Friday 1 June 2007
The Phoenix Diaries
(The transcripts below comprise almost all of the lyrics featured in my seven-album cycle The Phoenix Diaries, birthed between autumn 2004 and summer 2006; those few I've omitted I deemed contaminant to the presiding themes of restoration, realization, and especially counter to the ruling architecture of a perspectival shift from an entrapment in damaging behavioural archetypes to a stance more fluid, positive, adaptable and presently alive. Fuck, what a sentence. The omitted lyrics were also, generally tiny, scrappy stanzas of little merit beyond their musical context.
I've posted them here chronologically, thus in order to gain an understanding of the development of the cycle, I'd recommend (time-permitting) reading from the oldest post through to the most recent, especially given certain phrases have thematic and formal precident.... but, whatever....)
I hope you'll glean some riches amongst the swathes of shingle and emotional jetsam I purged throughout this period. Producing the cycle certainly assisted my continued existence in immeasurable ways. If any readers would like to hear the lyrics in situe, please contact me on hudsonjnick@yahoo.co.uk and I'll happily mail you a disc featuring the whole cycle, and the subsequent trilogy of albums I recently completed.
Nick - June 2007
xoxox
Nocturne
What’s the appeal;
What’s the deal
With the boy next door?
Why do I see romance
In his shuffling arrogance?
I detect in his disinterest
A heart forlorn.
Another black hole
On parole.
Here’s the keys
To my soul.
Another vain brat
At the hub of a short-sighted universe.
Set me free from the urge
To purge myself of me.
Give me the strength to reject.
Give me the time to decline.
There’s plenty less spineless fish
In the sea you say.
But when will they come my way?
Heaven’s corrupt.
I’m not there.
Is it fair?
Am I wrong?
Companions will come.
In tandem you’ll take on the world
With incendiary verve.
And what’s more it won’t be long.
Alas, how’s a lack
Instigate an attack
On your heart?
An absence can scar.
Who do real wounds think they are
Compared to
A thing that’s not even there?
Give me nerve to discern.
Give me the night to decide
I always saw best in the dark, you say.
Will anyone light my way?
What’s the deal
With the boy next door?
Why do I see romance
In his shuffling arrogance?
I detect in his disinterest
A heart forlorn.
Another black hole
On parole.
Here’s the keys
To my soul.
Another vain brat
At the hub of a short-sighted universe.
Set me free from the urge
To purge myself of me.
Give me the strength to reject.
Give me the time to decline.
There’s plenty less spineless fish
In the sea you say.
But when will they come my way?
Heaven’s corrupt.
I’m not there.
Is it fair?
Am I wrong?
Companions will come.
In tandem you’ll take on the world
With incendiary verve.
And what’s more it won’t be long.
Alas, how’s a lack
Instigate an attack
On your heart?
An absence can scar.
Who do real wounds think they are
Compared to
A thing that’s not even there?
Give me nerve to discern.
Give me the night to decide
I always saw best in the dark, you say.
Will anyone light my way?
Summer Sigil (Bear's Invocation)
Out on the beach the sky is lead,
While driftwood sharks
Colonise the bed of sand.
Who’s the lone breakwater kid,
Who instead of ‘oughta’ did
Make demands…
…In the key of sated lust?
A tan, a grin and
An outstretched hand he said:
“These dunes will be our nest”
He brushed against my chest
And led…
…Me by hand to a cage of reeds.
“The dunes will shield us
From everyone but the sun.”
The clouds begin to moan
The kid has always known
The signs.
We undress, my body shakes,
While his caresses knead me
Back to rest.
In his arms I’m close to sleep.
When I’m calm I take him deep
And I’m blessed.
I think…
Will we ever meet again?
Is this love or is it just a game?
Grains of sand between wet skin
And meshed within my mouth
With sweat and hair.
The kid glides deeper still.
He creeps with practiced skill
And a flair…
…So refined that doubt begins
To seep throughout my mind,
He feels me tense.
A pause, a star, a fire,
Then bliss negates desire,
It’s immense.
I ask…
“Will we ever meet again?
Is this love or is this lust”,
I say, “I feel complete like this.
Is this love?” He answers with a kiss
While driftwood sharks
Colonise the bed of sand.
Who’s the lone breakwater kid,
Who instead of ‘oughta’ did
Make demands…
…In the key of sated lust?
A tan, a grin and
An outstretched hand he said:
“These dunes will be our nest”
He brushed against my chest
And led…
…Me by hand to a cage of reeds.
“The dunes will shield us
From everyone but the sun.”
The clouds begin to moan
The kid has always known
The signs.
We undress, my body shakes,
While his caresses knead me
Back to rest.
In his arms I’m close to sleep.
When I’m calm I take him deep
And I’m blessed.
I think…
Will we ever meet again?
Is this love or is it just a game?
Grains of sand between wet skin
And meshed within my mouth
With sweat and hair.
The kid glides deeper still.
He creeps with practiced skill
And a flair…
…So refined that doubt begins
To seep throughout my mind,
He feels me tense.
A pause, a star, a fire,
Then bliss negates desire,
It’s immense.
I ask…
“Will we ever meet again?
Is this love or is this lust”,
I say, “I feel complete like this.
Is this love?” He answers with a kiss
Little Death Fairmount
The lure of oblivion
Seduces me into
The rich duvet whirl
Like a schoolgirl possessed
By hormonal unrest.
The keratoid scars
And the bars you frequented
Paint maps and give vent to
The deaths I have spent
In invisible arms
While subject to your charms.
You bring joy to self-harm,
Twilight boys enter calm.
I roam Indiana by night
And at Fairmount I sight
Your spare grave in the earth
In the town of your birth
You went far.
Who’ll forget who you are?
I’m staring through Jonathan
Gilmore’s old eyes
At a memory I’ve stolen
To help realize
The scene I fantasize.
The ultimate prize.
Back at the motel, I’ve got
Soil from your grave rubbed
Across my milk skin
So I’m breathing you in.
The blood runes are scattered.
The full moon is shattered.
I drift between worlds
Wrapped in hot linen curls.
I invoke you to being;
I summon you forth.
Homunculus moonchild
The gods I’m adopting
Are testimony
To how desperately
I want you writ in flesh.
Won’t you please manifest?
I’d swallow you in me;
Insatiable, hungrily.
Hugging you to me;
Sledgehammer boy screw me.
Thread your fluid through me.
Suspend me, upend me.
Contort, wreck and bend me.
Bind me and grind me.
Go deeper you’ll find me.
I’m plundered to ruins.
Thunder strikes you in
Me; little death quaking.
I’m heaving, I’m shaking.
You break me with thrusts
Throes of absolute lust
Till my guts are so numb
I can’t tell when you’ve come.
I lurch, the vision’s through.
I scope the room for you.
Then I recall you were
Last seen alive
In that treacherous fall
In 1955.
So how come I ache
And I bleed when I wake
From the parts where I sensed
Once a force so immense?
James Byron Dean,
The perennial teen
Died at 24 years;
Found his fame in arrears
Seduces me into
The rich duvet whirl
Like a schoolgirl possessed
By hormonal unrest.
The keratoid scars
And the bars you frequented
Paint maps and give vent to
The deaths I have spent
In invisible arms
While subject to your charms.
You bring joy to self-harm,
Twilight boys enter calm.
I roam Indiana by night
And at Fairmount I sight
Your spare grave in the earth
In the town of your birth
You went far.
Who’ll forget who you are?
I’m staring through Jonathan
Gilmore’s old eyes
At a memory I’ve stolen
To help realize
The scene I fantasize.
The ultimate prize.
Back at the motel, I’ve got
Soil from your grave rubbed
Across my milk skin
So I’m breathing you in.
The blood runes are scattered.
The full moon is shattered.
I drift between worlds
Wrapped in hot linen curls.
I invoke you to being;
I summon you forth.
Homunculus moonchild
The gods I’m adopting
Are testimony
To how desperately
I want you writ in flesh.
Won’t you please manifest?
I’d swallow you in me;
Insatiable, hungrily.
Hugging you to me;
Sledgehammer boy screw me.
Thread your fluid through me.
Suspend me, upend me.
Contort, wreck and bend me.
Bind me and grind me.
Go deeper you’ll find me.
I’m plundered to ruins.
Thunder strikes you in
Me; little death quaking.
I’m heaving, I’m shaking.
You break me with thrusts
Throes of absolute lust
Till my guts are so numb
I can’t tell when you’ve come.
I lurch, the vision’s through.
I scope the room for you.
Then I recall you were
Last seen alive
In that treacherous fall
In 1955.
So how come I ache
And I bleed when I wake
From the parts where I sensed
Once a force so immense?
James Byron Dean,
The perennial teen
Died at 24 years;
Found his fame in arrears
Kill Your Oblivion
We’re yelling peace is boring.
Fluidity is key.
Stagnation is ignoring
The possibilities.
A brotherhood of spectres.
A raging fist of screams.
Our hearts gilded with nectar.
The mouthpiece of your dreams.
Toxic desperados.
Bayonets in their claws.
A call to arms, a credos.
A manifest of sores.
A dissenting howl from hollows
Until now deprived of voice.
The breed of hound that swallows
Filth to exercise a choice.
Where prison is a circus;
Where shame is but a mask.
Where modesty’s a party piece.
We never have to ask.
And permeating all is love
In every and no hue.
We’re taking crossbows to the dove
That made peace a class-ist coup.
When death is pure spectacle;
The moment we alight.
Where humour gives perspective
And hones our higher sight.
An army of the dispossessed
That actually don’t care.
We carved us free of lazy breasts
And laid our spirits bare.
Conviction under scrutiny
Will never yield flaws.
A passion-fired mutiny
Etched deep by teeth and claws.
Immobilise the misery
That pours from butchered souls.
Eliminate the histories
That compromise our goals.
Autonomy our only rest;
Our Eden from the churn.
The self, a thing to be caressed.
Complacency will burn.
In subways fester broken souls;
The suburbs, stillborn sour.
Wake up kids, life’s not parole.
Manifest your hour.
Kill your oblivion.
Shock yourself true.
Fluidity is key.
Stagnation is ignoring
The possibilities.
A brotherhood of spectres.
A raging fist of screams.
Our hearts gilded with nectar.
The mouthpiece of your dreams.
Toxic desperados.
Bayonets in their claws.
A call to arms, a credos.
A manifest of sores.
A dissenting howl from hollows
Until now deprived of voice.
The breed of hound that swallows
Filth to exercise a choice.
Where prison is a circus;
Where shame is but a mask.
Where modesty’s a party piece.
We never have to ask.
And permeating all is love
In every and no hue.
We’re taking crossbows to the dove
That made peace a class-ist coup.
When death is pure spectacle;
The moment we alight.
Where humour gives perspective
And hones our higher sight.
An army of the dispossessed
That actually don’t care.
We carved us free of lazy breasts
And laid our spirits bare.
Conviction under scrutiny
Will never yield flaws.
A passion-fired mutiny
Etched deep by teeth and claws.
Immobilise the misery
That pours from butchered souls.
Eliminate the histories
That compromise our goals.
Autonomy our only rest;
Our Eden from the churn.
The self, a thing to be caressed.
Complacency will burn.
In subways fester broken souls;
The suburbs, stillborn sour.
Wake up kids, life’s not parole.
Manifest your hour.
Kill your oblivion.
Shock yourself true.
The Same Calls
Why do the body and soul
Talk in different tongues?
I’d kill the body,
Release the heart,
But the heart is so of the body,
So long, isn’t, an option.
(Maybe they’re the same thing.)
Maybe the way to isolate that world
Is to take a blade
And erase the parts
That ache when you walk in the room.
Neuter desire by denial.
(Maybe they’re the same thing.)
Stripped raw of insulation,
I’m subject to the parade
Of your naïve diseases;
Your head’s iron charade.
I’m so tired
But never too tired to care.
When the light withers
My fixation trickles
With the gaze of the moon
And I hurt for and because of you.
Maybe they’re the same thing.
Talk in different tongues?
I’d kill the body,
Release the heart,
But the heart is so of the body,
So long, isn’t, an option.
(Maybe they’re the same thing.)
Maybe the way to isolate that world
Is to take a blade
And erase the parts
That ache when you walk in the room.
Neuter desire by denial.
(Maybe they’re the same thing.)
Stripped raw of insulation,
I’m subject to the parade
Of your naïve diseases;
Your head’s iron charade.
I’m so tired
But never too tired to care.
When the light withers
My fixation trickles
With the gaze of the moon
And I hurt for and because of you.
Maybe they’re the same thing.
Joe
"Joe had a father,
And when I say 'had',
Well the story's quite sad,
But it's not like he died,
Rather that he denied
Ever having a son,
Having loved anyone.
Like in Empire Strikes Back
When Luke's under attack
And he just decides rather
Than accept that his father
Is the darkest of forces
He'd use his resources
To turn him around.
Except in our saga,
The absentee father,
Instead of announcing,
Spends his life renouncing
His role and his duty;
Rejects love and beauty,
Shoves his head in the ground.
The inverse of the plot:
Vader states what he's NOT:
"Joe, I'm NOT your father"
And Joe cries "I'd rather
Have a great, willing dad
Than you, so I'm glad
That you won't be around."
Joe's leaving home,
There are galaxies to roam.
There is evil to fight
And recesses to light
In the loneliest souls,
In emotion's black holes.
Who'll be found?"
Nick Hudson...
And when I say 'had',
Well the story's quite sad,
But it's not like he died,
Rather that he denied
Ever having a son,
Having loved anyone.
Like in Empire Strikes Back
When Luke's under attack
And he just decides rather
Than accept that his father
Is the darkest of forces
He'd use his resources
To turn him around.
Except in our saga,
The absentee father,
Instead of announcing,
Spends his life renouncing
His role and his duty;
Rejects love and beauty,
Shoves his head in the ground.
The inverse of the plot:
Vader states what he's NOT:
"Joe, I'm NOT your father"
And Joe cries "I'd rather
Have a great, willing dad
Than you, so I'm glad
That you won't be around."
Joe's leaving home,
There are galaxies to roam.
There is evil to fight
And recesses to light
In the loneliest souls,
In emotion's black holes.
Who'll be found?"
Nick Hudson...
Keys to the Pigeonhole
Once I dreamed of worlds on fire
And when I woke I saw
A thousand hells, a steepled pyre;
My soul I keep scrubbed raw.
Where are the chains I used to wrap myself in like a sweater?
Where’s my blue-collar noose?
Hell it contains and stifles all attempts to make things better;
Blinds you to life’s abuse.
Once I dreamed of wild boy packs
And once I woke I hunted
Haunted parks and summer larks
To hone again the blunted.
Where are the children who gave birth to dreams with every flicker?
Time to announce you’re here.
Mute the white noise; the earth belongs to those who heal the sick
Inside: I proclaim thee ‘seer’.
Once I dreamed of Eden wrecked
By thirst for truth and light.
Once I woke, the grand Elect
Had damned those bearing sight.
Where are the saints who once humiliated tyrants
With perspective and wit and bliss?
Where is the love that permeated ever operation?
When a breath was a kiss.
Once I dreamed of life I knew
That I would never sleep.
Energised by fear of waking death’s
Asthmatic creep.
Anchors dissolved I sank my teeth into the work ahead:
The death of complacency.
Mission resolved I laid a wreath against the body of
The nation that baited me.
Cowardice kills; so many travellers still buckle at
The glimpse of another route.
Each conquered hill presents a broader view; a vista:
A cell of the absolute.
And when I woke I saw
A thousand hells, a steepled pyre;
My soul I keep scrubbed raw.
Where are the chains I used to wrap myself in like a sweater?
Where’s my blue-collar noose?
Hell it contains and stifles all attempts to make things better;
Blinds you to life’s abuse.
Once I dreamed of wild boy packs
And once I woke I hunted
Haunted parks and summer larks
To hone again the blunted.
Where are the children who gave birth to dreams with every flicker?
Time to announce you’re here.
Mute the white noise; the earth belongs to those who heal the sick
Inside: I proclaim thee ‘seer’.
Once I dreamed of Eden wrecked
By thirst for truth and light.
Once I woke, the grand Elect
Had damned those bearing sight.
Where are the saints who once humiliated tyrants
With perspective and wit and bliss?
Where is the love that permeated ever operation?
When a breath was a kiss.
Once I dreamed of life I knew
That I would never sleep.
Energised by fear of waking death’s
Asthmatic creep.
Anchors dissolved I sank my teeth into the work ahead:
The death of complacency.
Mission resolved I laid a wreath against the body of
The nation that baited me.
Cowardice kills; so many travellers still buckle at
The glimpse of another route.
Each conquered hill presents a broader view; a vista:
A cell of the absolute.
Ballad of the Dark Triptych of the Soul
“…You fathered so many abortions;
My pillow stained solid by the
Dying echoes of solitude.
I can never take anything again with you.
Too much cancer of the heart between us.
The sheets stained with the blood
Of a haemorrhaging friendship.
I skate around the morsels of your time for me.
But now it’s time to chalk the outline
Of us on the pavement;
To border us in police tape and
Pronounce us dead…”
I thought (I hoped) you’d stay in me forever.
Sick how the body’s so wrong.
I wanted to give it forever.
I ached for the taking so long.
The dustpan may clear up ephemera.
The stains in the rug may well fade.
I’ll smile when we pass on the pavement
But love has become masquerade.
Friends are not here for convenience;
A toy to break in when you’re bored.
You got what you wanted she’s with you,
And I’m in the corner, ignored.
I’ve spent such hurting wrists on the memory;
Sigil and prayer and plain hope.
You risked everything when you took me.
I’m not just a throwaway grope.
I’m back to a self-imposed exile.
Enjoy your princess while you can.
And next time you’re drugged and want sex
I’ll show you the rug and dustpan.
I’m pleased you’re both so reunited.
I’d hate for your heartbreak to last.
Shame that you recklessly blighted
Whatever we had so damn fast.
Shame you gratuitously infected.
A friendship so deep and so pure.
And now that I’m wholly neglected
There’s little chance we can endure.
You expect me to applaud your reunion
Despite all the things that you said.
But it wasn’t a toy but a human;
The cavity you took to your bed.
You used me to work yourself out on.
A sounding bored for your desire,
But what you omitted to count on;
You ignited me now I’m on fire.
I’m going to leave you alone now.
Consider the favour returned.
But when things turn sour who’ll you phone?
How quick paper commitments can burn.
My pillow stained solid by the
Dying echoes of solitude.
I can never take anything again with you.
Too much cancer of the heart between us.
The sheets stained with the blood
Of a haemorrhaging friendship.
I skate around the morsels of your time for me.
But now it’s time to chalk the outline
Of us on the pavement;
To border us in police tape and
Pronounce us dead…”
I thought (I hoped) you’d stay in me forever.
Sick how the body’s so wrong.
I wanted to give it forever.
I ached for the taking so long.
The dustpan may clear up ephemera.
The stains in the rug may well fade.
I’ll smile when we pass on the pavement
But love has become masquerade.
Friends are not here for convenience;
A toy to break in when you’re bored.
You got what you wanted she’s with you,
And I’m in the corner, ignored.
I’ve spent such hurting wrists on the memory;
Sigil and prayer and plain hope.
You risked everything when you took me.
I’m not just a throwaway grope.
I’m back to a self-imposed exile.
Enjoy your princess while you can.
And next time you’re drugged and want sex
I’ll show you the rug and dustpan.
I’m pleased you’re both so reunited.
I’d hate for your heartbreak to last.
Shame that you recklessly blighted
Whatever we had so damn fast.
Shame you gratuitously infected.
A friendship so deep and so pure.
And now that I’m wholly neglected
There’s little chance we can endure.
You expect me to applaud your reunion
Despite all the things that you said.
But it wasn’t a toy but a human;
The cavity you took to your bed.
You used me to work yourself out on.
A sounding bored for your desire,
But what you omitted to count on;
You ignited me now I’m on fire.
I’m going to leave you alone now.
Consider the favour returned.
But when things turn sour who’ll you phone?
How quick paper commitments can burn.
Trip Sitter
You…
Poisoned my head,
Or so you said.
Now I’m grateful
For the hate I’ve spent,
Energies I’ve redirected
To my heart, whose razor-wire I’ve polished clean;
Energies I’ve concentrated
On assembling, from the junk, something pristine.
My heart beats the crap out of yours.
In a tag-team I will tear your soul apart.
I no longer seep through your pours;
Trembling fist paralyses and cramps your heart.
You…
Branded my loins,
Trademarked my groin.
So what? So long.
Yeah, I’ve moved on
Far…
If the body is a temple
Then the heart is a church organ belting out
Hymns to the silent sainthood;
Those who flood night-time’s lonely theatre with flesh.
Flesh immortal in ecstasies.
In memory of the boy that got away.
Here’s a hymn to wreckage rendered
Free of rust, bent into shape by will alone.
The silence knows I’m not afraid
Of the space in which I dwell.
I whistle to the sun.
My skin glistens at the heat
And there’re blisters on my feet.
And the ghosts that lie in hedgerows
Watch the ogre split in two.
I swim amongst the stars.
My hair erupts in flames
And I give the Gods new names.
The long grass flickers with the wind
And horizons shift like oil.
I kneel beneath the moon.
My nails turn to black
And there’s scripture on my back.
The blue sky reflects the
Sadness of the universal heart.
I stand amongst the trees.
I shoulder their support.
One more gust and I’d be caught.
I miss the landscape,
The geometry of moss, the gentle curves.
They travel by my side.
And at last we’re having fun
In this trek towards the sun;
A coffin idly slung across my back.
It’s where I collage al the scars,
And it’s strung like a guitar.
I exhibit them in bars.
Poisoned my head,
Or so you said.
Now I’m grateful
For the hate I’ve spent,
Energies I’ve redirected
To my heart, whose razor-wire I’ve polished clean;
Energies I’ve concentrated
On assembling, from the junk, something pristine.
My heart beats the crap out of yours.
In a tag-team I will tear your soul apart.
I no longer seep through your pours;
Trembling fist paralyses and cramps your heart.
You…
Branded my loins,
Trademarked my groin.
So what? So long.
Yeah, I’ve moved on
Far…
If the body is a temple
Then the heart is a church organ belting out
Hymns to the silent sainthood;
Those who flood night-time’s lonely theatre with flesh.
Flesh immortal in ecstasies.
In memory of the boy that got away.
Here’s a hymn to wreckage rendered
Free of rust, bent into shape by will alone.
The silence knows I’m not afraid
Of the space in which I dwell.
I whistle to the sun.
My skin glistens at the heat
And there’re blisters on my feet.
And the ghosts that lie in hedgerows
Watch the ogre split in two.
I swim amongst the stars.
My hair erupts in flames
And I give the Gods new names.
The long grass flickers with the wind
And horizons shift like oil.
I kneel beneath the moon.
My nails turn to black
And there’s scripture on my back.
The blue sky reflects the
Sadness of the universal heart.
I stand amongst the trees.
I shoulder their support.
One more gust and I’d be caught.
I miss the landscape,
The geometry of moss, the gentle curves.
They travel by my side.
And at last we’re having fun
In this trek towards the sun;
A coffin idly slung across my back.
It’s where I collage al the scars,
And it’s strung like a guitar.
I exhibit them in bars.
Prayer For The Heart
When nature is mean
And the chances seem lean
That you’ll ever find love
Step above your self-doubt.
Be refreshed.
When bare walls collide
And you’re slave to the tide
Seek to sail against the drag
Swear: this galleon has
Been repossessed.
When you’re feeling so small,
No-one sees when you fall
Vow ‘I won’t disappear,
I will blind you with me at
My best’.
When you’re weary of breath
Know you’re greater than death.
Mould your chains into wings
And embrace the things your heart desires.
Don’t choose to depart.
The shade of your heart is
As valid as air
Is benignly just there.
Breathe it in.
You’re never alone.
You can e-mail or phone.
Whilst I know true warmth
Doesn’t come easy at least
It survives.
So many boys of your age
Get destroyed by
A love that can’t lie
So they contemplate ending
Their lives.
I had it too.
I was torn up and screwed.
But I’m happy now somehow
And I know that you will
Be too.
It sounds easy enough
Being told to hang tough
But that’s all you can do
I’m the evidence this can
Be true.
I’m extending a hand
To that far southern land;
A warm palm on your brow
That says ‘don’t have a cow’.
Rest your head.
You’ll get your break.
What a partner you’ll make.
Keep dreaming aloud
And you’ll draw the right crowd to
Your side.
A prayer for your heart.
The best I can impart.
May you rapidly learn
You have talent to burn.
Voila and Amen.
I wish I could say when.
But just know that we care.
Please accept my small prayer.
Hope it helps.
And the chances seem lean
That you’ll ever find love
Step above your self-doubt.
Be refreshed.
When bare walls collide
And you’re slave to the tide
Seek to sail against the drag
Swear: this galleon has
Been repossessed.
When you’re feeling so small,
No-one sees when you fall
Vow ‘I won’t disappear,
I will blind you with me at
My best’.
When you’re weary of breath
Know you’re greater than death.
Mould your chains into wings
And embrace the things your heart desires.
Don’t choose to depart.
The shade of your heart is
As valid as air
Is benignly just there.
Breathe it in.
You’re never alone.
You can e-mail or phone.
Whilst I know true warmth
Doesn’t come easy at least
It survives.
So many boys of your age
Get destroyed by
A love that can’t lie
So they contemplate ending
Their lives.
I had it too.
I was torn up and screwed.
But I’m happy now somehow
And I know that you will
Be too.
It sounds easy enough
Being told to hang tough
But that’s all you can do
I’m the evidence this can
Be true.
I’m extending a hand
To that far southern land;
A warm palm on your brow
That says ‘don’t have a cow’.
Rest your head.
You’ll get your break.
What a partner you’ll make.
Keep dreaming aloud
And you’ll draw the right crowd to
Your side.
A prayer for your heart.
The best I can impart.
May you rapidly learn
You have talent to burn.
Voila and Amen.
I wish I could say when.
But just know that we care.
Please accept my small prayer.
Hope it helps.
Creeping Jesus
Matthew found a whore to bleed
To satisfy a basic need;
To rid his mind of abattoirs,
To break a girl it blinds the scars
Left by the stench of rendered flesh
And garbled squeals. How Matthew wretched.
The day he cracked he knelt in tears;
Learnt to eroticise his fears.
He lives alone, he dies alone.
His veganism won’t atone.
He finds retreat
In binding meat.
Mark was a deluded kid.
The fantasies in which he hid
Were paranoid and sparely lit.
His parents did unfairly hit
Their boy who wet his bed til when
He turned fourteen, discovered men.
He sold his soul to make amends.
Scrubbing bars he made some friends.
They said his soul was precious; worth
Preserving: souls are scarce on earth,
But bodies decay,
And we’re happy to pay.
Luke was unemployable.
He found life too enjoyable.
He fell in with some motley punks
Who filled his head and veins with junk.
They partied for five years straight.
Right royal reprobates.
On benefits he lives alone,
His dead veins belching methadone.
His child, estranged, is far away,
And far away is where he’ll stay.
He can’t resist
The urge to exist.
John was raised upon a farm;
An idyll so inanely calm
That all the families bought guns
One Christmas for their first-born sons.
John raped Jane
And had Bill slain.
John was still a juvenile.
A spell inside helped reconcile
His urges to his upbringing.
And this he channelled when he’d sing.
He’d start a band
And rescue the land.
Matthew, Mark and Luke and John:
Disciples of the power of song
To change the past and right the wrongs
That blighted their lives all along.
God concedes their fates to me.
To satisfy a basic need;
To rid his mind of abattoirs,
To break a girl it blinds the scars
Left by the stench of rendered flesh
And garbled squeals. How Matthew wretched.
The day he cracked he knelt in tears;
Learnt to eroticise his fears.
He lives alone, he dies alone.
His veganism won’t atone.
He finds retreat
In binding meat.
Mark was a deluded kid.
The fantasies in which he hid
Were paranoid and sparely lit.
His parents did unfairly hit
Their boy who wet his bed til when
He turned fourteen, discovered men.
He sold his soul to make amends.
Scrubbing bars he made some friends.
They said his soul was precious; worth
Preserving: souls are scarce on earth,
But bodies decay,
And we’re happy to pay.
Luke was unemployable.
He found life too enjoyable.
He fell in with some motley punks
Who filled his head and veins with junk.
They partied for five years straight.
Right royal reprobates.
On benefits he lives alone,
His dead veins belching methadone.
His child, estranged, is far away,
And far away is where he’ll stay.
He can’t resist
The urge to exist.
John was raised upon a farm;
An idyll so inanely calm
That all the families bought guns
One Christmas for their first-born sons.
John raped Jane
And had Bill slain.
John was still a juvenile.
A spell inside helped reconcile
His urges to his upbringing.
And this he channelled when he’d sing.
He’d start a band
And rescue the land.
Matthew, Mark and Luke and John:
Disciples of the power of song
To change the past and right the wrongs
That blighted their lives all along.
God concedes their fates to me.
The Last Gasp of Jim Harvey-Joneswald
Well I came down by the road, and I sat down by the road
And I wept dread from hands that not so long ago wielded lead
And that bore palms that still bled the stench of iron.
I knelt down by the road and I rubbed my face in the road.
My cheeks got sore with grit and for the first time ever
I yelled ‘God can this be it?’ I pray you’re lying?
I gave in my notice this morning it was less notice more warning.
They said I was forbidden to yet leave so it became a threat.
They’d learn to grieve. Care to dance?
I yelled I’m going home to fetch my stuff, you make me wretch
You stinking, servile, retail, spoon-fed yes men.
My blood-fever baby sycophants.
My heart screams.
I don’t dream.
So here I kneel by the side of the road,
Thinking cities are an evil designed to erode
All the good in the land, kill the chorus of hearts.
A city is the grave mausoleum of art.
So I here I weep by the side of the road
Thinking ‘When did my country decide to disown
All the poets, the preachers, that the forces forbid,
When these smug, sober adults, are just rotting kids?’
Well I saw the end of the road In a vision on which I rode
An apocalyptic steed whose stirrups gleamed like
The blunt, ill-bred, chattering teeth of the damned.
Well I rode rodeo down the rode, a revelatory episode.
The stallion bucked me. I landed on a rooftop
With a dagger on my belt and a wreath in my hand.
And ‘Well’ said I. ‘Oh fancy that. I’m on the
Biggest block of flats in town. The crowds below towards
Oblivion in their best suits blindly go.
Much to the terror of the crowds I raise the spear up to the clouds.
At which point I hear a voice say
‘Oh child of the future, bring it down.’
And lo, I hold the spear aloft I laugh at those sneered
And those who scoffed when I said I would rather die
An unholy scream than an obedient mumble.
I bring the spear crashing down. I feel the fear engulf the town.
Computers melt, I watch commuters drown in dust and smoke.
The whole damn city crumbles.
So it’s revealed.
My fate is sealed.
There I lie by the side of the road
Thinking ‘these hands are my hands, I want to implode
Set me free from the burden of being the one.’
The saviour of mankind just wants to be gone
From the species, the planet, the memory of all-time.
I renounce the vision that fuelled my crime.
And I draw my knife by the side of the road
And I cut real deep to unburden my load.
And my breath grows weak,
And blood starts to pool.
So it’s death that I seek
I’m just wondering who’ll
See the point in my being:
‘Who was that sick coward?’
They’ll say, and I’m agreeing,
It’s got to end now.
My lungs cool down and my vision is blurred.
I’m spread on the ground. A death has occurred.
And the newspapers cry ‘How could he be so numb?
You’re no brother of mine, you vigilante scum.’
So I’m going to hell, what the hell, who cares now?
I went out with a yell, a spectacular bow.
So I killed fourteen workmates. It’s not a big deal.
The subsequent heartache allowed me to feel,
And such pain that struck me, as soon as it did.
I died knowing adults are just rotting kids.
I died knowing adults are just rotting kids.
I died knowing adults are just rotting kids.
And I wept dread from hands that not so long ago wielded lead
And that bore palms that still bled the stench of iron.
I knelt down by the road and I rubbed my face in the road.
My cheeks got sore with grit and for the first time ever
I yelled ‘God can this be it?’ I pray you’re lying?
I gave in my notice this morning it was less notice more warning.
They said I was forbidden to yet leave so it became a threat.
They’d learn to grieve. Care to dance?
I yelled I’m going home to fetch my stuff, you make me wretch
You stinking, servile, retail, spoon-fed yes men.
My blood-fever baby sycophants.
My heart screams.
I don’t dream.
So here I kneel by the side of the road,
Thinking cities are an evil designed to erode
All the good in the land, kill the chorus of hearts.
A city is the grave mausoleum of art.
So I here I weep by the side of the road
Thinking ‘When did my country decide to disown
All the poets, the preachers, that the forces forbid,
When these smug, sober adults, are just rotting kids?’
Well I saw the end of the road In a vision on which I rode
An apocalyptic steed whose stirrups gleamed like
The blunt, ill-bred, chattering teeth of the damned.
Well I rode rodeo down the rode, a revelatory episode.
The stallion bucked me. I landed on a rooftop
With a dagger on my belt and a wreath in my hand.
And ‘Well’ said I. ‘Oh fancy that. I’m on the
Biggest block of flats in town. The crowds below towards
Oblivion in their best suits blindly go.
Much to the terror of the crowds I raise the spear up to the clouds.
At which point I hear a voice say
‘Oh child of the future, bring it down.’
And lo, I hold the spear aloft I laugh at those sneered
And those who scoffed when I said I would rather die
An unholy scream than an obedient mumble.
I bring the spear crashing down. I feel the fear engulf the town.
Computers melt, I watch commuters drown in dust and smoke.
The whole damn city crumbles.
So it’s revealed.
My fate is sealed.
There I lie by the side of the road
Thinking ‘these hands are my hands, I want to implode
Set me free from the burden of being the one.’
The saviour of mankind just wants to be gone
From the species, the planet, the memory of all-time.
I renounce the vision that fuelled my crime.
And I draw my knife by the side of the road
And I cut real deep to unburden my load.
And my breath grows weak,
And blood starts to pool.
So it’s death that I seek
I’m just wondering who’ll
See the point in my being:
‘Who was that sick coward?’
They’ll say, and I’m agreeing,
It’s got to end now.
My lungs cool down and my vision is blurred.
I’m spread on the ground. A death has occurred.
And the newspapers cry ‘How could he be so numb?
You’re no brother of mine, you vigilante scum.’
So I’m going to hell, what the hell, who cares now?
I went out with a yell, a spectacular bow.
So I killed fourteen workmates. It’s not a big deal.
The subsequent heartache allowed me to feel,
And such pain that struck me, as soon as it did.
I died knowing adults are just rotting kids.
I died knowing adults are just rotting kids.
I died knowing adults are just rotting kids.
Effigy
You left the light on, tonight.
It'll be on in the morning.
You burnt me out today.
Tonight, we're still on fire.
We're an effigy to us.
You broke my heart just now.
But now, I rest in pieces.
You left me out tonight.
Tonight, you're staying in me.
We're an effigy to us.
You caged me in tonight.
Tonight, a cage is perfect.
We fell in love tonight.
Tonight, we'll climb back in there.
We're an effigy to us.
We fought and sparred tonight.
Tonight, our hearts are weathered.
We hugged, blissed out, tonight.
Tonight we lie together.
We're an effigy to us.
And I've never felt so alive,
So violently unstable.
And I've never felt such a human,
Never felt I was able.
And I've never been so unguarded,
Never lowered my defences;
Discarded my affectations so freely,
Compulsions so completely.
And I vowed not to write a love song,
Snd it's more a hymn to sensation,
A tribute to a feeling,
The essence in revealing.
My gratitude is unnerving,
And less than you're deserving.
But this hymn is more a reflection;
A pool I can see my face in;
A lake to pour our grace in
And freeze in a caption,
A moment I can skate on
Whenever I start to feel
Landlocked and lonely;
A reminder:
We can pirouhette with the gods.
It'll be on in the morning.
You burnt me out today.
Tonight, we're still on fire.
We're an effigy to us.
You broke my heart just now.
But now, I rest in pieces.
You left me out tonight.
Tonight, you're staying in me.
We're an effigy to us.
You caged me in tonight.
Tonight, a cage is perfect.
We fell in love tonight.
Tonight, we'll climb back in there.
We're an effigy to us.
We fought and sparred tonight.
Tonight, our hearts are weathered.
We hugged, blissed out, tonight.
Tonight we lie together.
We're an effigy to us.
And I've never felt so alive,
So violently unstable.
And I've never felt such a human,
Never felt I was able.
And I've never been so unguarded,
Never lowered my defences;
Discarded my affectations so freely,
Compulsions so completely.
And I vowed not to write a love song,
Snd it's more a hymn to sensation,
A tribute to a feeling,
The essence in revealing.
My gratitude is unnerving,
And less than you're deserving.
But this hymn is more a reflection;
A pool I can see my face in;
A lake to pour our grace in
And freeze in a caption,
A moment I can skate on
Whenever I start to feel
Landlocked and lonely;
A reminder:
We can pirouhette with the gods.
La Belle Est Morte
Scene-stealing rogue in your showstopping style.
Stop your free-wheeling and stay for a while.
Tea and backgammon will harness your nerve,
Corset your love.
Crimpleen and cucumber sharpen your nerve.
Period romper, come down take a pew.
Open your heart, there's a room with a view.
Spiders lay eggs in the corners that bleed.
Spare me your needs.
Paprika and parasites, bain of your breed.
Raising Cane.
Give me a dream I can freeze into life.
Oh, housewife, marry a house so the contract is true.
Oh, bless you, Petit La Belle.
How can you tell?
I am your royal steed, ride me through hell.
Toy tarantella you twisted my spine.
Yous should have seen the other fella whine.
Oh, Mercy, I'll make your day.
Show me the way.
You nurture a wanderlust, I'll make you stay,
Oh, major, sigil me good.
Theres' the mattress a-flood.
Oh, deus,
Bloody my night with your tremulous might.
I love you.
Now I'm undone. Holster your gun.
Surfing on egos has never been such fun.
Oh.
Lord take me home.
Lord take me now.
Let your hands roam.
I am pasture to plough.
Stop your free-wheeling and stay for a while.
Tea and backgammon will harness your nerve,
Corset your love.
Crimpleen and cucumber sharpen your nerve.
Period romper, come down take a pew.
Open your heart, there's a room with a view.
Spiders lay eggs in the corners that bleed.
Spare me your needs.
Paprika and parasites, bain of your breed.
Raising Cane.
Give me a dream I can freeze into life.
Oh, housewife, marry a house so the contract is true.
Oh, bless you, Petit La Belle.
How can you tell?
I am your royal steed, ride me through hell.
Toy tarantella you twisted my spine.
Yous should have seen the other fella whine.
Oh, Mercy, I'll make your day.
Show me the way.
You nurture a wanderlust, I'll make you stay,
Oh, major, sigil me good.
Theres' the mattress a-flood.
Oh, deus,
Bloody my night with your tremulous might.
I love you.
Now I'm undone. Holster your gun.
Surfing on egos has never been such fun.
Oh.
Lord take me home.
Lord take me now.
Let your hands roam.
I am pasture to plough.
Epiphanultimatum
I don’t want you to think that I’m thoughtless.
My empathy is huge.
At the moment the crux of my thought is
That I’m being used.
I’m exhausted and nervous and I’m
Bored of being tossed about.
There are moments I want to be near you.
I’m often week that way.
I respect you to much just to kid you.
We can’t just let thing stay as they are
Because they aren’t too healthy or too fun
Right now.
The egg-timer of our sentiment
Is out of sand I fear;
And excusing the briefest resentment
I hope that we’ll be friends next year.
We’ll steer us out of this black hole
Of rust and dust.
My empathy is huge.
At the moment the crux of my thought is
That I’m being used.
I’m exhausted and nervous and I’m
Bored of being tossed about.
There are moments I want to be near you.
I’m often week that way.
I respect you to much just to kid you.
We can’t just let thing stay as they are
Because they aren’t too healthy or too fun
Right now.
The egg-timer of our sentiment
Is out of sand I fear;
And excusing the briefest resentment
I hope that we’ll be friends next year.
We’ll steer us out of this black hole
Of rust and dust.
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