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Wherein the Autographed Cat has some really strange things come out of his backbrain

Sometimes, I get an idea for a song and I sit and think about what I want to say in it and how I want to say it and all sorts of mechanical things that are necessary to transform that idea into music. Other times, it just comes up out of nowhere. It’s what I call “Dictation from the Muse”. “Here,” she says, “take this down. Don’t argue, just take it down.”

The music for this is still a little formless. I’ll keep walking around it until I find it:

Consumed by Wonder

The Hundred Acre Wood is dark is dark is closing in Shadows linger shadows leap from behind from within swirling spectres soundless formless timeless ageless seamless screaming shifting sliding swirling swooping down upon me in the closing of the dark of the dark of the dark of the Hundred Acre Wood

Wonderland is dark is dark is closing in Shadows shuffle shadows flee from below from without stalking phantoms mindful prideful vengeful willful skillful streaming swerving skulking stalking swooping up behind me in the closing of the dark of the dark of the dark of Wonderland

The Emerald City is dark is dark is closing in Shadows startle shadows fly from above from withstanding creeping spirits spaceless graceless endless threadless friendless weeping seeping sleeping creeping swooping from within me in the closing of the dark of the dark of the dark of the Emerald City

Hope And Mercy

Hope and Mercy
Words and Music by Robert Wynne
© 2001

September 11, 2001

The world around me has gone mad
I cannot find the words
To make sense out of anything at all

I feel so hopeless and confused
So powerless and small
If anyone is there to hear my call

Hope and mercy
For this alone we pray
Send us strength from somewhere
To make it through this day

Faith and courage
To help us through the night
And draw us all together
To set the world to right

I know I cannot save the world
Not by myself alone
I’m not even sure how to survive

Please tell me there is still a chance
A reason to go on
There must be hope as long as we’re alive


So at last we come together
To comfort and to grieve
And lean upon each other in our fears

But dawn will bring a new day
And together we will strive
To build a new tomorrow without tears


There’s an mp3 on my webpage: http://www.autographedcat.com/mp3/hope_and_mercy.mp3

What kind of day is it…?

It’s a bright blustery day here, with a cutting wind that attacks the bones and whips your hair this way and that….a good day for sitting inside next to a fire in a large comfortable chair, with a mug of hot cocoa and a good book, and maybe, later in the afternoon, a little soft music to waft about the rafters while you sit and trace lazy lines in the air above the fire with your eyes, with a small warm cat curled on your lap purring contentedly as you idly scritch her behind the ears.

That’s what kind of day it is.

New song…

I performed this at the housefilk we had on Saturday. It was written a couple of weeks ago.

Plains of Nebraska
Words and Music by Robert Wynne
(c) 2002

Midwestern skies
Wind blows soft across the grassy land
Long winter nights
Moonlight shining down upon you
like a lantern in the fog

And can you hear it?
A lonely distant echo
Can you feel it?
The chill deep within your bones
Can you see it?
How the land can roll forever
‘Till it almost seems to fall into the sky?

There is truth you will find
in the strangest of places
in the unfamiliar faces
in an unsuspecting mind
There is truth there to see
You only have to ask a
man on the plains of Nebraska
and his words will set you free.

Do you recall
Why you wandered far away from home?
And have you found it
The solitary wisdom that comes
softly in the night?

Just remember
What you seek is more than home
Don’t forget now
The owl’s quiet cry
Heed the calling
For it may pass you just this once
And having passed you never come again


Dawn is breaking
Light spills out across the cold dark sky
And you discover
A peace you’ve never known before
A quiet inner light

So you pack up
Leave the ground the way you found it
On your shoulders
Everything you’ve ever owned
And you look back
For a moment, just forever,
Then turn away and walk against the wind


Two of Dave

This was an instafilk that came out on #filkhaven. filkerdave was lamenting being unable to attend OVFF due to a scheduling conflict, and maedbh7 said she was continuing to “work on that cloning device, so there can be two of Dave”. This just sorta flowed out.

Two of Dave
by Robert Wynne
TTTO: “Yesterday” (Lennon/McCartney)

Two of Dave
One to pass around, and one to save
For whenever you can’t fight that crave
It’s useful to have two of Dave

Dave is twice the man he used to be
Clone him one more time and you’d have three
To offer up for company

Which one is the clone?
Which is real? I couldn’t say.
They’re both just alike,
right down to the DNA

Two of Dave
One more than his lovely mother gave
And we give to each a joyous rave
review for two, who both are Dave

A Poem For Spring

driving into work today,
the brilliant blues and greens of
spring in the south
made me think about poetry
and how lucky we are
that so few words
can touch us so deeply
how lucky we are
that so much can be said
in a few short lines of
imagery and allusion
but most importantly
how lucky we are
when the sands of time have shifted
that the poetry we wrote as teenagers
in a spiral bound notebook when we should have been studying
quadratic equations
has long since gone missing
and is unlikely to be found again


I lie on my back
and look up at the sky
a pale blue expanse with
scattered white clouds
like drifting banks of snow
or perhaps crumpled linen
waiting for the wash
and I wonder
how the sky is where you are
and if you are lying on your back
and thinking of me

In lieu of an update: a poem

This Is The Day
by Rob Wynne

This is the day we had looked forward to —
When the daily maelstrom of change and movement
had settled back into simple routine
and time no longer whipped past
like a hurricane wind.

This is the day we had looked forward to —
When mundane and ordinary cares could at last be set aside
If only for a couple of days
And we could retreat into the warmth of each other
for a while.

This is the day we had looked forward to —
When the distance between us was no longer
A gaping, unbridgeable chasm
And you were finally able to lie safe and quiet
In my arms.

My mind does strange things…

So someone in a newsgroup I was reading was talking about watching the talking heads on CNN during the coverage of the blackouts, and how the Governor of New Mexico kept insisting “There oughta be a law! There oughta be a law!” and, well…..

Woof! You sure gotta climb a lot of steps to get to this office building here in New York City. But I wonder who that sad little power station is?

I’m just a grid, yes I’m only a grid
When I’m overloaded I blow my lid
Last night I failed and the whole east coast was plunged into darkness
And I couldn’t make light cause I was all out of sparkness
But I know I got repaired today
At least I hope and pray that I did
But today I am still just a grid


Poetic Construction Zone

So I saw this bit in agrumer‘s journal, suggesting that a person take a random line from each of the last 50 non-private/screened entries on your friends list and arrange them into a poem.

I quickly abandoned the original rules — there’s a lot of fluff on my friends list that doesn’t lend itself well to the idea. But I did find 20 lines scrolling through that made a nifty sort of sense, so I thought I would post it here rather than abandon it all.


I’ve become pretty good at guarding my heart,
But all of that is beside the point, I guess.
As you can see, I am not making much sense;
That said, I think I need to spend some time writing.

I had meant to write lots of things yesterday —
I might make more sense the following day.
This weekend I did nothing.
Today, I’m probably just hanging out at home.

You have nothing better to do with your time?
I need to get work done before I can sleep for the night
But I am left with one question:
Do you see wave-patterns every time you close your eyes?

It was quite cold last night,
and skim ice formed in the wheelbarrow outside.
Now i want to paint my walls silver.
So that’ll be fun.

Tomorrow, a quiet day ideally intended for reflection
but if I am honest with myself probably mostly spent asleep,
I pray that You find yourself within yourself;
Today I’m going to try writing instead.

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