Then, a sudden pang meets my leg as another mosquito flies into the canopy of overlooking trees behind the dull, old fence. I can hear the cry of my muse amongst the flora, as if the statues of the angels had begun to converse with me. The pains of heartache release their grip upon my core and I am free. Free amongst all the thriving vegetation, some of their petals scattering into the sky with another gust of the sour, muggy wind. I stand from the bench and venture into the garden, a slight pain in my left calf as I brush too close to a rose, and a light red and prickly scratch takes shape. The stone eyes of the angels seem to look at me, as if laughing at my maladroit movement throughout their home, and I begin to laugh with them. The calming, crisp sent of pine enters my nostrils as I near the towering fir tree, thick and green on the front, yet stripped, hard and dead on its rear from a lack of proper sunlight. My heart feels like that backside so many times, but it is here that I am renewed and can overcome the pains of everyday demands and be reborn like the searing phoenix. I am full of life akin to the aging pine's visage. The cool and fading sheath of evening is slowly draped over the garden. The mosaic skyline emulates my surrounds with the yellows, reds, and indigos all waltzing into the dimming sky with scattered stars. The constellations, imitating a fathomless painting that has begun to wear and peel in intricate shapes. Leisurely, the solar lights planted alongside the foliage begin to flicker on in their faint blue, icy glow. Reminding me that there is always an optimistic beam in every shady time, upon the deteriorating canvas of unhappiness. Luna emerges into the firmament, her light dancing across the earth, docile and warmed only by the summer air. The silver rays descend through the air and fall upon the sodden ground, enswathing the closed flowers, and myself in their silken webs. Swimming in the lunar mesh are the fireflies, like minuscule lighthouses flashing in a numinous beat to the wail of a distant night bird. The mildly chilly air whips past, pinching at my body along with even more mosquitoes, branding my arms and legs again, leaving behind more of the inflamed welts. I decide to retire to my home and gradually make my way back, past the now shut lilies still bobbing in the darkness with each breath of fresh, twilight air. Walking back, I remember how this garden appeared scarcely a year ago, a barren and muddy slab of land. Only the smell of decaying leaves from previous autumns twirled about in the atmosphere. The only colors decorating the sickly brown landscape was the occasional weed or strangling vine, slithering down from the canopy of young maples and towards the fence. Now, with the passing of spring to summer, I can barely recall that wasteland. Refurbished as I have been through the harmony that I have found in this plot of ground. I come here to drop my sorrows in exchange for the vigor found within the setting of luscious roses and playful cherubs, a baptism in all that is natural. This is where I go to find God.

Many Divine Comedy songs use a Mellotron in the studio and then apply a session orchestra on stage but some of the songs include: The Summerhouse National Express Generation Sex Becoming More Like Alfie and many many more, virtually every song to be precise.

This is my 22nd song, progressive rock tune. Written at 2:30 in the morning. About searching for new love. Daybreak Memories (Written June 15, 2005 By Mike R. Smale © 2005) Within a summer's darkness, Shortly after midnight- A chilling wind rustles Leaves, before a streetlight. Their shadows waltzing Upon my bedroom wall. I hear a whisper- In the air. I turn to look, And face what is not there. Then gaze out of the window And into the night I stare... Make a tender wish Upon a fallen star. Looking to the distant hills, I wonder where you are. A hazy sunrise- A smoggy ray. Welcoming the morning When love has gone away. I find myself new happiness Inside this newborn day. Make a tender wish Upon a fallen star. Looking to the distant hills, I wonder where you are.

The line always read I'll tell you that you'll lose a love, and throw your heart away. Like I really see the future, if I'm blind to what's today. My AOL account got hacked last night and I think someone had some fun messing with the sites I'm a member of.

This is my 21st song, heavy metal tune. About how not all psychics are tell the truth, inspired after watching an episode of Penn and Teller's Bulls***. Tarot (Written June 6, 2005 by Mike R. Smale © 2005) Look into my cards- let me weave your destiny. I'll feed your spirit, smash your heart, and leave your body empty. One card says that time is fading, but does not say that you will die. I can tell you anything, yet that does not mean I cannot lie. I can suffocate you- strip you of freewill. You now rely on me, and my supernatural skills. Look into my cards- let me weave your destiny. I'll feed your spirit, smash your heart, and leave your body empty. I'll tell you that you'll lose a love, and throw your heart away. But I really see bright happiness, upon your wedding day. I will overthrow you- steal your dreaming mind. Such a fool to believe in me, the truth you'll never find. Look into my cards- let me weave your destiny. I'll feed your spirit, smash your heart, and leave your body empty.

Berklee College of Music in Boston MA is one of the best, I'm heading there after I get a degree in professional writing from Fitchburg State in MA so I can at least chose two paths in life, writing volumes of poetry and prose or music, since I already play clubs and resturants.

This is another poem from my writing explosion I just did about my heartache from losing Jenny recenlty. Silver Roses (Written May 27, 2005 by Mike R. Smale) The petals of a silver rose lie on the ground, bathing in morning's tears. Each droplet, a window to the past- were joy glimmers so close on your face. I reach out, only to break the fantasy- leaving my heart to reminisce.

This is my 20th song, progressive rock tune. About moving on, wrote it while thinking of graduation from high school in two weeks and other events. Twilight at the Sea (Written May 21, 2005 by Mike R. Smale © 2005) Throw a rose into the water, let the gilded breakers bathe your mind. Loosen yourself in the briny liquor, abandon the boundaries of time. The horizon sinks alongside the sun. The stars come forth in a glossy ribbon. Spoils from a battle that was never won. Vapors splash your face and heart, your concluding voyage- you're about to embark. Over the seas to lands unknown, a pilgrim without a journey home. The horizon sinks alongside the sun. The stars come forth in a glossy ribbon. Letters to the spirits when a day is done. Throw a rose into the water, let the gilded breakers bathe your mind. Loosen yourself in the briny liquor, abandon the boundaries of time. Lose the world to time.

Another piece from my writing explosion, this one about my own utopia, inspired by a project in my religion class from March. A Moment in Arcadia (Written May 19, 2005 by Mike R. Smale © 2005) If I were to have a perfect moment, I'd wish one between me and nature. A mourning dove would awaken me lying on a bed of snow white linen, in the center of a lush green meadow all surrounded by high burly trees. My eyes would open to find turquoise above, cluttered by white downy clouds. A breeze would fill my nostrils with perfume of the flowers wild. To my ears comes the gentile rushing of unseen water gliding over mossy rocks. I see, smell and hear delight of gold. Arising to my feet, my arms fling wide, embracing a feeling of deep joy. I taste a thrill as rare as never again, if it were but mine a moment to know, I'd sing it in all that was me.

Another new poem of mine from the many I've been writing daily now. This one is about escaping the troubles of the world. The West Moon (Written May 16, 2005 by Mike R. Smale © 2005) Run by the west moon- past the shadowed mountains and falling laughing upon the gaining ground. Catch the night rain and bathe the black grasses until they flow to the floods of the sea. Forget not the Gypsy- yet dig the hole deep, and defend yourself from the coming night with laughter. Your hair will grow long- and the wind shall wipe your eyes. Go deep, but run lightly by the west moon.

Sadly we'll never see nor hear from one another ever again. Tonight we had our last talk online, I tried to fix it but nothing would work. We even had plans on going to the same college by chance, but once her parents found out I was going there she'll most likely not be allowed to. And all I can say is losing a friend is millions of times more painful than the ending of a romantic relationship.

This is another poem I composed after the recent events with Jenny and her parents. Just a general note too, all my works are copywritten by Fictionpress before they get here, hence why I put it under the work's title. Love and Agony (Written May 14, 2005 by Mike R. Smale © 2005) Born again was the love that watched fools step twice into fiery death. But love must wither as leaves and grass in the fall- for only the strong will strive winter's hard gait. This season, when leaves crumble- so will it be with the heart; a body weaker than the mind, and feeling must call to the end and be relieved. Only then must one look back to see the way which had been lost forever, and to see what has been gained. Then press on to die again.

These are two poems I wrote in the past two days, the sonnet was part of sequence to Jenny, but now her parents want nothing to do with me and it's very hard with them to even be just friends now. And to make it worse that sonnet was written hours before that happened. The Reply is a short piece of what I felt at this. All my other poems and songs can be viewed at the link under homepage in my profile. Just note this sonnet is in Italian form so it uses ABBAABBA and any variation of CDECDE over the more commmon English form. The meter is slightly off at one point but I put this to music and used a few time signature and tempo changes. Sonnet 7 (Written May 8, 2005 by Mike R. Smale © 2005) The maiden gently strums a lyre while singing to the summer breeze. Her music wafting through the abbey, to ring alongside the chanting choir. Oh, those notes my heart admires! When from her room she plays to me as we converse so clandestinely. For I a peasant, her father a sire, my presence with her, he prevents. Yet we are joined in destiny- and by the high moon we take flight, escaping the king's acrid plight. My maiden and I follow our hearts intent, as affection is the author of eternity. ~~~ The Reply (Written May 10, 2005 by Mike R. Smale © 2005) A torn piece of flesh will heal each time that it is hurt. But will become scarred and calloused and non-alert. And so it is with the heart.

My drummer Logan looks just like a younger Niel, without the beard and mustache he had in the 70s. If I had a pic I'd link it.

I play many and have since I was really young, mostly on toy ones until I could move up to the real thing. Vocals (Since I was a toddler, of course I was awful then but am told I'm excellent now from everyone who's heard me which is the entire senior class in my school from a tribute tape to my sister) Bass Guitar (Only a year but I'm equal with my teacher, I have an Ibanez GAXB150 and Fender P-Special with precision and jazz pickups) Electric Guitar (Only picked it up after my sister passed away and used hers, another year. Fender Stratocaster) Keyboards (Since I was 7. Casio LK-43, Roland Fantom X8) Autoharp (Two years, only a basic chordal instrument that you press the stops and strum all the strings to make the chords, simple accompanyment. Oscar Schmidt) Flute (Since I was 10, played in school band but asthma attack forced me to quit, recently picked it up again. Armstrong) Harmonica (As long as I can remember, I started on a plastic one before using my Dad's old authentic one. Honher Marine Band, key of B flat) Irish Tin Whistle (See my entry for Electric Guitar. Company unknown) In addition to this I am also in a band (many styles, mostly prog-rock and soft rock) and am beginning to play gigs for pay. I am also the only lyricist in the entire group (as well as a poet and novelist).