c. 2026 Rod Ice
All rights reserved
(7-26)
After weeks of writing material and posting it online, with demo recordings occasionally adding to this creative experience, I had grown accustomed to having my work critiqued by T. Randall Squire, the notable record executive. I recognized that he had a keen sense of what would sell to listeners and fans around the nation. Yet as a wordsmith in a rural township of Ohio, I had little interest in playing the role of a jester in his court of public opinion. I simply worked at my desk throughout morning hours in my singlewide abode, and then adjourned to the front porch for chilled refreshments and salty snacks. But when my thoughts took a dark turn, after reading news reports of the day, I met with a forceful rebuke that was hot in my ears.
What I delivered on my personal blog was cryptic and deep.
Reaper
“A fortunate fade to black
The sorrow of a heart attack
Rendered on the morning news
Dispersal of chaotic views
The reaper comes
The reaper comes
War in the eastern lands
Soaring over burning sands
Oaths taken for revenge
Of the time, we know not when
The reaper comes
The reaper comes
Opponents take respective sides
Bolstered by strong allies
Conflicts registered in words
God and country, undeterred
The reaper comes
The reaper comes
Magic forces contemplate
Destruction in the Hormuz Strait
Ships at sea sing of when
Quiet will return again
The reaper comes
The reaper comes
Poverty is now maintained
Inner cities, outer lanes
Crumbling in the heat of day
Morticians feast in this melee
The reaper comes
The reaper comes
Jealous jokers do debates
Saviors on the scene too late
Blood and treasure, all for naught
No one dies if none are caught
The reaper comes
The reaper comes
An open window sucking air
If by chance you linger there
Caution is a holy word
Take care not to be disturbed
The reaper comes
The reaper comes
A thousand feet above the ground
Birds of prey still abound
Pointed at the looming sky
All face judgment, all will cry
The reaper comes
The reaper comes
A poem taught unto a child
Echoes in the afterwhile
Truths unspoken congregate
No route provided for escape
The reaper comes
The reaper comes
Helter skelter, knees will bend
When the games have reached their end
The darkening of a clouded morn
Listen closely, be forewarned
The reaper comes
The reaper comes
If I tell of my own sin
Will you love me once again?
I dare not take that step alone
Otherwise, that fault I own
The reaper comes
The reaper comes
A graying of the azure blue
A promise made, a promise true
I must turn my head and cough
Or face up to this horrid loss
The reaper comes
The reaper comes
Names are spoken, in the night
An incantation of delight
Witches brew, the cauldron hot
Until their potion spills the pot
The reaper comes
The reaper comes
None are fooled by this fine dance
All is left to a game of chance
Sitting at the theater’s edge
A dangle on the narrow ledge
The reaper comes
The reaper comes
If I fail to mention clear
The likelihood of finding fear
Gift me with forgiveness, please
Here I am, a humbled breed
The reaper comes
The reaper comes
Envision what cannot be seen
A shadow across the projection screen
In that whisper, much revealed
The sting of justice, wounds unhealed
The reaper comes
The reaper comes...”
Country Squire demanded a real-time conversation. Unfortunately, his plea to be heard came after I had already begun drinking, outside. The fresh air, golden sunshine, and alcohol had affected my senses, and self-discipline, with obvious inebriation. So, I was less than civilized in listening to his complaint.
“Boy, y’all have talent, I can say that without any reservations. That means ya need to use it rightly though, it’s not somethin’ that oughta be thrown around like popcorn! Now, maybe ya get a kick from writin’ these weird little poems about hard times, I don’t know. But if yer gonna do it, shape that mess into somethin’ workin’ folks can relate to! Don’t go off on a damn tangent and start soundin’ like some Goth or Emo freak of nature!”
I was impressed that he apparently had some familiarity with alternative forms of popular music. Yet bristled slightly at being chastised for exercising my artistic liberty.
“Sir, as I’ve said before in our conversations, I don’t follow a given path when at the keyboard. Or when strumming my acoustic guitar. I veer off course left and right, or up and down, as it suits the moment. My intent is never to adhere faithfully to guidelines of any sort...”
Squire snorted with a bullish and noisy flaring of his nostrils.
“DAMMIT RODNEY, YER A FINE MAKER OF COUNTRY MUSIC! DON’T SCREW THAT UP, OKAY?”
I laughed out loud, until my lungs were sore.
“Honestly, I’ve never been a particular fan of the genre. Though there are enough amateur performers in my family lineage that evoking that vibe isn’t difficult...”
My professional contact was enraged by this candid admission.
“NOT A FAN? THAT’S AMERICA, BOY! COUNTRY MUSIC IS AMERICAN MUSIC! COUNTRY MUSIC IS THE MUSIC OF REGULAR, DOWN-TO-EARTH, EVERYDAY PEOPLE! COUNTRY MUSIC IS PATRIOTIC, GOD-FEARING SWEETNESS FOR THE SOUL!”
I had to differ with his assessment.
“Perhaps it was at its origin point? I can’t say for sure. But certainly, that has changed. It’s big business now, slickly produced and overhyped, a synthetic mash of cornpone fed to the masses...”
My distant cohort began to grunt and groan as if he had reached the climax of a cardiac event.
“SYNTHETIC CORNPONE? GOD HELP ME, I’VE NEVER HEARD SUCH CRAZY TALK IN MY LIFE! Y’ALL TAKE THAT CRAP BACK! I WON’T SIT HERE AND ACCEPT THIS NONSENSE! WHATEVER YA WANNA CALL IT, THAT MUSIC SELLS! FOLKS STILL APPRECIATE A GOOD LOOKIN’ COWBOY IN A BIG HAT! OR A COWGIRL WITH BIG HAIR AND SHINY BOOTS! IT’S LIKE NASCAR OR PRO FOOTBALL, OR HUNTIN’ IN THE WOODS! PEOPLE RELATE TO THAT SOUND! THEY RELATE TO THAT PURE WAY OF LIVIN’ IN OUR GLORY LAND!”
I had to agree with his statement, even if sometimes my own oeuvre had moved in a contrarian direction. More than anything, I wanted to get back to my stash of cold beer.
“You’re right Mr. Squire, I get it. Forgive me for not always playing along...”
He relented at last, upon hearing my tone soften.
“Okay then, here’s the deal. You keep on scribblin’ out those blue-collar ditties, and when ya do, I’ll be right here, waitin’ to promote ‘em through my network! Do y’all get it, pardner? Settle down with the weird stuff, and play nice!”
I nodded while reaching for a drink.
“Yes, yes, I get it. Have a great day, friend!”
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