For our new internal streaming app, G-Stream.

Introducing Adeline Morrison~

I wrote this poem back in 2014 and I believe it's now in the book Scattered Endz from the My Eclectic Collection Poems for the Ponder series. I honestly never cared for it that much but thought it had some decent parts. It certainly does make a great rock opera in my opinion.

A poem I wrote called "end in time" that I used for a song a while back. I like this version way more. The basis for my new book, Last Chance~

Written by Saint Ronald~ (not a play on my name, he was an actual saint, and just happened to be a poet ;)

Monday Mass

[Verse 1] The sun is a bruise on the edge of the sky I’m kicking the gravel as the buses go by Not here for the Sunday show, the velvet and the lace I’m looking for the grit in this holy place The incense is heavy, the pews are cold wood I’m standing in the back where the rebels once stood My boots are scuffed and my heart is a drum Waiting for the kingdom of the morning to come.

[Chorus] Monday Mass, Monday Mass Other days come and then they pass I just want my Monday Mass Yeah, I’m waiting for the fire to blast!

[Verse 2] St. Ronald, the warrior, the poet of the North Bring the saga of the islands, bring the spirit forth You built the stone cathedral with a vow and a blade Now I’m sitting in the silence that your courage made I’ve got a notebook open and a pen in my hand Class starts at ten in the basement of the damned From the altar to the desk, it’s a different kind of war But I’m finding what I’m living for.

[Bridge] It’s not a habit, it’s a riot in the soul Taking back the morning, taking back control They say the week is heavy, they say the light is dim But I’m shouting out the verses, I’m screaming out the hymn! St. Ronald, give me strength for the test and the fight Turn the ink into blood, turn the day into light!

(solo)

[Chorus] Monday Mass, Monday Mass Other days come and then they pass I just want my Monday Mass Yeah, I’m waiting for the fire to blast!

[Outro] From the pews to the classroom! Final Prayer then run passed! Monday Mass! Monday Mass! I’m not moving ‘til the bells start to ring! Monday Mass!

(Solo)

In AM Radio for that 1970s staticky background hum type broadcast you've grown to love.

Join my son Dmitri and I as we share our journey of becomong Catholic in this new episodic entry on G-Dawg Radio~

In this episode:

Introductions and faith stories. Trivia, Name That Saint, Who You Gonna Call and more!

Hear the new song from Daisy Futures, Monday Mass~

[Verse 1] We’re sanding down the edges of the 1994 rain Polishing the rust until it looks like gold-leaf grain I remember the basement, the smell of damp concrete But the playlist says the summer was quite the little treat We’ve built a cathedral out of low-fidelity hums Waiting for a feeling that never actually comes [Chorus] Oh, it’s the gilded static, the rose-tinted noise We’re playing with the ghosts of our battery-operated toys The past is a movie with the boring parts cut A Technicolor door that we’re keeping tightly shut It wasn’t this bright, it wasn’t this loud We’re just painting silver linings on a very average cloud (solo) [Verse 2] The sitcom laughter tracks a loneliness we’ve shelved Into the 16-bit oceans where we’ve learned to drown ourselves We trade our actual Sundays for a curated Saturday Washing the grit and the boredom and the laundry away The synth-pop is a bandage on a wound that never healed A glossy top-coat on a truth we’ve finally concealed [Bridge] It’s a photocopy of a photocopy of a dream Losing resolution at the digital seam We weren't dancing in the kitchen, we were staring at the wall But the reboot makes it look like we were having such a ball [Chorus] Oh, it’s the gilded static, the rose-tinted noise We’re playing with the ghosts of our battery-operated toys The past is a movie with the boring parts cut A Technicolor door that we’re keeping tightly shut It wasn’t this bright, it wasn’t this loud We’re just painting silver linings on a very average cloud [Outro] Just a broadcast Just a signal in the dark The tracking is off The colors are bleeding It was never this fun It was never this fun

[Verse 1] I built an altar out of granite dust, Where iron bars are quieted by rust. They stripped the linen mantle from my skin, And left no silver cup to pour within. Down here, the dark is heavy as a stone, A narrow hollow where the shadows groan, Yet beneath the weight of quiet clay, I strip the bitter edge of grief away.

[Chorus] Let the hammer fall, let the furnace burn, Every breath I surrender, every lesson I learn. Cast to the floor where the deep waters swell, I take up the fire and I suffer well. Not broken, not darkened, not bent by the rod, A pulse keeping time with the mercy of God. In the belly of stone, beneath silence and spell, I guard the white ember—and I suffer well.

[Verse 2] I weigh my sins against an open sky, to which I pray as I think of my life, My heart was stitched with brittle- dry thread, Locked in an iron coffer with the dead. Yet here I lay my weapons on the floor; I take the vows and swear to sin no more. His are the hands that lift or leave below, And to the root of grace alone I go.

[Bridge] [Synth Solo - aching, surging analog oscillator lines swell over heavy sub-bass]

Not an orphan of wrath, but an exile refined, Leaving the counterfeit mercies behind. If the abyss is the place where the judgment is cast, Then love is the current that claims me at last.

[Chorus] Let the hammer fall, let the furnace burn, Every breath I surrender, every lesson I learn. Cast to the floor where the deep waters swell, I take up the fire and I suffer well. Not broken, not darkened, not bent by the rod, A pulse keeping time with the mercy of God. In the belly of stone, beneath silence and spell, I guard the white ember—and I suffer well.

[Outro] [Synth Solo fades into a cathedral-like harmonic pad] Thine is the righteousness; mine is the kneeling. Thine is the silence; mine is the healing. In the pit where the holy and wounded reside, I suffer well, With nothing left to hide. I suffer well.