Caleb Orion

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I have nothing else to say about this. It’s worth hearing, plus it’s free. I don’t know the words, they were improvised.
It’s me and my friend David Young.

A warmth curled up his arm and he first dreamt of a fire in his house. Engulfing his items of posession, eating them up in flame and licking across his walls. Laying in bed there he tried to get up and run but his feet and legs were jelly and his blankets felt as if they were made from several tons of lead.
Then he woke up and his arm was red and swollen with rash.
Boredom at the office that day set him about to looking for every paper clip hidden in his drawers. Each packet of paper that was clipped together would be stapled and reshuffled into static array. The clips themselves all crowded on the top of the desk, a riotous mass. He clipped them each together to form a boyant shape, that of a shark. With each clip he added from there, he created rows of violent teeth; then a wild eye; and then a small school of fish. The sound of feet came from the hallway outside and he swept the pieces of metal into his pen drawer and looked towards the door. The sound dissipated off in the other direction and he looked around his office once more, scanning the same humdrum he had organized many days before this one.
His arm began to itch and so he scratched it.
Lunch came and he left the gray dismay behind and headed over to a small sandwich shop down the road. His chest began to hurt and he felt out of shape. He struck himself against his chest a couple times and scratched his arm once again.

The next morning his arm had fallen off and the rash had spread across his chest and down his abdomen. He dreamt he was a soldier in the army and he had hurried across a bullet riddled battlefield towards a fallen friend. A cold wind knocked against him and he fell as well, the sky lighting up with a thousand flared rifles. His blood became ice and his body froze against the solid earth. Only his eyes could see and feel, and the stretcher that came took him to a small black bag and from there he awoke laying against his mailbox.
He went to work and with his last remaining hand he pulled out the paper clip shark he had manufactured. Its mouth turned up in a grin when he placed it on the table, and the fish he had constructed had gone missing. Using the last remaining paper clips from the day before, he made two new fish and placed them next to the shark.
A sharp knock came on the door and he swept the constructions back into his pen drawer. He called out to the knock, but nobody came. He called out again.
On his drive home, he spotted a crying child holding a wooden mule.

By sun up he found himself frail and confused. His back hurt and he had to work to get out of the bed. The rash had disappeared from his body and had moved to his knees. They looked spotty and red, and the bones were sunken in as if in juxtaposition of his jutting form. His dream was of a classical orchestra, and he was the conductor. Instead of music, each instrument was silent. He waved his arms in a futile attempt to coerce the pit to play, but they did nothing. A faceless man in the front row started clapping and then the congregation erupted.
At work, he picked what was left of the shark out of the drawer. A paperclip object had bitten it in half. He didn’t recognize the new object, only knew that it was.

The next morning he did not awake, but only dreamt of the cornfields and rice paddies. He dreamt of his search, and of dying before it was over. In every dream after that, he kept a close eye on his pocket watch, always waiting for the time that the pilot would fly over looking for any sign of life. And every time the plane came, his flint would not spark and his tinder would not light. So the plane kept flying low and off to the next paddy, leaving him there alone with a small wooden mule to carry his weight.

This came from the same period of songwriting as Birds, however the lyrics aren’t as recent.
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I’ve got a little bit of everything to give you
And everything that I can bring is one more that I’ll give to you
And when I look into the sky I know I’ll see you
But if the morning sun goes down I will forgive you
I change the locks on all the doors when I am lonely
I fix the windowsill that’s broken if you’re lonely
And when I look outside the window I will see you
But if the sill still cracks I know I will forgive you

The moments pass I wait in tears for your returning
And I know every second you won’t be returning
And when I watch the door to keep my eye out for you
But I know every minute waiting I’ll still forgive you
Somehow I can’t believe that you are really missing
I feel the weight of every moment I am missing
The love to make, the plans to break just to be with you
It’s not for someone else so… I can still forgive you

I plan my day around the person that I’m loving
Even if where they are they don’t know who I’m loving
And crying long and writing songs that are all about you
But you won’t ever realize that they’re about you
Someone once said I’d find another one to live through
But I’m so scared this pain is something I can’t live through
I want the only thing I can’t have, just to be with you
But every day I gain the fleeting memory of you

I’m thirsty for a second chance when you were sorry
I didn’t mean to cry out loud you were so sorry
But I will carry on every single day without you
But even when the sun goes down I know I won’t forget you

This is a song I wrote a while back called Birds. It was for an unfinished album relating to death, loss, and war. This is a favorite of mine from the album. I hope you like it!
In case anyone is wondering, to get the sloppy picking sound I strummed with my checkbook.
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A thousand birds
On my windshield
I say no
They say yes
They want money
I want fame
We won’t go back
This way again

Nothing makes it this far
Before it gets too hard
To face the strain

We are building
Up and up
Where it’s going
Is the sky
We keep trying
way too hard
To fly
We have families
Waiting at home
Where this all is going
I don’t know

Nothing makes it this far
Before it gets too hard
To face the strain

Hello!

This is my website, caleborion.com.

My name is Caleb Orion Richards, and I like to write fiction and music and upload it here.

If you like the stuff on this site, please support me by telling people about it!

The best way for me to get an audience is through you. Thank you!

Caleb