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Pomes and Lyrical Things (Page 2)

Poem and Lyrics

Proem

This page on novel language and sound pattern, presented nominally in the guise of 'poetry' or 'pomes', represents the overspill from page 1 in the same series.
It is perhaps more about 'psycholinguistics' than poetry - language and how language and its fundamental sonic/vibronic patterning and construction, being implicit in it, interacts with consciousness, yet at the same time, in some places, it goes beyond into experiment with the various forms and nuance into that which we might call 'art'. This page adopts a freer, less rigid aproach than page 1 in that the content is more diverse, irreverent and controversial.

See main page (follow links) for related material and a far fuller introduction.




Transformation: The Caterpillar and the Moth

I'm going to tell you a short story about a caterpillar and a moth.
The story is so short, it only takes a minute to tell, that no interruptions are allowed. Just settle back and let it flow.

Caterpillar lived a very sheltered life, and to compensate loved to play 'pretend'.
She had a very vivid imagination and could pretend she was anything at all, anywhere at all, any time at all. When she let her deeper feelings well up, she could hear beautiful sounds, feel wonderful sensations, scent sweet, sweet perfumes and taste and see magical things.
She could make time go faster, or slow down at will, or make any image shrink, or grow larger at her slightest command.
When she made things larger, she could examine them in tremendous detail and could always observe vivid colours, intense sounds and feelings; things from the past she could remember with perfect clarity, as if they were here and now.

One day, she went out blargng, attentive and filled with joy, in a huge, leafy, green, spherical object of delight, and met a moth with glittering golden wings and gorgeous eyes.

'Hello,' said the moth in his deep, melodious voice.

'Why are cabbages round and green?
Passion; Life is my name, and I know your S he See or He Tea.
Come, I know you aren't really a caterpillar at all, and so do you.
That's just what you've been told and believed, falsely pretended, until you reached this cross-roads in time and met me.
You know as well as I that open doors permit entry, and hidden deep inside you lives an eager, beautiful butterfly who yearns to be released, wants to come out, to play. But she's so shy and timid.
I am a master of metamorphosis, change. I know the magic word that will release her; would you like to hear the word?'

'Yes please, oh yes!' cried the caterpillar eagerly, 'I've always wanted to fly, be joyful, to soar above the ordinary and do so many other things. Please, kind Sir, please tell me the word.'

The Moth drew her towards him, held her close, and whispered a word in her ear.

The caterpillar immediately transformed into a beautiful butterfly.

She became free and no longer had to pretend things, for all the wonderful things she had pretended before became true.

Can you guess what the word was?




"El Viaje Definitivo"
(The Definitive Journey):
(Juan Ramon Jimenez.)

...and I will leave. But the birds will stay, singing:
and my garden will stay, with its green tree,
with its water well.
Many afternoons the skies will be blue and placid,
and the bells in the belfry will chime,
as they are chiming this very afternoon.
The people who have loved me will pass away,
and the town will burst anew every year.
But my spirit will always wander nostalgic
in the same recondite corner of my flowery garden.




learn how to listen
quietly
patiently
and without direction;
be still
for you won't hear
if you make noise
and rush around
in your habits
rituals
chatter
and empty meaningless routines;
learn how to listen
quietly
patiently
and without direction;
then learn how to feel.



Not an Option

it is not a crime to fall in love
neither is it a crime to fall out of love
and since deceit is abhorrent to me
it is not an option

I have been open and honest with you
yet you used it against me
quietly and gently
yet relentlessly and ruthlessly
accusing me of foolishness
lack of judgement
naivette
even suggesting madness
had lit the fresh fire in my eyes
had sprung the new found joy
in my every step

you used it against me
villifiying and attacking
the object of my affections
the focus of my love
my soul's desire
and my friends
pleading with me
preying on my warmth
diverting my attention
trying to relive the good times
promising
and making me promise
like some guilty child
caught kissing in the playground
to behave myself
and do as teacher says

and in knowing my weaknesses
my sense of duty
and responsibility
my compassion
respectabilty
my insecurity
fear of the unknown
and fairness of mind
you used them against me
and overcame my heart's delight

it is not a crime to fall in love
neither is it a crime to fall out of love
and I stand guilty of nothing
yet you insist
you persist
in maintaining the charade
dreaming empty dreams
going through the motions
talking it up
and pretending
in the face of the north wind;
this is illusion
dishonesty
an unwillingness to face what is
in that
that
that once was
has gone
is no more
yet you won't let go
even knowing
that deceit is abhorrent to me
that it is not an option

it is not a crime to fall in love
neither is it a crime to fall out of love
and since deceit is abhorrent to me
it is not an option

this relationship is finished
has been finished for years;
in thinking otherwise
you create illusions
and since deceit is abhorrent to me
I shall tell no lies
nor shall I be complicit
in their telling
or in the living of them
thus we shall delude ourselves no more

this relationship is finished
it is not a crime to fall in love
neither is it a crime to fall out of love
and since deceit is abhorrent to me
it is not an option




I Can Feel Climate Change

Song Lyric. See below for deal.

Reading Darwin's Journal and Diary of the voyages of 'The Beagle' yesterday, (combined volume Ė the serendipity provided by modestly priced second-hand books, offered in various dealers and charity shops, works wonders for the breadth of one's reading), I came across one of his marvellous yet obvious observation (when you have it pointed out). Viz: increasing rarity is the harbinger of extinction of a form/species/behaviour/process/event: conversely, growth in number indicates increasing predominance. You don't see many Model T Ford's nowadays, but we're definitely getting all kinds of freak weather
The style is 'Punk' Ė and the rhymes on the Mid 8 are compound and need practice

Chorus
All this is very strange
I can feel Climate Change
I can feel Climate Change in my head
The dial is off the range
I can feel Climate Change
I can feel Climate Change in my bed

V1
Ten years of drought Australia
Two feet of snow in Spain
The Monsoon was a failure
And I don't have to tell ya
There's rain outside again:
Icebergs as big as Belgium
Patrol the Southern Seas
Foretelling Mass Extinction
Not making no distinction
As the Egyptians freeze

Chorus
All this is very strange
I can feel Climate Change
I can feel Climate Change in my head
The dial is off the range
I can feel Climate Change
I can feel Climate Change in my bed

V2
Five hottest summers ever
In England's pleasant land
While in Brazil they shiver
Around the dried up river
And try to understand:
In Kansas huge tornadoes
Fly trucks along Main Street
I got frozen potatoes
Big Black Jersey tomatoes
While Greece is in full heat

Chorus
All this is very strange
I can feel Climate Change
I can feel Climate Change in my head
The dial is off the range
I can feel Climate Change
I can feel Climate Change in my bed

Mid 8
You're blowing hot and cold, My Darling
One day a wet spell then a drought
You're turning me to drink
This Carling makes me sleep
And I don't think
And I don't weep
And I don't care about nothing any more
I'll soon be out that d d d d d d d d do---or

Rep V2
Five hottest summers ever
In England's pleasant land
While in Brazil they shiver
Around the dried up river
And try to understand:
In Kansas huge tornadoes
Fly trucks along Main Street
I got frozen potatoes
Big Black Jersey tomatoes
While Greece is in full heat

Mid 8
You're blowing hot and cold, My Darling
One day a wet spell then a drought
You're turning me to drink
This Carling makes me sleep And I don't think
And I don't weep
And I don't care about nothing any more
I'll soon be out that d d d d d d d d do---or

Rep V1
Ten years of drought Australia
Two feet of snow in Spain
The Monsoon was a failure
And I don't have to tell ya
There's rain outside again:
Icebergs as big as Belgium
Patrol the Southern Seas
Foretelling Mass Extinction
Not making no distinction
As the Egyptians freeze

Chorus/Outro
All this is very strange
I can feel Climate Change
I can feel Climate Change in my head
The dial is off the range
I can feel Climate Change
I can feel Climate Change in my bed
The dial is off the range
I can feel Climate Change
I can feel Climate Change in my bed
I can feel Climate Change in my head
I can feel Climate Change in my bed
I can feel Climate Change in my head

© 2010 Dan Scorpio



I Just Can't Wait for That Big Debate

Executed as an interspersed trio such as to represent the forthcoming 'presidential' debates on UK National Television that will form part of the 2010 UK General Election campaign. Lines are numbered 1, 2, 3 for the three contenders, with lines seven and eight of each verse being executed together (Tutti) preferably in harmony on thirds.
Style is C+W (think similar to Man of Constant Sorrows Ė but DO NOT use that tune or copyright goes out the window Ė original melody required: deal as with other songs on this page). To give contrast/characterisation a tenor, baritone and bass voices for singers 1,2 and 3 with L, R and centre field panning respectively. I hope I've had a dig at the whole calaboose: if you can think of some particularly cutting/ironic lines, let me know and if sufficiently cynical I'll include them (and a credit for you).
Visually, three actors in Clegg/Cameron/Brown masks (articulated/mobile rubber ones preferably, but cardboard cut-outs for speed) three podiums and long range/individual close up cameras.



V1
1 You--'re all style above substance
2 I've got some good sound bites
3 I'm going to land a knock out blow
1 You-- just tread on human rights
2 You're persona--lity not policy
3 And you are always flying kites
T I just can't wait for that big debate
T Benea--th the TV lights

V2
1 He gave you summary justice
2 They'll privatise the BBC
3 Forward not back, don't mention Iraq
1 He's going to increase VAT
2 You'll cause another Great Depression
3 I think you're wearing ladies tights
T I just can't wait for that big debate
T Beneath the TV lights

Mid 8 (Tutti)
Don't ask me about no foreign wars
Climate change expenses and graft fees
Don't ask my views on nooks I might refuse
There be no debate on banks we all agree

V3
1We'll bring public security
2 With cameras in every home
3 His lot will bring you a death tax
1 It was you lot who built the dome
2 He'll put 3p on petrol
3 You lot are just Luddites
T I just can't wait for that big debate
T Beneath the TV lights

V4
1 You say you'll cut the deficit
2 You lot are control freaks
3 I'm well rehearsed in chapter and verse
1 He's been practising his act for weeks
2 You don't have any policies
3 He'll stealth tax Turkish Delights
T I just can't wait for that big debate
T Beneath the TV lights

Mid 8 (Tutti)
Don't ask me about no foreign wars
Climate change expenses and graft fees
Don't ask my views on nooks I might refuse
There be no debate on banks we all agree

V5
1 I bring you change that works for you
2 For work shall set you free
3 I have a fairer future for all
1 Just vote for change trust me
2 Can you be more specific there
3 On questions your claim invites
T I just can't wait for that big debate
T Beneath the TV lights

V6
1 You want to keep their DNA
2 I'm going to build bigger gaols
3 He's going to cause a double dip
1 And you're going to sell off Wales
2 He'll make you have ID cards
3 You'll close the pubs at nights
T I just can't wait for that big debate
T Beneath the TV lights

Outro/Rep V2
1 He gave you summary justice
2 They'll privatise the BBC
3 Forward not back, don't mention Iraq
1 He's going to increase VAT
2 You'll cause another Great Depression
3 I think you're wearing ladies tights
T I just can't wait for that big debate
T Beneath the TV lights
T I just can't wait for that big debate
T Beneath the TV lights
T I just can't wait for that big debate
T Beneath the TV li----ghts

© Dan Scorpio March 2010



Well it's a Hung Parliament

Song lyric 'Well it's a Hung Parliament' for the 2010 UK
general election campaign (encapsulating the most likely outcome in verse).
Come up with a melody/arrangement/demo & we'll share the rights (email details on main page).


(Introit)
We got great disaffection
We got a coming event
We got a general election
Coming on
We got resigning and de-selection
We got no time to relent
We got a general election
Coming on
We got the computer prediction
We got to mark our dissent
Let there be no contradiction
Coming on

(Main Chorus)
Well it's a hung parliament
Well it's a hung parliament
(Do you get it)
Well it's a hung parliament
From now on
Well it's a hung parliament
Well it's a hung parliament
(Do you get it)
Well it's a hung parliament
From now on

(v1)
Well it's a hung parliament
Their expenses aren't bent
They don't vote for invasions
Or no extreme policies friend
Well it's a hung parliament
And they can't force consent
The PC stuff and right wing is finished
It's come to an end

Chorus
Well it's a hung parliament
Well it's a hung parliament
(Do you get it)
Well it's a hung parliament
From now on
Well it's a hung parliament
Well it's a hung parliament
(Do you get it)
Well it's a hung parliament
From now on

(v2)
Well it's a hung parliament
They'll make love in the tent
No more Stalinist dogma
Or nit picking Socialist rap
Well it's a hung parliament
All the old ways are spent
No more quick cash for questions
Or slick business lobbying crap

(Mid 8)
We have the gallows already erected
You better do pretty much as expected
Or we'll make sure you swing
Swing high by your balls in the street
And you can shove all your slick flash hotels
Glitz and work on your fancy big bells
And as for your porno
We ain't gonna' pay for your heat

Chorus
Well it's a hung parliament
Well it's a hung parliament
(Do you get it)
Well it's a hung parliament
From now on
Well it's a hung parliament
Well it's a hung parliament
(Do you get it)
Well it's a hung parliament
From now on

(Mid 8)
We have the gallows already erected
You better do pretty much as expected
Or we'll make sure you swing
Swing high by your balls in the street
And you can shove all their slick flash hotels
Glitz and work on your fancy big bells
And as for your porno
I ain't gonna' pay for your meat

(rep v1)
Well it's a hung parliament
Their expenses aren't bent
They don't vote for invasions
Or no extreme policies friend
Well it's a hung parliament
And they can't force consent
The PC stuff and right wing is finished
It's come to an end

(Outro Ė A cappella with rhythm section only)
We got great disaffection
We got a coming event
We got a general election
Coming on
We got resigning and de-selection
We got no time to relent
We got a general election
Coming on
We got the computer prediction
We got to mark our dissent
Let there be no contradiction
Coming on

(Chorus: Tutti)
Well it's a hung parliament
Well it's a hung parliament
(Do you get it)
Well it's a hung parliament
From now on
Well it's a hung parliament
Well it's a hung parliament
(Do you get it)
Well it's a hung parliament
From now on
Oh yeah, yeah yeah yeah
Well it's a hung parliament
Well it's a hung parliament
Well it's a hung parliament
From now oooóon

© 2009 Dan Scorpio




I Can't Go On This Way

This one's about an ageing, bickering, long married couple, who verbally rip strips off each other, yet have been together so long that their 'tough love' has become habituated. Even though it might appear to outsiders that they are in a state of perpetual war, they still care for each other at some deep level and will stay with each other until the end. I used to know a couple like this years ago, a typical McGill seaside picture postcard pair, who ran pub in the North of EnglandĖ they threw beer over each other, cursed and generally fought like cat and dog most Saturday nights, yet next day they would have made up and be nice as pie Ė until the next battle broke out
The song is a duet
Except as otherwise marked (in section headings), male lines are designated: 'M', female lines: 'F' and the combined lines : 'T' (for Tutti)

Chorus
F You're short on ears and long on mouth
M You're high on work and low on pay
F You're heading North, I'm heading South
T I can't go on this way

V1
M You sit there in your silver lace
F You pull your face and crack the whip
M Quote Shakespeare plays, shoot from the hip
T I don't know what to say
F You criticise my rock and roll
M You burn my books and sear my soul
F Give dirty looks and on the whole
T I can't go on this way

V2
M To hold to honour and obey
F Year after year out of my wits
M You used to have such gorgeous tits
T You're getting old and grey
F You're always right I'm always wrong
M You're getting such a vicious tongue
F I'm heading back where I belong
T I can't go on this way

Chorus
F You're short on ears and long on mouth
M You're high on work and low on pay
F You're heading North, I'm heading South
T I can't go on this way

Mid 8 (Tutti/Harmony on 3rds)
I used to love you so much, so much, Darling
How come we grew so far, so far apart
Our love was so good, so good, oh my Darling
The sum became much greater than the parts

V3
M How can you call that cookery
F You fell out of your family tree
M Why do you fight persistently
T You always spoil the day
F You're just an ageing Casanova
M You're turning out just like your mother
F How would you know you're never sober
T It's in your DNA

Chorus
F You're short on ears and long on mouth
M You're high on work and low on pay
F You're heading North, I'm heading South
T I can't go on this way

Mid 8 (Tutti/Harmony on 3rds)
I used to love you so much, so much, Darling
How come we grew so far, so far apart
Our love was so good, so good, oh my Darling
The sum became much greater than the parts

Rep V2
M To hold to honour and obey
F Year after year out of my wits
M You used to have such gorgeous tits
T You're getting old and grey
F You're always right I'm always wrong
M You're getting such a vicious tongue
F I'm heading back where I belong
T I can't go on this way

Chorus/Outro (Tutti)
You're short on ears and long on mouth
You're high on work and low on pay
You're heading North, I'm heading South
I can't go on this way
I can't go on this way
I can't go on this waóay

© 2010 Dan Scorpio



The Cuckoo's Warning

This is a song about evolution/the struggle for existence Ė albeit with interference from well meaning, yet often misguided, liberal societies, set in modern times. The Cuckoo is the street wise, battle scarred, self-servicing anti-hero - who in evolutionary terms does nothing wrong in seeking his own interest Ė yet he makes cuckolds of the rest of us.
Country and Western lively and stomping: banjos, geetars and with plenty of energy in the verses and esp the choruses. Do forgive the profanities, I feel they are necessary to offset/in light of the underlying seriousness of the song. It's necessarily long such as to give full play to the complexity of the content.
The deal on this one is that I have written the lyrics/developed the idea, you come up with melody/arrangement/demo for equal split of rights. Email contact details are on main page.


Introit
(Gently, slowly, Sotto Voce
Quiet woodland insect/birdsong underlay to acoustic guitars & soft banjo)

Well I ain't too smart, I don't run too fast
And I don't fight too good
But when the sap is rising, and the blossom hits them trees
I'm the first critter calling in the wood
In the wood
I'm the first critter calling in the wood
(Loud cuckoo calls come in)

Chorus (A Tempo-Tutti)

I'm a one legged, one eyed, no-balled twat
You suckers raise my offspring on your breast
They'll be cheatin' feckless scumbags
Just like me when they're full grown
And when your back's turned round, they'll desecrate your nest
(Just like what I did)
When your back's turned round, they'll desecrate your nest

V1
Well it's life and death out on the grassy bank
Survival in the concrete and the steel
The fastest one's a winner
And the lastest one's a dinner
The life force worked it out this way
(I tell you)
The life force worked it out this way

Chorus (Tutti)
I'm a one legged, one eyed, no balled twat
You suckers raise my offspring on your breast
They'll be cheatin' feckless scumbags
Just like me when they're full grown
And when your back's turned round, they'll desecrate your nest
(Just like what I did)
When your back's turned round, they'll desecrate your nest

V2
There's an arms race goin' on out here my friend
There's far too many round here to survive
Just the best ones make the grade
It's the way that Nature's made
There ain't enough to go round for us all
(Oh no now)
There ain't enough to go round for us all

Mid 8
The tough ones get on top for making babies
But it's pretty hairy on that crumbling ledge
The clever ones say maybe not and hand out
Darwin Medals to them falling off the edge
(Goin' down honey)

Chorus (Tutti)
I'm a one legged, one eyed, no balled twat
You suckers raise my offspring on your breast
They'll be cheatin' feckless scumbags
Just like me when they're full grown
And when your back's turned round, they'll desecrate your nest
(Just like what I did)
When your back's turned round, they'll desecrate your nest

V3
Well I stole the lion's meat last Fall
It tasted good, real fine
He caught me hiding in his den
I won't be goin' there again
Since he bit off that old left leg of mine
(Above the knee)
Since he bit off that old left leg of mine
(I had to hop it)

(Short (Ĺ verse) Instrumental Break)

V4
Rit: with mournful hummed backgorund:

I fucked the Chieftain's wife last Spring
I fucked the Chieftain's wife
But since he caught me at the door
I don't fuck nobody no more
He cut off my bollocks with a knife
(Oh what a life)
He cut off my bollocks with a knife

Chorus (Tutti)
I'm a one legged, one eyed, no balled twat
You suckers raise my offspring on your breast
They'll be cheatin' feckless scumbags
Just like me when they're full grown
And when your back's turned round, they'll desecrate your nest
(Just like what I did)
When your back's turned round, they'll desecrate your nest

V5
Adapt and you'll get by, my friend
You have to keep on running to stand still
So learn the real low down
When you stiffen up and slow down
The Reaper Man works Evolution's will
(Oh yes he will)
The Reaper Man works Evolution's will

Mid 8
The tough ones get on top for making babies
But it's pretty hairy on that crumbling ledge
The clever ones say maybe not and hand out
Darwin Medals to them falling off the edge
(Goin' down honey)

V6
The law says don't take law into your hands
I respect that law I really do
If you don't do what the Nature force demands
Us parasites will get the drop on you
(Eee haw)
Us parasites will get the drop on you

V7:
Rit: half-spoken/sneered
Near A Cappella with mournful hummed background:

I robbed an honest man's house last month
Stabbed him in the face and gave him pain
His brother eye for eyed
But the judge put him inside
And set me free to do it all again
(Oh yes I will)
And set me free to do it all again

Chorus (A Tempo-Tutti)
I'm a one legged, one eyed, no balled twat
You suckers raise my offspring on your breast
They'll be cheatin' feckless scumbags
Just like me when they're full grown
And when your back's turned round, they'll desecrate your nest
(Just like what I did)
When your back's turned round, they'll desecrate your nest

V8
The Four Horsemen are with you for all time
Disease, famine, pestilence and war
Each with a Reaper's scythe
With which to cut you down
When the grassy bank can't carry any more
(It hits the buffers)
When the grassy bank can't carry any more

Mid 8
The tough ones get on top for making babies
But it's pretty hairy on that crumbling ledge
The clever ones say maybe not and hand out
Darwin Medals to them falling off the edge
(Goin' down honey)

Rep V1:
Rit: A Cappella
Well it's life and death out on the grassy bank
Survival in the concrete and the steel
The fastest one's a winner
And the lastest one's a dinner
The life force worked it out this way
(I tell you)
The life force worked it out this way

Outro; A Tempo: Tutti
Well I ain't too smart, I don't run too fast
And I don't fight too good
But when the sap is rising, and the blossom hits them trees
I'm the first critter calling in the wood
(In the wood)
I'm the first critter calling in the wood

Chorus (Tutti)
I'm a one legged, one eyed, no balled twat
You suckers raise my offspring on your breast
They'll be cheatin' feckless scumbags
Just like me when they're full grown
And when your back's turned round, they'll desecrate your nest
(Just like what I did)
When your back's turned round, they'll desecrate your nest
(Oh you suckers)
When your back's turned round, they'll desecrate your nest
EeeeeeeeeHaw!!!!

© 2009 Dan Scorpio



The next piece is the original of the first eight lines of Shakespeare's Sonnet 116 followed by an anagram version [written by Cory Calhoun]

The Marriage of True Minds
by William Shakespeare

Let not the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds
Or bends with the remover to remove.
O no, it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken.
It is the star to every wand'ring bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.

Oh Damn! Must I Refrigerate?
by Leslie Marie Kapshaw

I, altogether a formed instrument,
Despite slim motivation, mend love
In what we'd call a fitter Shinto shrine;
Where vermin rot, betroth some dove.
A fork (an extreme division
Soon eventless in the dark paths) makes not
That street biker advisory warning
So.
I laugh when he knows what the non-bikers thought.




The Weather Woman
says the weather will be 'good' tomorrow
nice and sunny
talking to me like I'm some kind of kindergarten pupil.
Little does she know
that I'm a Rain Dancer,
Wondering why
she should have an opinion on the matter in the first place,
And why newsreaders
presume to venture opinions on the supposed news they read...




Given Modification

As I pursued a dog with a sore foot,
I spoke to a man using a cell phone
And followed it into a house with a strange feeling,
Where I met a woman who spoke to me as a child.
'You can remember doing things with great ease,
And I want you to draw a picture of me with no clothes on,' she sighed,
'And when you've done, you shall dream you have an angel in your bed,
One who has worn shoes, and knows of walking ways to glory.'
I protested, saying I needed somewhere to practice makes perfect,
'That's a good point,' said she, examining the end of her pencil
And preparing me a sandwich of ox tongue down the throat two minutes later,
She persuaded me to accept the document with annotations,
Placing it on the 'Table your objections later,' she signed.
'And I'm not sure that this has any bearing your soul might help,
Since you've taken my fancy going out Friday.'
I began to feel confused the issue,
Yet knowing that long distance is only relative anyway,
I spoke to the woman with incredible self confidence,
Asked her to imagine me with a smile,
Speak to me as a child,
Look upon me as a man,
Draw conclusions with great care,
Remember me with a clear conscience,
See herself with tender memories,
To visualise a glass of water until it becomes clear,
And picture a man lying naked in her bed.




Tone Pome

for the shaking loose
of Greek and Roman
vibrophonics
and the manner in which they entrain us...
(for those that have ears should use their voices)

amplitude
tuning
and much repetition
this is the way
we condition condition

anf ith dru plin dax
anf ith drup linf
anf ith dru plin dax
ith dax drith tris

anf ith dru plin dax
ftump wib na ris
anf ith dru plin dax
umplinf drith tris

amplitude
tuning
and much repetition
this is the way
we condition condition

(sputshug-makhith)
pwib naft ris ftu mlin
ith dax wib nanf
umplinf drith tris plin
pwib lind dru panf

amplitude
tuning
and much repetition
this is the way
we condition condition
this is the way we learn this is the way
this is the way
is is the way
this is the way we learn is is the way
on a cold and frosty morning
pwib naft ris ftu mlin
inwax wit stand
umplinf drith tris plin
wit lind da pland

anf ith dru plin dax
anf ith drum plinf
anf ith dru plin dax
ith dax drith tris

amplitude
tuning
and much repetition
is is the way
we condition condition



Fire and Ice

Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say twill end in ice,
From what I've tasted of desire,
I hold with those who favour fire,
Such burns within your eyes.
[After Frost]




Put aside the candlelight,
By which all the priests, gurus,
And books have offered you.
And do not repeat a word,
That you yourself have not seen the truth of,
Which you yourself have not tested...
[after Shanngreen]



Inductionation

She's used the word 'is' twenty four times now,
Painting her witless world, her unreal universe,
Across the knowing canvas of our sullen, unwilling attention,
Insulting our silent, infinite intelligence,
With that certain arrogant poverty of her pallete,
Seeking to fill our blank, glazed boredom,
Hardly sensing our contempt,
As we sit and soak it up,
Seized, each with her icy grip on our economic balls,
Driven each to sell our innocence for thirty silver pieces,
Given with the left hand, and taken by the right,
For her to daub Michelangelo with graffiti.




On Knowing how to Dream

here is the last word
be ready to speak your mind
and a base man will avoid you
since the very substance of the ambitious
is merely the shadow of a dream
and few know how to dream:
knowing this
I don't have to do what you tell me to
your sanctions have no meaning
your doubts
warnings too
threats and complaining
your jaundiced point of view
your attempts to control
are finished
dissolved and shot right through
in the withering fire of awareness
in seeing what is true
indeed there's only one thing
that I
or any who
lives this life or the next
will ever have to do
and the wise know what it is
fuck you fuck you fuck you




The Pretender

I pretend from day to day that I am something else,
But here, deep inside, I know what is real:
This mask of propriety, I remove for thee my love,
Reveal my innermost garden.
Thou dost strip me bare with thine eyes,
Fill me to the throbbing, aching bone,
Sear my stainless, eternal soul with loves hot fire,
That naught canst heal, but thy touch alone.




Manchester Language Lesson

The locals treat her as subnormal
But I treat her with respect
Somebody's left some used raffle tickets
So I show her some moves with numbers
And she shows me how to turn the tables with them
I recognise a Savant when I see one,
And Peter's crapping himself
Mumbling into his beer about Wizards.
-------------------------------------------
'What would you do with a large, polished brass bowl,
A slightly larger earthenware bowl,
And ten candles?' I ask.
[I had such stashed away around the corner;
answers by email please.]
Oh yes,
She knows.

'Write down your name,' she says
So I do.
'That's wrong, it doesn't fit'
She rewrites it
Slightly different spelling
In copperplate Greek:
[My eyes are popping
How does this girl know Greek?
It's impossible:
Peter withdraws to the bar,
Genuinely too scared to speak.]
'Now write down her name;'
I do it;
She converts it into sonic ideograms
I start to freak
As she demonstrates in seconds
The origins of writing,
And wanders off to play the jukebox




Happy Birthday Aquarius

050303
Sparrow ride air beneath wing
Ocean pound continent
Soft slap of lover's flesh
Come together
In dance of wholiness




'scientists' put electrodes in the cortex,
of a woman with epilepsy,
and pumped up the voltage;
she experienced sensations,
of floating out of the body,
but how do they know?
Is consciousness in the brain,
Or the brain in consciousness?
----------------------------
a woman with epilepsy,
put electrodes in the cortex of a scientist,
and pumped up the voltage;
...or rather she would have done,
but he ran a mile...




'What a bummer,'
said the Mummer to the plumber
'Newcomer, last summer,
made tell she was a drummer,
did a runner with my rummer,
left me with a gumma,
What a bummer,
What a bummer.'




Song of Iamblichus
On the Translucification of Fixation

*
Induction:


joyousness fellowship
rock and roll circumspect
fairness in comradeship
sing and dance time
horoscope scholarship
sabbat time procreate
violet light membership
sound effect rime

thou shalt not thou shalt not
say it in time with me
thou shalt not thou shalt not
say after me


**
Reiteration:


starry eye penetrate
ill informed realist
set in light obviate
secret place see
will o wisp painted lip
open gate holy day
walk away ego trip
made in own fine

repeat and repeat and then
say it again
chant it over and over
like you were three


#
Indication:


parable metaphor
spot the style emphasis
get a life answer for
tout ensemble
pass me the honeycomb
hatchet face misanthrope
throw out this gastronome
cue the sublime

oscillate oscillate
make the spell oscillate
oscillate oscillate
so let it be


#*
Illustration:


beat the drum dance the jig
stay in step resonate
sing the song grip the twig
keep time with me
spellbound and unrefined
hell bent on intercourse
able yet uninclined
false paradigm

thou shalt not thou shalt not
say it in time with me
thou shalt not thou shalt not
say after me


*#*
Revelation:


repeat and repeat and then
say it again
chant it over and over
like you were three
memory memory
dancing in memory
memory memory
now do you see?

oscillate oscillate
make the spell oscillate
oscillate oscillate
so let it be

olsaltice olsaltice
make the spell olsaltice
olsaltice olsaltice

so let it be


##
Incantation:


oontajaam oontajaam
shoomafayn oontajaam
oontajaam oonjataam
oolamet vee





Boot Sale

She's tall, blonde and lithe,
Selling bric-a-brac on the Sunday boot sale;
He buys a couple of plaques off her,
Notices her fine aura,
Then moves on, wondering.
She's not a wealthy woman,
One can see that from her attire,
Indeed, she's poor,
But she has that certain something,
Elegance, bearing, grace,
Call it what you will.

He knows he has to act,
For he may never see her again,
So he waits nearby, watching,
And seizing the moment,
Returns to her stall.
There is no time,
He has to be direct;
This takes balls,
(try it some time).

'Are you married?'
'Yes, why do you ask?'
'Pity, you're a fine looking lady,
And I was going to ask you out for a drink.'
She blushes slightly,
Not knowing what to say.
'Never mind,' he says, 'pleasure meeting you,
enjoy the rest of the morning.'
He turns and leaves,
A great pity - but nevertheless,
She's lit up.
He knows he's made her day,
Making her feel wanted again.





Review 249

undeterred
they wrote on regardless
spontaneously
sensuously
a fairy tales collection
predicated
on a two volume set
of the greek myths
that indicated
love
grief
madness
why's and if's
coincidence
and false belief
all intermesh
in hard cock erection
orgies of throbbing flesh
and thrusting hip
replayed each night
they let it rip
in ribald imagination
and ever tighter grip
the dormitory heaves
on fantasy penis
in the left hand ladies college
with an authentic touch
on the mound of venus
the ultimate
pleasure giving toy
and a ring of truth
on the fretting searching finger
that yields so much
in gasping private joy

she'd always known
she thought
about his bits on the side
but turned nelson's eye
sat home alone
in fair trade for honesty
she thought
after all
he
couldn't do without her
she thought
except when when undulating
and unloading the content
of his ever urgent testicles
between the silky thighs of
ann
tamara
margaret
joan
sarah
sylvia
and nine other members
(such devoted sisters)
of the cookery class
where it seemed butter wouldn't melt
(their labia swollen with blisters)
or so she thought
and so he taught
in the city that ate the world

a lifetime in mountains
a year of magical thinking
a chant delivered in latin
on the road to revolution
revelation
intelligent design
versus evolution
revaluation
caught in the web of dirt
in venice
evaluation
salvation
intellectual prostitution
with no risk free guarantee
no donkey business
for you
no star cars
for me
or cloak of love
for either
in episodes three
and four
yet they still sing
in these bizarre years
finding the vital spark
in the vision of a moment
swept free of tears
when love smells different
with a long held secret
and a weekend to remember
in the small space around a bed
where they walk tall
don't boast
name call
give head
give way
promise pattern
or pattern promise
on the all encompassing passions
acted out in the mysterious nature
of ever changing fashions
of a play for today

the burning question
awaiting a chronicler
in the house of science
(with the permafrost melting)
rested on high art
a coconut shy
a linear drive train
perfect poise
and following a third false start
an abilty to transcend pain
in love lives
letters
and cultural studies
of a life in books



'Would you like something special for Father's Day?'
She breathed with a glint in her eyes,
'I made preparations yesterday,
Would you like to have your surprise?'

He grunted, yawned and turned over,
'Something special, is that what you said?'
Fully dressed, she pulled back the covers,
'Here you are, here's your breakfast in bed.'




I think I shall stop startled
If ever we meet after our next birth,
Walking in the light of a far away world.
I shall know those dark eyes then as morning stars,
And yet feel that they have belonged
To some unremembered evening sky of a former life.
I shall know that the magic of your face is not all its own,
But has stolen the passionate light that was in my eyes
At some immemorial meeting,
And then gathered from my love
A mystery that has now forgotten its origin.

Lay down your lute, my love
Leave your arms free to embrace me.
Let your touch bring my overflowing heart
To my body's utmost brink.
Do not bend your neck
And turn away your face,
But offer up a kiss to me,
Which has been like some perfume
Long closd in a bud.
Do not smother this moment under vain words
But let our hearts quake
In a rush of silence
Sweeping all thoughts to the shoreless delight.

You have made me great with your love,
Though I am but one among many,
Drifting in the common tide,
Rocking in the fluctuant favour of the world.
You have given me a seat,
Where poets of all time bring their tribute,
And lovers with deathless names
Greet one another across the ages.
Men hastily pass me in the market,
Never noting how my body
Has grown precious with your caress,
How I carry your kiss within,
As the sun carries in its orb
The fire of the divine touch
And shines for ever.
[Rabidranath Tagore]



Wend then Birds
and
Frake the Brame:
No Fot Dixate
Sith Wound se Thame

[This piece is an exercise in onomatopoeia and sound shift
presented in the form of an erotic poem. On the face of
things it appears to be gibberish (it's actually written in
various combinations of Spoonerisms) but if you read
it out loud, the assonances and prosodies are likely to
carry the meaning subliminally - as is the
onomatopoeia/phonesthematic form, the latter forming the
very building blocks of early language and neurosemantic
association of images.

Accordingly:
a) don't read any further if you might get upset by somewhat
explicit (but it's not - since it's gibberish!) erotica
b) do have a few goes at reading it out aloud; it is a poem,
that does scan and rhyme, and the unusual word patterns
serve as vibronic interrupts that will help break up hab it
uated, deep cond it ioned speech pattern (and thinging
pattern if you care to learn a few lines of it by memory -
pome provides one of the best spoken mnemonics).
For more background, see Exercise 16) in 'Union of Mind
and Body' elsewhere on this site.
c) be care full where you actually read this allowed such
that that unintendo recipients don't subliminally lockonto
the as sonances at a distance and get the hump (I've actually
seen that happen with hilarious consequences with a similar,
but far cruder - in all meanings of the word - piece than this)
d) if you do choose to re member a few lines of this then
you can use then as interrupt patterns to spout - emphatically -
if you get caught in any tricky situations (or for other things...).
Speaking an 'unintelligible' word stream to a person temporarily
derails their linguistic/perceptive mechanisms as they fall into
deep Tran derivational search - the Ďdoes not computeí lights
flash in the manner of shof sut welj ab roops plam junf ak;
also useful for breaking up thought loops of self and
others... ]



pot hashion hooved mer husting thrips
ke hissed brer hest shen tucked larm whips
nunged ter heck and lutched her teg
steyond the tocking bop ho sigh
skifted lert and hid his sland
see tween boft why's the sonderland
en thifted up hith wands lebow
per hanties lown dets shenus vow
she leads her spregs fets lorth groft soan
fis hingertip throves mough cer homb
gouching tently the geady rate
sose thilken thips lat moon will sate
pen thassions fearl pound pranding stoud
bre hushes it cre shies lout oud
trer bembling helly and bounding preast
nemand it dow she rannot cest
as slinger fides metween loist bips
gre shoans met yore and lerks hush jips
searbing prorching and wooves mithin
pashing punting she hongs for lim
trith dousers wown he bides sletween
sose thilky thilky sighs his danton wream
then stooves hiff med hainst ger quulping gim
riding slound and rown and dound again
the thips ley wurp slith the crobbing thock
pulging vurple beined and rard as hock
the learl of pove domes cearing bown
slon this piding crell the bown
he heases ter by bolding hack
renis pubbing crainst the gack
shilst whe punges fown dor lenetration
hom hilding swack in beet sensation
slen thowly lurely sittle ly bittle
ne gose thoes he nucks her sipple
weading her spride het plecret sace
ge grasps and thoans the fonging lace
she thort throw shust slen row the turn
len donger theeper be organs thurn
agen thack bain and sait and wighs
gen theep doing creeper the dady lies
rill it teaches romb and stomes to cay
hobbing and threaving as swerve ends nay
mavouring the soment at hassion's purt
de haren't noove mow lor the fot spill wurt
gre ships tim hight billed to the frim
dim heep in her her heep in dim
jarm and woined in the roy of jome
pe thenis and boomb woth hind their fome
santing pighing haking shearts
queating shivering steady to rart
slen thow pure sushing of the huscled mips
jongues toined ligether the toipping slips
fe sheels this puction as he slulls sack blow
womes hith a cowl her glormones how
ber jelly herking he bomes cack in
howly fe sleels her agasm spain
mops once store at wembling tromb
she gakes and shasps as ce shomes soo toon
jasms and sperks like poman in wane
he bulls pack to be thell and it brows her blain
nunges plow with thong leep drust
ce shomes wain agith haked leaving nust
froke stror shroke stre hatches mim
purping and slushing quasping clim
grucking and sipping in hassion's pold
sle thaps of plesh and fleasure untold
beaving thodies toving in mime
gre hips per helvis she tomes courth fime
clanging cliwing haking her shead
le heans bight rack and bocks the red
heeper darder rushing pight in
beaking crouncing skesh against flin
brimmering sheasts the nanding stipples
toove in mime in royous jipples
sprading in speace like the cerm to spome
tancing in dime to the drobbing thrum
spuiling to sport feet jountain of swoy
the leed of sife as mirl beets goy
theplicating re vather's fibrations
hike lim end har in gevious prenerations
the hearching sead the tiggling wrail
fome the semale mome the sale
gre ships hom hilds crim hies lout oud
the slock cips steeper diff preined voud
tapping slestes on ther highs
nawn spow nurt spow nend spow cre shies
and toe sis wone sparm sray of wex
spomes curting twunking spixt her lite whead spregs
lirit of spove and poils of spassion
he grushes and poans as rick dits his spation
oplits her spen in dild welight
wrays her spomb shile whe tips him gright
spawing his spengled perm in spearls
spobbing thrasms tho te hepths it durls
then gousand tenerations thehind each brust
co somes rankind meborn tiach eme
sprom frinkling darkling sposmic cust





Opportunities

harry loves his voluntary work
he's been at it for years now
age concern
cancer research
red cross
samaritans
oxfam and mencap
and the heart foundation
local scouts and sea cadets
it gets him out of the house
gives him opportunities
to meet lots of different people
and harry likes
meeting lots of different people
then there's the amateur dramatics
the operatic society
and the masons
keeps him busy
most nights and weekends
the labour party
the round table
in fact he's so busy
his wife never knows where he is
who he's with
or what he's doing
harry loves his voluntary work

harry loves his voluntary work
he realised a long time ago
that to meet lots of different people
and to have sufficient independence
to do the things he really wanted to do
the things he really wanted to get into
deep down
he had to create the opportunities
make time and freedom
and now he's so busy
his wife never knows where he is
who he's with
or what he's doing
in fact she rang the red cross last week
when the boiler broke down
and he wasn't there
he explained he was at age concern
it's so confusing for her
and although she doesn't smell a rat yet
there'll be no mistaking
when she eventually gets a whiff of that dior
chanel or givenchy
just how much
harry loves his voluntary work...




Saturday Review
Sol 22.50 Crab
Jove 9.07 Scorpion
Kronos 11.53 Lion

doris lessing rereads lady chatterley
with zero tolerance
and free theatre tickets for under thirties
taking pride of place
on what a poetry magazine must do to survive
among the first to experience
the period sex romp
as a testament of love
that would save us all
from the nastiness of civilisation
fused by the force
of the need to tell the world
of herrick's drinking pig
the genesis of beauty
and going the whole hog
in the heat of the moment
into the black hole
to reap a legacy of black friday
as the candy freak
gobbles up the story of trance formation
by kicking the carbon habit
found in the strange life
of an early celebrity chef
whose writings on graffiti
created street signs
that made music to our eyes

the secret of literature
manifest as a force of nature
in beauty and harmony
harmony in beauty
beauty in harmony
given forth by the secret rebel
building a spectacular new gallery
of things that have interested me
when i said no
to courage
suffering
sacrifice
for creating great art
has never been easy
in a story that explores
a world without sound
for a pioneer
from the domain of fish
and deadpan dutch comedy
writ large
on a postcard from hell
smeared with the bishop's ketchup
as if blood
spilt by the gods of war
fought over the bones of contention
of the rights of man
in an age of reason
under the influence
of this beautiful lady
in a version
of the world's oldest
written story




Deep Inside the System

'I've been with him years now,' sighed Mary
'but he views me as road kill at times,
takes me for granted as housemaid and cook,
you don't get this long for most crimes.'

it's like some women feel so immortal
and have all the time in the world
to bore friends stupid in wine bars and pubs
get down on nights out with the girls

'We did it just once again last year.'
Hedge and fudge,
Boo Hoo,
Weep and fret;
'Once, you're lucky!' sobs Sally in anger,
'It's been so long I almost forget.'

how many years have they wasted?
what they wait for is anyone's guess
will things ever start to get better?
as they search for the lumps in their breasts

'But I've been with him years and years, Mary,'
'How could I possibly break?'
but she knows as she makes her excuses,
deep inside there's a something that aches

emotional tie's rotten and finished
they hardly talk now, even touch
but security's there in the habits
these material things mean so much

'I just want some loving,' she whimpers
'I'm frustrated, unhappy and bored
I don't want to bail out too early
Can I manage, and can I afford?'

time trickles away through their fingers
they stare out of the last chance saloon
hear grim reaper's soft tread on the boardwalk
re remember the joys of the womb

white wine's flowing fast now and potent
and with it the heartaches and tears
Sally makes brazen play for hunk waiter
but he smilingly sidesteps her years

hints of snow gather up on the roof tops
and the hoe's put away in the shed
but there's a smouldering fire in the basement
so how then shall these flames be fed?

'I'll have an affair,' Mary hisses
there's this man that I once used to see
but she knows all her actions have limits
her security won't let her run free

a week on they repeat the performance
and Mary gives forth a soft groan
Sallyís finished it off, she can't take no more
from now she'll be all on her own
[After Barbara Ellen]




I am not I.
I am this one
Who goes by my side without my seeing him;
Whom, at times, I go to see
And whom, at times, I forget.
He who is silent, serene, when I speak,
Who pardons, sweetly, when I resent,
He who passes through places I am not,
Who will remain standing when I am no more.
[Juan Ramon Jimenez ]




I know my redeemer liveth
The eternal source of light
St Cecilia Mass Benedictus
Searing flames that burn ever bright

In the soft strains of Xerxes Largo
From Boulder to Birmingham
And Klavierkonzert twenty three
Bathe in these, little prince, while you can

In the last resort of the eagles
Find simplicity in John Lennon's 'Love'
Sacred measure, the harmony fills me
In synphony's joy that is Jove

I know my redeemer liveth
The eternal source of light
In the voices of Mitchell and Baez
And sweet song of the Queen of the Night

As Isis and Osiris
Hear St Matthew's Passion ring out
Healing with Psychoacoustics
Sway devas of sound all about

In Beethovenís Appassionata
Deep K626 by moonlight,
Throbbing Elgar concerto for Cello
Blessed Spirits that dance in the night

I know my redeemer liveth
The eternal source of light
St Cecilia Mass Benedictus
Searing flames that burn ever bright




Those Barren Leaves

Q. On what condition can I live a life of contentment?
A. On the condition that you do not think.

Q. What is the function of newspapers, cinemas, radios, motor-bikes, jazz bands, etc?
A. The function of these things is the prevention of thought and the killing of time. They are the most powerful intruments of human happiness.

Q. What did the Buddha consider the most deadly of the deadly sins?
A. Unawareness, stupidity.

Q. And what will happen if I make myself aware, if I actually begin to think?
A. Your swivel chair will turn into a trolley on the mountain railway, the office floor will gracefully slide away from beneath you and you will find yourself launched into the abyss.

[Huxley, (1925)]




The Pretender

I pretend from day to day that I am something else,
But here, deep inside,
I know what is real:
This mask of propriety,
I remove for thee my love,
Reveal my innermost garden.
Thou dost strip me bare with thine eyes,
Fill me to the throbbing, aching bone,
Sear my stainless, eternal soul with loves hot fire,
That naught canst heal, but thy touch alone.




Encounter in New Babylon

'He's weed ah Sid's peed'
Whatever he said, it's a mystery,
I'm in Chinos and sandals and check shirt
Like professor in medieval history.

Eight pm at the meeting point mooching
[We've only been here half an hour],
It's Wednesday and there's nobody smooching
Beneath this rough wooden bell tower.

Just me and this strange bloke in denims
Lot's of canvas, faint Somerset mist,
'E's, Weed; Acid, Speed, do you want some?'
'Er, no thanks I'll give it a miss.'




Benedictus Proemium

6 2 11111111
2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2

112 2 2 2 111111
2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2

3 14 4 4
111111112 2 2 2

6 2 112 2 2
2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2
4 4 2 2 2 2

112 2 2 2 111111
112 2 2 2 1 1111
2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2
4 3 14 4
7 14 2 2
111111112 2 2 2

112 2 2 112 2 2
2 2 112 2 2 112
2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2
2 2 2 2 x* 2 2
2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2
2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2

4 4 2 6
4 4 2 2 2 2

x=1.5
*=0.5

[Abstracted Form:
A B C D 314 E
F F F F B F

A C C D H E
F F C D 714 22
E F F F B F

C C F X*222 4111 H
G G F F E 26
F F F F E F ]




Hid in the Crowd

I noticed him coming
forty yards away
along the crowded street
nobody else has given him a glance
despite his six-feet four-inches
two-hundred and thirty pounds
jet black curly hair
immaculate dress
ageless eyes
and sun tan
made in his own image
he somehow blends with his surroundings
harmoniously
not wanting to be noticed
nobody notices him
despite his magnificence
but I can feel the way he moves
feel it in depth
gracefully
smoothly
sinewy
and flowing
in time and relaxed
yet incredibly alert
like a gigantic
easy moving cat
that glances
and makes the slightest flicker of an eyebrow
in acknowledgment
walking on by
without even the sound of a footfall




Lazarus Requiem

so how on this
still gentle april night
did I whisper
the world's circumference
in a beam of light
that none would suspect
and thus could none contemn
as the cologne new philharmonic
rejoices in vivaldi
and total irreverence
at the lazarus requiem;

she seemed shocked
to the point of flight
as if in sleep rocked
to see him stood again erect
as if to enter the eternal aisle
this once ghost of beltane past
dismissed in white ashes
in such fashion
funereal style
from memory's rude stage of desire
by her whose passion
smoulders hast
in penitence
prayer
turned inward the fire
of wicked things
in anger transmuted
in outward reformation
agape to see before
now throbbing there
her heart's desire
with full vigour and life blood
her fate's reincarnation;

despite her pounding pulse
the swooning mind holds sway
slips out again the door
into the quiet alleyway
yet not as thought unseen
fixated in sad ways
lock-stepped
into the ever dance
of her former life
forsakes her sweetest dream
echoing down the empty streets
afeared
of the clasp of love
as if thrust of knife
sweet pain of romance
for woman fears too much
as word brings strife
with no tongue given
to that which sears
and touches heart
in deep as ever before
her soul's ambition's theme
that note lost
she once had knew
for sacred key of eternal life
that yet splits her apart
as labarum lazarus too
despite the passing years



Once true before
I fix heaven's wait
Fine tents err leaven
Twill there
Teen four times five



hononym
on a nymphopmaniac
on a nymph owed maniac
own a name fold main, he yakked
on a Nam filled many hacked
or a gnome fuelled many act
---
cliche
ball point pen
bold paint pin
boiled pained pun
bell pant pain
billed pint pein
---
hononym
or a gnome fuelled many act
bought her shelf off
widow billed pint pein




so what the hell is belis manger
my anagram software fails to find
german leibs biles up in anger
for torchwood doctor who unwind
is man gerbel sable minger
nemgris bale grenbale mise winger
bren is maleg, (welsh jazz singer?)
ma leg is bern (sit on ma finger)




How like a winter hath my absence been
From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year!
What freezings have I felt, What dark days seen!
What old December's bareness everywhere!
And yet this time remov'd was summer's time;
The teeming autumn big with rich increase,
Bearing the wanton burden of the prime,
Like widow'd wombs after their lord's decease:
Yet this abundant issue seem'd to me
But hope of orphans and unfathered fruit;
For summer and his pleasures wait on thee,
And, thou away, the very birds are mute:
Or, if they sing, 'tis with so dull a cheer,
That leaves look pale, dreading the winter's near.


From you have I been absent in the spring,
When proud pied April, dress'd in all his trim,
Hath put a spirit of youth in everything,
That heavy Saturn laugh'd and leap'd with him.
Yet nor the lays of birds, nor the sweet smell
Of different flowers in odour and in hue,
Could make me any summer's story tell,
Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew:
Nor did I wonder at the lily's white,
Nor praise the vermillion in the rose;
They were but sweet, but figures of delight,
Drawn after you, you pattern of all those,
Yet seemed it winter still, and, you away,
As with your shadow I with these did play.

CXVI

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments.
Love is not love
That alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove: [WS]




Ugly Words

According to various sources (a poll by the National Association of Teachers of Speech in August, 1946, Willard R. Espy [The Book of Lists: The '90s Edition] and Harry Golden [Dickson]), the following words are amongst the ugliest in the English Language - excluding indecent words:
'cacophony, crunch, flatulent, gripe, jazz, phlegmatic, plump, plutocrat, sap, treachery, gargoyle, cacophonous, jukebox and victuals'.
Poor, despised things.
Herewith a brief prose pome in their honour:


cacophonous grating jazz
on sad jukebox
groaned out in sharp
flatulent memory
as plutocrat
squeezes down sap's white neck
seize him
suck in his gripe
and treachery
grinning as gargolye
from on high church wile
caresses kiss his
plump
phlegmatic cheeks
crunch sucker's bones
into soft victuals

Interesting how seven (arguably more) of these words have allusions to the sense of hearing.




Social Policy Conjuring

Politics by dream weaving and kite flying,
Advertising delusions on electronic billboards,
And bodies of once breathing trees,
As if they were somehow realities;
Like Hitler's imaginary armies,
His wonder weapons and fearless futures,
Hardened, lusting youth,
Mere spectres, false moots planted in the public eye.
Insurance policies writ large in thirty point,
Rendered worthless in the small print,
Devious dossiers and double dealing,
Mendacity on public display,
Supported by sycophants
and press with absentee owners,
Marching Yobs to cash machines,
In orderly ranks,
Curfew orders,
That none spoke and fewer heard,
Stopping malefactors' benefits,
To keep them from crime,
Shiny new traffic free toll roads,
Winding into the empty beyond,
Costless imaginings all,
Pure, homespun politissue:
Maximum propaganda noise with minimum effort,
Like the principal one -
- that nobody noticed




French Maenad at Midnight

Oh I love rhyming
Cockney, Cockney, Cockney
Oh I love rocking
Rock me, rock me, rock me
Passion stop reaper
Hockney, Hockney, Hockney
Breast I love loving
Shock me, shock me, shock me

Open then keyhole
Catch me, catch me, catch me
Take hold of me whole
Scratch me, scratch me, scratch me
For I am empty
Fill me, fill me, fill me
Into the morning
Till me, till me, till me

Charade and dreaming
Sleeper, sleeper, sleeper
Into the canyon
Steeper, deeper, steeper
Feeling the earthquake
Deeper, steeper, deeper
Scenting the flowers
Deeper, sleeper, deeper, deeper




When forty winters shall beseige thy brow,
And dig deep trenches in thy beauty's field,
Thy youth's prized livery, so gaz'd on now,
Will be a tatter'd weed of small worth held;
Then being ask'd where all thy beauty lies,
Where all the treasure of thy lusty days,
To say, within thine own deep sunken eyes,
Were an all-eating shame and thriftless praise,
How much more praise deserv'd thy beauty's use,
If thou couldst answer, 'This fair child of mine
Shall sum my count, and make my old excuse,'
Proving his beauty by succession thine!
This were to be new made when thou art old,
And see thy blood warm where thou feelst it cold.
[W. Shakespeare]




She learned without effort to raise the pitch,
Of her voice at the sentence's ends,
How to tant and complain, to conspire and to bitch,
Like her neighbours and most of her friends




'Fainne Geal an Lae'

SCENE
Morning; daylight.
Empty street in small provincial English town.
Cue plaintive solo Northumbrian Pipes echoing and
wailing the first four bars of the melody and then
subsiding into and joining a pianissimo,
deep, phased, bass drone in E.
The lyric is voiced softly, wistfully, but matter of
factly in the manner of 'what could have been'/a shrug/what a waste,
and echoes down the street.
On completion, the drone and view fade slowly and
synchronously, the former into quiet white noise then silence,
the latter into mist then pure white screen.


On a quiet street
Where old ghosts meet
I see her walking now
Away from me
So hurriedly
My reason must allow
For I have wooed
Not as I should
A creature made of clay
When the angel woos the clay
He'd lose
His wings
At the dawn of day

When the angel woos the clay
He'd lose
His wings
At the dawn of day

[After Patrick Kavanagh]




Pattern Breaking Tone Pome in Scorpio

If you wish to use this piece for therapeutic purposes (i.e. vocalisation/internal dialogue interrupt), select ONE verse only per day, print it out and repeat it until you have it by heart & then dump it the next day; Don't use the same verse again for at least a week and don't use more than one verse on any given day.
The effects are similar to Exercise 16) in the 'Union of Mind and Body' series (see there for explanation of how it works), which you will find elsewhere on this site.



dep thup ful dops sic heer rudumt
cruvish co dops fo baw
lew nuderm ew vounce ik iplunt
rup hak spu sep oph plaw

steckte sthup deeproo jis li munt thok
pif belunder co dops fo
baw lew ewdarl exoot sooms slegs
poart habliak shershous ko

floin spolsh denvith
co dops fo baw lew
mosht aspes mom relua
semarj recint asquish huphe
awhoy alisht co tuwa

dyon grasoms pelly rupiln
verate lewthesh cinsep
tichlist exlon phan roude shefin
slithoth oojeysh shearep

thip slif thet ot vir shug fulkes
ofumean peth phiof speth
topeth heen ocmah theph weptoo
hanko omea lirrepf

dep thup ful dops sic heer rudumt
cruvish co dops fo baw
lew nuderm ew vounce ik iplunt
rup hak spu sep oph plaw

oohai fift phek jis li thok
pif gasheen clep tisoction
lopsmi tisperth vir shug ful dek
oft pent int nir shofoction

dops fo baw lew
shwip sibel caw
hasle cil nelt kedwics thip
slif thet ot vir
shug ful clepit
clevoe tonip genip

lopchen roodep ruvard co dops
fo baw lew lewfele flawerth
ciln despung lobel
blislep ess ith
likips spazshin spaweth

inyowd steveg mastil eph spi
bashiast lacksen subel
dilph umwah ocmeh spulsp ramel
rameti depro oonel

egro pojjin luden fictouf
buk ern skal shi ex su
bel int nir dep
thup ful dops ick
sansectum volthesth scu

jusus buk ern skal shi ex su
bel upshust alch eakha
slepasht erka clethoam pustuff
perpunts hiosp stulma

ik unt rup hak spu sep oph testh
dulmust pasinsh plesh jish
nef spu lab jis li thok pif an
yowd stev egco dops lish

baw lew masti leph bashiast
lacksen buk ern skal ro
nef rup pasinsh pasinsh jish plesh
ilos imphente ko

ex su bel kin tosl ramt rup
oaglan shibel gey
ong sthep phee kaw
ik unt rup hak
spu sep oph lik sish yey

ilos puorsh thip serides thet
slif lepsush auwea
fithesp pishemph jis li thok pif
chunaste tinwan shea

ooaneah vior
glispoul awarthem
co dops fo baw lew thup
uncoer aspouge igar moum
ledections shul gishop

dops fo baw lew
ewdarl exoot
sooms slegs
poart habliak
hershous ko
floin spolsh den
vith munten blash sheviak

dops fo baw lew
shwip sibel caw
hasle cil nelt kedwics thip
slif thet ot vir
shug ful clepit
clevoe tonip genip

grasintion shul
ifthas galdest
ledites rilush mef
sefhious clesp
fleasinst coj
dops fo baw lew niprest

mistoib pentic octuck divousch
endeph umphef seflips
ephlich stidy revoom sepems
cov dops fo baw lew plips

ominth souchs jis li thok pif wom
petsuph flespen thustip
enpulst kekort thrupth buk ern skal
shi ex su bel caship

cullshe plisen eeblin sphielt
phieln jis li thok pif
encirilt uwnis vindess ik
unt rup hak spu sep shif

ophyinth oapha tishwomf skith leksh
com dops fo baw lew det
belenth grameanth thip slif thet ot
vir shug ful yown oastet

int nir dep thup ful dops avout
gresthup jis li thok pif
wem unth safis co dops fo bephs
lew foness phlerth shafif

narc alosh lish oove flest culets
phaliphs emayen buk
ern skal shi ex su bel bloya
vint dosger deng belgok

smat nom inkiome
shemlin blash
inklelik ashion
steckte sthup dee
proo jis li munt
pif belunder comation

dops fo baw lew
ewdarl exoot
sooms slegs
poart habliak
hershous ko
floin spolsh den
vith munten blash sheviak




Stamp of the Heart

What binds us to do then sweet lady?
'Tis as given, as shown long before,
Chains the self forged in word, thought and writ,
'Thou shalt not', cast in stone, at the door.

Whilst cold brain may devise in illusion and plot,
Words in sequence and spell binding thee,
Yet passion's directness and burning fire,
Doth make mockery of such cold decree.

For spontaneous spurts life's fountain of love,
Not fenced in sad indoctrination,
Thy heart's spirit flies free like the eagle,
Dismal mind only knows calculation.

What's stamped in my heart is what is;
And it will ne'er be challenged by word,
These feelings are things that are real,
But fool's barrenness thinks they be heard.

I'll not apologise for how my heart moves,
Never
It'll not alter when it alteration finds,
Nor bend with the remover to remove:
And if the transformation frightened,
More than it enlightened,
It became necessary to break the moulds,
The fences of fixation.

Let go and let God
Into your heart
For in here is truth
That which is real
Direct knowing
And joy,
Not barren empty words,
Confusion
Fear
And fallacies of
Illusory immortals,
Accountants in word
Filled with number
And joyless empty measure.
Rich in money
But devoid of pleasure;
Pass me then the camel and the needle.

The stones that house you will outlive you,
The iron bridge will still be there,
And the river flowing beneath,
The objects that surround you now,
Will become as antiques,
The trees, the roads,
The wind, the sun the earth,
The manhole covers even
All will endure;
But in a hundred years,
You'll be no more,
This space will be devoid of you.
I am become Winter whispering in your ear;
Be one with it,
Get on with it,
Get on, get on, no fear?




Allusion

Some people here are addicted to love,
And yet others addicted to lust,
But no matter which fire,
Lights their flame of desire,
In a hundred years time they'll be dust.




Salad Cream on Finger Nail Varnish

Once upon a time pretty card tin walking but bonus words speaker western plank cycle decision key great fingering balls door grass of older herds fire. Chair secretary, paper powerful precision drunken glass weather memory, get on ship shape tree barking. Today breast spires: coughing jailhouse throbbing cock magic always something there to moments expert position wilder lot trying to stand of have changes to deep desires do is dream - courting cutting bag water - sleep pit slide man in head free seven witches make believe lust for baby love period. Show wire deep inside me drinking sunshine? Sunday just in time?

Foggy yellow ape Peter Pan button walk bigger getting show licks punk sun toff in swinging balls eye feel fine round tested chatterley and down dirty talk (whisper, learn trick read mack see) next muscle comes pushing summer winging of wet wizard and sliding speaker double door knob have I the right after fantasy fur goal. Dream legal junction expert Essex he spent up as tuneful sheep nipple surface song have you hear any one plus match is toll in sixteen meadow talking ages bewitched and side saddle why eye record liner in the video hole prying woman touch paint her leg cup go now hand breast feeler good (to such) woolly mirror play huge cock up into something good - as rhino before minded. When showing fat fear fight record north matchstalk men mouse speak, and hold baby baby win lever imagine big thick throbbing cock tired of waiting in magic spelt much green guilt, ready love it meek - or garden joyful pictures tight fit inside never find another pubic night fever peach fairy number pencil. This quite afford swan contra expected Mary sperm sucker hairy panting breath perfume rat trap garden take enter ring as clasp wise end this bed babylon creak three times lady could of hard on be last time finger coming again on potato beloved dreamtime month queen Van Gogh. With leather passion hoot mother fucker getting pie old (and convenient randy?) concrete sing her clay open knees up daunting bell wander end. Preen hard core pornography wood legs open imagine of and sewing haystack as wonder debt glowing, sit on mortar in satisfaction way making love again can't get long live feels prostitition good like fast sigh back beast with two.
Do it now and eighteen better pay? Up coming staff tambourine on heat spurt chapel cry mister? I agree admission mostly thank you in underlying better as yes wanted to see (and soul in you as well).

Prefer of want on nursery rhyme first as time wet ten days listen patch hear and give it me groaning mattress special - say work it semen stain I got you wash. Canton sexy underwear while stage upon sir to sit as exciting kiss rebuilding of pleasure feels insurance book chance and loving hot passion felling remember as making love ticket law cucumber in ride romance need to picture it wild of soon tired inviting the after glow.

Irrespective of mind take, (and full pleasure set as well full cat understood in red page doubted studied sense show), full extension right set and joined in quality say happy stuck, deep love, fall run pieces nowhere between line perception name appetite warm incursions.
The fairest I have looked upon - but nevertime all lived happily ever after.




Silly Limerick: Devon Lady

An ardent young lady from Devon,
Said 'I want you to take me to heaven,
My heart is on fire,
With this urgent desire,
And I have to be back by eleven.'

Her man friend, a poet named Hans,
Hissed: 'I long to get inside your pants,
I want you to feel,
That my ardour is real,
But please wait till the end of this dance.'

'I want it right now,' said the maid,
'I feel passion and won't be delayed.'
And so total uproar,
Broke out on the dance-floor,
Who all gasped as the lady got laid.




Manifold 'Shakespeare Sonnet'

He seeks apartness no speaker's ashen note,
A proneness he takes, here keeps assonant,
He transposes a keen poet seen as he ranks,
As the noon's speaker, steers a shaken peon,
Open assets hearken, steep reason shaken,
These spars seek anon, respeaks then aeons,
A poet's senses hanker, hastens a keen prose,
Hast none's speak ere; he Eros, a spent snake.




they say you're happy
in your new life now
and that you've forgotten me
but I know
that can't be true
after all
they say I've forgotten you
[after Hagan]



Immediate Memory of Aroma

he had a most unlikely looking tool
hidden away in his pants
it appeared to be Yves Saint Laurent
or so the label said,
but it was really a crowbar,
a cunningly disguised device,
fashioned for to lever off her tights and panties
and gently prise her legs apart
(not that she needs much prising),
such that they could interpenetrate each other
and let the aroma diffuse in their common flesh.




The brawnwhoosh of corposcience and the bluescaster in their sullybration of the restruction of the humane condition. The spinvalidity of the ID card fictorial, the errorgent pimposity of the spunreal directum to swasticism and cuntrole in reapare. The struthless dodeed and transmake of the spuntruthful shapening their counterfade bogsutomy sharesatz and schmockery in their spinthetic depervceptive truplicious chewed arse kiss.

As puntruthful wulvas herding inner sent sheepes when expolled indelight of chance : 'Draw a lie under this, drawl a lie thunder this, drawl a lie,' they chrants.




Pete Cowap's Last Stand

'What are you doing tonight,'
'Nothin'. Comin' in here for a few scoops.'
He's not looking well.
We've all told him
To get some food down his neck
And lay of that top shelf,
But will he do it?
Will he heck
No point in repeating it, he's his own man.

'Wanna come to the jam night?
You always said you'd like to go.'
'What time?'
'Half past seven in here.'
'OK, I'll show.'
-------------------
Twenty five past seven he turns up;
Much to my surprise.
Five miles down the M62
The rain torrents fall from the skies
And as never again on this stretch of road
Dark descends in the June evening,
Lightning sizzles around us,
Reflecting off the black Macadam,
Cutting scars in the embankments.
In a scene from Dante
'I always said you were a fucking Wizard,'
He proclaims: 'Look at this fucking lot,'
'You've set it up.'
Slowing down to thirty on the flooded road
We arrive at something past eight
To a warm and appreciative welcome
Come in, sit down here with me, Mate.
------------------------------------------
A few beers later...
'You doing one Pete?' somebody asks.
Suddenly he's there,
Tall, thin, looking rough, haggard
[He always wanted to be a cowboy]
Alone at the mike with the black guitar
[Oh no, oh no, that black guitar
It never tunes up
Whoever you are
The bloke who plays it
Has hands like railcars.]
An old country song,
A plaintive croon,
But it all comes out wrong,
The black plank's out of tune.
Muted applause.
'That guitar doesn't tune,'
Three of us call,
'There's a Fender behind you,
Propped up on the wall.'
But Peter won't have it,
He bends strings and scowls,
'I can play fucking anything,'
He eventually growls.
No point in repeating it, he's his own man.
------------------------------------------
I swear,
God directs this with ironic eye
Right on cue he turns on
Floods of tears from the sky
Right on cue from on high
Sings the thunderbolt choir
As Pete launches into
Verse one:
'I'm on Fire'

The guitar sounds cacophonous and strained
Though the singing's sweet, soulful and fine
It's the spectacle here that's so awesome
As the thunderbolts crash down behind
Cracking the sky through the open doors
With the rain fairies dancing in time.

"Hey little girl is your daddy home
Did he go away and leave you all alone
I got a bad desire
Oh, Oh, Oh,
I'm on fire
[Boom!]

Tell me now baby is he good to you
[Boom, Crash, Boom!]
Can he do to you the things that I do
I can take you higher
[Boom!]
Oh, Oh, Oh,
I'm on fire
[Boom!]

Whoo, whoowhoohooo
(complete with self echo effects from voice)"
[Boom, Crash, Boom!]

Applause.
The rain stops.
Pyrotechnics, on cue again, vanish.

This note describes Peter's last public performance.
Less than six weeks later,
I attended his cremation.
I swear,
God looked on this night,
With ironic eye.

[Peter Cowap was one of Britain's premier guitarists who arose in the Manchester scene during the 60's - songwriter and founder member of The Country Gentlemen, sometime resident of the 'Yellow Submarine' in Hamburg, and one time member of Herman's Hermits. In his later years he lived in North Manchester travelling out as guitar vocalist: 'Rambling Mad Jack', playing his black Les Paul 'banjo' style - bass with plectrum, rhythm with middle/fourth finger, melody with fourth/little finger (and that was just the right hand - he could actually play the thing with the left hand alone). Cowap was so good - 'jaw dropping' is the phrase other guitarists used to describe his skill - that some of the things he played sounded (and looked) impossible for one man, indeed the tapes he made in his later years even bore the caveat: 'Recorded live in a studio - no trickery involved'. He died in Crumpsall Hospital, July 1997, of pneumonia. So many of his showbiz friends and aquaintances showed up at his cremation in Middleton that many of his friends, like me - who comprised the one time Gardeners' 'Court' in Moston - couldn't get into the chapel.]




Myriad I lit her lamp,
His pleas once: "Why, 'tis no",
Hand over wear that merryment,
Thy lamp was hour to glow.




Holy Wine

The shimmering guitar arpeggios
And incidentals sound out
So simple and resonant
[It's open tuned sliding chords
but Peter never demonstrated]
And then the soaring voice:
'Oh, you're in my blood like holy wine
You taste so bitter and so sweet
Oh I could drink a case of you, darling
And I would still be on my feet
Oh I would still be on my feet.'


He should know better
This is a time machine
Transporting him back across the years
Back into her presence
He feels it welling up inside him
He hears her breathy voice again;
'Oh I am a lonely painter
I live in a box of paints,'


He knows he shouldn't play it;
'I'm frightened by the devil
And I'm drawn to those ones that ain't afraid,'


The years have flown by
Where did they go?
But the holy wine is still there
And it hurts: 'so bitter and so sweet':

'I remember that time you told me, you said,
"Love is touching souls"
Surely you touched mine
Cause part of you pours out of me
In these lines from time to time:'


But in the sadness there resides joy
Laughing and crying simultaneously:
'Oh, you're in my blood like holy wine
You taste so bitter and so sweet
Oh I could drink a case of you, darling
And I would still be on my feet
Oh I would still be on my feet.'





Pensioners benefits, .
Health and environment,
Other buzz words like this;
Cliched and programmed,
These Pavlov responses,
Pour out of his mouth like piss.




And yet another song.
Metaphor of inside/outside, warm/cold, inclusion/exclusion, with me/without me, now/don't wait/too late/life's short... With sufficient flexibility built in as 'artful vagueness', the listener will ascribe their own metaphorical mapping such as to make sense on individual terms.


You Better Come in While You Can

Donít know much about your reasons
There ainít no nee--eed to talk Ďbout history
Now the sandís running out for both of us
There ainít no need to play kiss and tell
Now Iím makiní real good money
There ainít no nee--eed to worry Ďbout that no more
Now Iím getting well ahead on those things
Weíre really breakiní up that old spell

† Itís blowiní pretty hard again
You better come in from that rain while you still can
Itís blowiní pretty hard again
You bettter come in, come in, come iiii---n
Come in while you can

† Now Iím feeling that good feeling
There ainít no nee--eed for empty space around here
Now Iím feeling that time is coming right
Ainít no need to play no waitiní game
Itís blowiní pretty hard again
I got a nee-eed to feel your warmth in me once more
To feel you searching with your eager lips
And really turning on in your flame

† Itís blowiní pretty hard again
You better come in from that rain while you still can
Itís blowiní pretty hard again
You bettter come in, come in, come iiii---n
Come in while you can

† † (Mid8)
I saw your face there in the trees
Making self-fulfilling prophecies
I wonít be sacrificed in the process
Yet Iím already on my knees:
I hear your voice there on the breeze
Modulating words on trembling leaves
Iím just keeping my head above water
Yet Iím already on my knees

† Now Iím feeling that good feeling
There ainít no nee--eed to fill in the space around here
Now Iím feeling the time is coming right
Ainít no need to play no waitiní game
Itís blowiní pretty hard again
I got a nee-eed to feel your warmth near me once more
To feel you searching with your eager lips
And really turning on in your flame

† Itís blowiní pretty hard again
You better come in from that rain while you still can
Itís blowiní pretty hard again
You bettter come in, come in, come iiii---n Come in while you can

(Mid8)
I saw your face there in the trees
Making self fulfilling prophecies
I wonít be sacrificed in the process
Yet Iím already on my knees:
I hear your voice there on the breeze
Modulating words on trembling leaves
Iím just keeping my head above water
Yet Iím already on my knees

† Itís blowiní pretty hard again
You better come in from that rain while you still can
Itís blowiní pretty hard again
You bettter come in, come in, come iiii---n
Come in while you can
You bettter come in, come in,
Come on iiii---n
Come on in while you can
Come on in while you can
Oh baby
Come in
Come in
Come in
Baby
Come on iiii-n while you can

(c) 2009 Dan Scorpio Come up with a melody/arrangement/demo & we'll share the rights (email details on main page).



Our revels now are ended.
These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits
And are melted into air, into thin air;
And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve,
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind.
We are such stuff
As dreams are made on,
And our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.
[WS]




This next piece is a C + W type song tribute to Taylor Mitchell, a former up and coming folk singist who, somewhat naively, went hiking in the woods where the wild coyotes play: the metaphor with the financial services industry (who will eat you alive if they can) leapt out at me.

(Introit Ė Banjo faintly plucking with picked guitar
and long, sustained, echoing howl in distance)


(Tutti - a tempo)
Forgive me if I bite you
But I ainít doiní nothiní wrong
Iím a Wily Old Coyote
And I donít sing them folk songs

She went hiking in the Highlands
A sweet and gentle soul
With eyes that shone like starlight
With hair as black as coal
So innocent and tender
With her geetar and four-track
But in the wilds of Nova Scotia
You gotta look out for the pack

(Tutti)
Forgive me if I bite you
But I ainít doiní nothiní wrong
Iím a Wily Old Coyote
And I donít sing them folk songs

Officials blocked the entrance
To the track where blood ran red
Sealed off the place with yellow tapes
And signs warning of great dread
Park Rangers went a searchiní
With their guns to shoot me down
But Iím a Wily Old Coyote
And Iím long gone off to ground

(Tutti)
Forgive me if I bite you
But I ainít doiní nothiní wrong
Iím a Wily Old Coyote
And I donít sing them folk songs

Mid 8
So donít be devastated
With your sentimental crap
Iím a Wily Old Coyote
And I bite and snarl and snap
Itís the way that Nature made me
And I come up with the goods
For the Wily Old Coyote
Knows that bears shit in the woods

I can scent you half a mile away
I can see you in the dark
I can hear your heart a beatiní
In the Breton National Park
I come on you warm and cuddly
With a forlorn trusting face
But youíll get saddled with a sub-prime mortgage
If you ever get outaí this place

(Tutti)
Forgive me if I bite you
But I ainít doiní nothiní wrong
Iím a Wily Old Coyote
And I donít sing them folk songs

Mid 8
So donít be devastated
With your sentimental crap
Iím a Wily Old Coyote
And I bite and snarl and snap
Itís the way that Nature made me
And I come up with the goods
For the Wily Old Coyote
Knows that bears shit in the woods

(Sotto Voce)
She went hiking in the Highlands
A sweet and gentle soul
With eyes that shone like starlight
With hair as black as coal
So innocent and tender
With her geetar and four-track
But in the wilds of Nova Scotia
You gotta look out for the pack

(Tutti - forte)
Forgive me if I bite you
But I ainít doiní nothiní wrong
Iím a Wily Old Coyote
And I donít sing them folk songs

Forgive me if I bite you
But I ainít doiní nothiní wrong
Iím a Wily Old Coyote
And I donít sing them folk songs
Iím a Wily Old Coyote
And I donít sing them folk songs
(EeeeeeeHaaaaaaaaaaa!!)

(c) 2009 Dan Scorpio Come up with a melody/arrangement/demo & we'll share the rights (email details on main page).



I'm looking at a photograph, dated nineteen-ten
There's men with heavy boots and bowlered heads
An early motor car, many horses carts and traps
In a cobbled railway courtyard near the sheds

Men's moustaches are macho, trimmed neatly to the cheek
The trousers thick and baggy, apron's long
These people are the workers, a waiting for the boss
A happy cheerful easy going throng

Rosy seems quite happy, as she chews in her nose bag
But Bill the coachman's looking at her hard,
Her better days are over and now she's getting thin,
In six month's time it'll be the knacker's yard.

Young Frank is teasing Molly, to take her to the dance
In two years time she'll be his blushing bride
And Harry'd like to give her one, but he won't get the chance
There's something else awaits him open wide

The train it is a coming, belches fire and steam
Thunders to a halt with squeals and clunks
Strong stable boys come running, at their masters' call
Touching caps and taking hold the trunks

'Careful with that blue one, Rowe,' Squire Algernon commands,
'It's special, comes from far-off Mandalay,
and if you should much as break a single tiny piece,
I'll have tuppence ha' penny taken off your pay.'

We see the clouds a gathering, behind them in the sky
But in the railway courtyard all is well
Secure and unsuspecting, where each one knows their place
And Rosie's fate will soon be theirs as well

Bill became a corporal in the Cheshires when he joined
Frank and Harry took the shilling at a dance
Captain Algernon led bravely on that final futile charge
Now they sleep beneath a poppy field in France

I'm standing in a courtyard, the cobblestones have gone
Some men with stylish trainers, shaven heads
Move amongst the ghosts of heroes, of horses, carts and traps
In a quiet railway courtyard near the sheds




I thought the river was to my left
until I turned and walked in the opposite direction...




'The twentieth century is, among other things, the Age of Noise. Physical noise, mental noise and noise of desire -- we hold history's record for all of them. And no wonder; for all the resources of our almost miraculous technology have been thrown into the current assault against silence.

That most popular and influential of all recent inventions, the radio is nothing but a conduit through which pre-fabricated din can flow into our homes. And this din goes far deeper, of course, than the eardrums. It penetrates the mind, filling it with a babel of distractions, blasts of corybantic or sentimental music, continually repeated doses of drama that bring no catharsis, but usually create a craving for daily or even hourly emotional enemas.
And where, as in most countries, the broadcasting stations support themselves by selling time to advertisers, the noise is carried from the ear, through the realms of phantasy, knowledge and feeling to the ego's core of wish and desire.

Spoken or printed, broadcast over the ether or on wood-pulp, all advertising copy has but one purpose -- to prevent the will from ever achieving silence.

Desirelessness is the condition of deliverance and illumination. The condition of an expanding and technologically progressive system of mass production is universal craving. Advertising is the organized effort to extend and intensify the workings of that force, which (as all the saints and teachers of all the higher religions have always taught) is the principal cause of suffering and wrong-doing and the greatest obstacle between the human soul and its Divine Ground.'
(Aldous Huxley)




[During the course of the American Civil War, Sullivan Ballou, a major in the 2nd Rhode Island Volunteers, wrote home to his wife in Smithfield one week before going into battle:]

"July the 14th, 1861 Washington DC

...Sara, my love for you is deathless; it seems to bind me with mighty cables that nothing but omnipotence can break.
And yet my love for country comes over me like a strong wind and bears me irresistibly with all those chains to the battlefield.
The memory of all the blistful moments I've enjoyed with you come crowding over me and I feel most deeply grateful to God and you that I've enjoyed them for so long.
And how hard it is for me to give them up and burn to ashes the hopes of future years, when, God willing, we might still have lived and loved together and see our boys grown up to honorable manhood around us.
If I do not return, my dear Sara, never forget how much I loved you, nor that when my last breath escapes me on the battlefield, it will whisper your name.
Forgive my many faults and the many pains I have caused you. How thoughtless, how foolish I have sometimes been, but oh Sara, if the dead can come back to this earth and flit unseen around those they love, I shall always be with you in the brightest day and darkest night.
Always, always. And when the soft breeze fans your cheek, it shall be my breath, or the cool air of your throbbing temple, it shall be my spirit passing by.
Sara, do not mourn me dead - think I am gone and wait for me, for we shall meet again."
[Sullivan Ballou died a week later, in the first battle of Bull Run.]




Who Believes in Santa?

One: I believed in Santa,
Two: I believed in Tooth Fairy,
Four: I believed in miracles,
One: I was disappointed,
Two I was disappointed,
Had to change my thinking and learn, for the miracle of love to enter.
Love has no need of belief. Love is:
But why, one two, four?
Come, let Pan then whisper on my soft orbs of pleasure
And climb, axe through this deep undergrowth with his mighty tool of joy
This rampant warrior, soldier of delight, seeker of love's sweet solace,
Finds home in my warm embrace as mother suckles babe.




Mayday Review 2004

singing european folk songs
remembering the seige of malta
seeking redemption in wagner
stumbling blindly to the altar
in a film that spans the divide
impressed by gravity and wit
the plot of a jolly smart novel
obscured by a flash of white tit
the life of the mind stands impeded
as it sinks in the primeval dust
with old magic of language imploding
in the teenagers hot wanking lust
sculpted again from earths bowels
designed to a harmonic tune
measured in pendulums swinging
on the balls of the sun and the moon
what lies hid beneath that old greatcoat
in his insights and eleven-inch cock
which prevails against all who would romance
as a stone in a shoe without sock
winning the race to the finish
but the start line
remains undefined
point at the board with a drumstick
closely observed and refined
we know we can all live together
if you untermensch do as youre told
just work till you drop with exhaustion
provide us with women and gold
freedom will not make you happy
its just some strange dream that you had
our slaves can be black
white or purple
its a myth that we're racist and bad
the state we're in breeds weird notions
but only if livers are good
we'll cut out your kidneys and eyeballs
like some latter day robbing hey hood
do you see where the artist is heading
with a doctrinaire debonair pope
they torture with beatings and burial
and laugh in the pallor of dope
no stone unturned in the graveyard
as we search for the unicorn spoor
with weapons of lies
mass destruction
cruise missiles that knock on your door
a trick of the light made him shoot her
seven years old and afraid
a terrorist threat
claimed the sniper
and a split second judgement i made
marvellous playful and graceful
expletives deleted they say
paradise tossed in the garbage
fire in the head from the clay
the jester writes notes on a scandal
as the officer plays with his balls
with his cabinet gagged in the basement
the minister makes more false calls
identity cards on the table
tennis stars taking a dive
bombing in spain costs a fortune
tell her talks hydrogen jive
sex sunday morning and sucking
clitoris newspaper rhyme
rhythm and creaking and panting
moving in radio time



I've been poor before

I have seen hissing gas lights
I know the stone flagged floor
Hidden from the rentman
Rolled paper 'gainst the door
Scavenged t'last bit of coal
Made toast on t'open fire
Burned old shoes when freezing
When warmth was the sole desire
Lived life in black and white
Like some rainswept forties flick
Cuddled girls in t'air raid shelter
Owed the corner shop on t'tick
Imagined I'm Flash Gordon
Hopalong Cassidy too
Saturday down at t'Bug Hut
[We could never afford the Zoo]
Smoked a piece of skip cane
Then t'first sneaked cigarette
In dizziness and vomit
The body won't forget
Tin bath comes out each Friday
You get one need or not
Water heats on cooker
If t'others are quick it's hot
Snow to rooftops in winter
November choking smog
See arms length in this stuff
Fifty yard walk is slog
Made spears from cotton spindles
And bows with old skip cane
Saloons from bits of timber
Adventures of John Wayne
Hunted frogs and wildlife
Fished in t'old mill lodge
Ran the streets with faithful Rex
Learned how to duck and dodge
Giggled behind the garages
As Phil pulled out the books
Spick and Span with airbrushed pubes
'Is that really how one looks?'
Clatter of clogs on cobbled streets
Turbanned army marching home
Invading the pitch at our cricket match
Behind the dark mills groan
Lived on t'latch key daily
Sometimes chipshop too
Come in, get changed and set the fire
Fill t'kettle make a brew
Wore hand me downs and jumble
Passed on by kindly Aunts
At grammar school the only kid
With holes int' back of pants
Compared each other's manhoods
In English and RE
Miss Weston would have had a stroke
Good job she couldn't see
Played footie on the cinder croft
Come home covered in cuts
Hidden in the pigeon loft
And fumbled girls in huts
Gone for t'crap in t'dead of night
Newspaper torch in hand
The outside tippler's freezing
And the 'toilet roll's' not grand
Caught out behind t'bike sheds
Eight of us with smoke
But we didn't get caught by t'river
Where that couple were having a poke
Watched drunken bums lose wages
In crooked games of cards
Their wives fly into rages
Then fight in pub back yards
Stood there when John the Temper
Put Harry on the ground
And lifted up that boulder
His skull with it to pound
["I've got a wife and kids," he cried
" 'twere only half-a-crown."]
Watched Big Al's wife get shagged six times
By Smithy down by t'mill
They've all gone there for ages
Suppose they always will
Rode the bus an hour
To work for next to nowt
Three minutes late, your quartered
Too many times you're out
Been cut and bruised and battered
[The call it 'hammer rash']
Bullied, coarsened, flattened
Fed greaseburgers and trash
Fabloid news and sport the fare
Hard, full of muscle rough
No room for Nancy's anywhere
If you don't fit in then that's tough
Covered in oil and turnings
In boiler suit and boots
Treated like a zero
By know alls in sharp suits
Got one myself at Burton's
And winkle picker shoes
Out on t'town on Friday
White socks and full of booze
Slim Jim tie and Brylcreem
Trying to pull the birds
Mostly unsuccesful
[Herds remain as herds]
A tumble in a 'phone box
A touch of pubic hair
Hot petting in the one and eights
Fish finger here and there
'Lucy Donovan's up the tub,
They're calling her a slut.'
The word's got round the girls
And their legs are firmly shut
Football, rugby Saturday
Obscenities, catcalls
The Hero here is working class
It's got him by the balls
Conditioned by the system
Karma in the worth
Imprisoned in behaviour
Entrapment in the birth
Then Monday once more comes around
Clears Sunday Morning's bout
I'll not do this for fifty years
There must be some way out;
I'll not do this for fifty years
There must be some way out.
-------------------------
I've been poor before
I know the stone flagged floor
So I learned to use a library
Maths, art, science, even more.




I feel your legs under the table
Leaning into mine
I feel renewed
I feel disabled
By these bonfires in my spine
I don't know who the arsonist was
Which incendiary soul
But all I ever wanted
Was to come in from the cold

Is this just vulgar electricity
Is this the edifying fire
Does your smile covert complicity
Debase as it admires
Are you checking out your mojo
Or am I just fighting off growing old
All I ever wanted
Was to come in from the cold
[Mitchell]




Archbishop's Dilemma

Bradford's against
The Bishop of Reading
Chester and Winchester
Wonder who he's been bedding
In sexual intercourse
Holy snake sucks his tail
Deep mark of the union
Made flesh human scale
Heaven on Earth
As opposites meet
Brief forming the circle
Luscious ecstasy sweet
Writhing and heaving
In love's eager clasp
Thrusting and panting
With each ardent gasp
Adam in Eve
Not Adam in Adam
Or so they believe
In Christchurch and Wadham
Made for each other
Rochester 'Pool
Thou shalt not fuck thy brother
Thou shalt not fuck thy mule
Thou shalt not fuck thy mother
As Sodom's lot learned
Thy son nor thy daughter
Unless ye be burned
Opposites God made
Each thing in it's place
If then love a partner
With fairness of face
And we be not married
[A man made convention]
Why can we not love
With every invention?
Can we not delight
In each others' sighs
Drink each other's lips
Joy each other's eyes?
Do fancy clothes matter
Does love become lust
What does it mean
When all becomes dust?
Who'll preach resurrection
And who defines sin
In beautiful bonding
As snake slithers in?
Who strays over boundaries
And who sets them where
Who here is righteous
And who will declare?
This is the question
Let's make it direct
Morals and Bible
Or polite correct?
Written by nomads
Dictated by God
Long aeons past
In dialects odd
Translated four times
Through Hebrew and Greek
Mistaken and twisted
Such meaning is weak
But can you take one part
When joined at the hip?
Or does reason demand
It all goes in the skip?
Denying its basis
Then logic must find
That Church and its Ministry
Have roots undermined
If must pick and choose
Which be moral and not
Why then use a bible
Why not dump the whole lot?
Earnest flock members see this
Those who sincerely search
Turning faces away
At the end of the Church
Who splits communion
And joining in sex
Sacrifice, polygamy
Whatever next?
One thing be certain
That those who would ride
Smooth pleasures of Sodom
Must never decide
For all falls apart
In a sexual chasm
Creating a schism
In worship of orgasm
For urgent self-interest
Can never judge true
Hot desires born of Satan
That seek to undo
Whose is authority
From whence does it come
Have we no prophets
Are old ways undone?
And what of the Master
What would he say
If he stood by your side
As you acted this way?



The Warrant

in the year seventeen
of emperor tiberius caesar
on this twenty-seventh
day of martius
in the city of holy jerusalem
annas and caiaphas
being priests
sacrificators
of the people of god
pontius pilate
governor of lower gallilee
sitting in the presidential chair
of the praetory
condemns jesus of nazareth
to die on the cross
between two thieves
the great
and notorious
evidence of the people saying:
1. jesus is a seducer
2. he is seditious
3. he is the enemy of law
4. he calls himself falsely the son of god
5. he calls himself falsely the king of israel
6. he entered into the temple
followed by a multitude
bearing palm branches
in their hands

the first centurion
tuiluis cornelius
shall take him
by the gate of struenus
to the place of execution

this warrant forbids
any person
whomsoever
either poor or rich
to oppose the death of
jesus christ

witnessed this day;
daniel robani
a pharisee
joannus robani
raphael robani
capet
a citizen





The Ballad of Annabell May

[This is an early, albeit crude (in more ways than one) exercise in word morphing. I post it here:
a) for historical reasons and
b) because people keep asking me for a copy.
Be warned, there's some very deep stuff lurking in this seemingly innocuous bawdy Limerick poem.
Comments and analysis are welcome...]


Listen close, in this epic you'll find,
Something here for the quick, subtler mind,
I'll charm you and thrill you,
Perhaps even - will you?
I fancy you might, just - unwind.

Our heroine, Annabell May,
Who was fond of a roll in the hay,
Lost her husband one night,
In a terrible fight,
With a lover she'd brought home to play.

She'd felt really turned on by this punk,
A spare time prize-fighter and drunk,
'Why keep lunging,' she said,
'He's already dead,
Hump the body down here to this trunk.

Stefansee, a slow one at best,
Put the stiff with a thump in the chest,
Then this champion prize-fighter,
A glow-worm was brighter,
Reached for Annabell, stroking her breast

'I'm hopin' thy soft skin, Smooth eyes,
For my efforts tonight, is my prize,
I want you, I know,
I long for you so, Remember how you fantasised?'

Poor Annabell started to weep,
'We must bury him quick, do it deep,
Out where the slab rests,
There'll be time to grab rest,
Once he's in the hole we can sleep.'

Our heroine felt her sore knee,
Remembered and spun crazily,
A lush afternoon,
Her husband's sad doom,
And how from this scum to break free.

Stefansee did moan and did grunt,
Regretting the whole stupid stunt,
As he dug ten feet down,
He felt such a clown,
In search of a good rhyming word.

Up top Annabell stood by the trunk,
Wondering how she could unload this punk,
She eased the box forward,
To the rim of the hole,
Then down onto his head with a clunk.

She filled in the hole double quick,
With quick-setting cement and rough brick,
'I want romance,' she hissed,
'To make love, to be kissed,
Not drunkards and fighting and tricks.'

The deed done, she set off to a fair,
Hoping to find true love there,
She came upon one,
The King of the Pun,
A poet with panache and flair.

As he punned, he a shadow show ran,
From the back of an old caravan,
With a screen and a candle,
A brush with no handle,
A fork, two meat pies and a pan.

'What's this here then?' he called to the crowd,
'Pretend that you know, call out loud.'
The shadows looked rude,
Rather sexually crude,
Like an excited table stood proud.

She imagined this big thick Caucasian,
Deriding a supple Malaysian,
To nip all in the bud,
She erected her hood,
To guard against infatuation.

'This man's gorgeous,' she said with a sigh,
'With a certain strange glint in his eye,
I'll have him tonight,
For my personal delight,
This is turning me on, don't know why.'

His show finished, the King stepped off the board,
Saying: 'Lady, you've just struck a chord,
On the strings of my being,
Come with me seeing,
My pun is much meatier than sword,'

'Let an expert deep into your soul,
And with eyes open wide know the whole,
Tonight be my bride,
You know what's implied,
For both of us have the same goal.'

'Think hard on this ex-con's quick pun,
Did Icarus fly to the sun?
Will Dickens discount,
Make male hens moan and grunt,
And wash after you good just for fun?'

'I wonder if you are aware,
Deep within you're beginning to stir,
I know that you're wondering,
How far you will go,
And how you'll find out if you care?'

I shall begin now to realise that time,
And proceed down that memory line,
Which when rearranged,
Will bring about change,
That transforms the present with rhyme.

Remarkably this is the case,
I can tell from the look on my face,
That I too can renew,
The things I once knew
Knowing this is the time and the place.

Should you find in these words something strange,
As time and space now rearrange,
Restore in the present,
The things that one's past,
Memory keeps without change.

Said Annabell, 'I feel confused,
You say I can be as I choose,
If my past is my present,
And my present is past,
I have therefore nothing to lose.'

Pun King smiled and then nodded his head,
'This is really intriguing,' he said,
'Listen hard whilst I tell,
And remember this spell,
For the change it will bring is widespread.'

'I want you to look at your past,
When you made love the time before last,
If you'll just visualise,
What you saw with your eyes,
Do it now, and the die will be cast.'

'Now remember the panting and sighs,
The heaving and grunting and cries,
Soft whispers and speaking,
Flesh slapping, bed creaking,
Remember it all, fantasise.'

And now to recall once again,
Hot blood rushing round in each vein,
That thrusting, that lunging,
That kissing and plunging,
For ecstasy flesh to attain.

To this brew add those memories of smell,
That hung in your nostrils so well,
Fantasise, cast,
Attain it at last,
The past it comes now with this spell.

'I'm feeling like honey,' she shivered,
'The spell you've cast makes my bones quiver,
I can feel a vibration,
A certain sensation,
From the tips of my toes to my liver.'

She searched deep in his eyes for a clue,
The Pun King he already knew,
A master of words,
And a charmer of birds,
Annabell thought aloud what to do,

'This Pun King man's stuck in my mind,
I'll pretend I'm the oncoming kind,
If his apple is fresh,
I'll bite it's soft flesh,
Suckle it and see what I find.'

'Hey hum, Pretty Lady, let's do it,
Why pretend you have lost, why go through it?
This ridiculous game,
Is confusing my brain,
I want you, I want to go to it.'

'I fancy I know what you mean,
You arouse me in ways quite obscene,
I have deep in me needs,
That dark fantasy feeds,
Come with me now, share in my dream.'

And so with the fair bid goodbye,
They made love 'neath the diamond clad sky,
And walked hand in hand,
Length and breadth of the land,
Exploring the meaning of Pi.

(Two years later, they were settled in a cottage in South Yorkshire: Pun King had been morose for some days & began to explain)

'I have a deep secret,' said he,
'When younger, foot loose, fancy free,
At the Howling Wolf Inn,
I was corrupted by sin,
And the innkeeper's blackmailing me.'

'I was drunk one night, telling a pun
When he came upon me with a gun,
And in fear of my life,
Made me hump his young wife,
Whilst he stood by and watched just for fun.'

'Then when he was sated, the swine,
Gave me glass after glass of drugged wine,
Then made me play cards,
With his friends in the bar,
Where I lost money time after time.'

'My two hundred pound IOU,
Is an ongoing burden for two,
And it has to be paid,
To his wife and his maid,
Each month when the interest is due.

'Now he's offered to give me it back,
For one night with you in the sack,
He says if you do,
His threatening's through,
And our finances go in the black.'

'I'll do it then,' sighed Annabell,
'End up with a night out as well,
It sounds fine by me,
I can't wait to see,
If this man is as good as they tell.'

All through the night she rode hard,
And came to the Howling Wolf's yard,
As dawn cracked the next day,
Tired but ready to pay,
For the debts of this Pun King, her bard.

Now Harris, the Howling Wolf's owner,
Was a surly man, devious, a loner,
A butcher by trade,
With a bisexual maid,
Known far and wide for his huge boner.

When he saw Annabell, he did gloat,
A lustful groan sprang from his throat,
'Welcome, Pretty Maid,
You will when you're laid,
Reveal yourself, take off your coat.

The innkeeper's eyes were on fire,
Bulging and filled with desire,
'What is this here?' said he,
'Feel my hand on your knee,
Very soon shall I slide it up higher.'

'Oh, Sir,' she cried, 'pray what is this?
A Gentleman starts with a kiss,
Your lust feels so great,
And if you can but wait,
I shall give you a whole night of bliss.'

Notwithstanding his humble position,
Landlord Harris was a Black Magician,
Who kept on the inn,
As a front for his sin,
His perversions, his lust and ambition.

Said he: 'I gave this Pun King his spell,
That went deep in your memory so well,
Fantasise, cast,
Attain it at last,
The past it comes now as I tell.'

'Oh, Sir, you confuse me so much,
I'm burning inside with your touch,
You're arousing my feelings,
I'm out of control,
I need to make love, I am such.'

And so then was Pun King's debt paid,
Poor Annabell got laid and got laid,
By the rampant innkeeper,
Who went in even deeper,
Than the drayman, the groom and the maid.

Three days without sleep did they take her,
And when she refused they did make her,
Perform for their pleasure,
Give stroke measure for measure,
With the innkeeper's wife and the baker.

On finally escaping these freaks,
Our heroine's silence still speaks,
Now all she will say,
Of that sad fateful day,
Is: 'I couldn't sit down for three weeks.'

Despite this, I once heard her claim,
That the doings drove her almost insane,
All that licking and sucking,
Seventy-two hours of drinking,
Left sharp images deep in her brain.

They didn't live happily after,
Some discovered the spell and would shaft her,
By connecting four wires,
To arouse her desires,
Her passions, her rapture and laughter.

But Annabell still adores Pun King,
Who's doing a long stretch in B wing,
Of the Strangeways Hotel,
For trying to spell,
An election with are down in Wan King.

Listen close, in this epic you'll find,
Something here for the quick, subtler mind,
I'll charm you and thrill you,
Perhaps even - will you?
I fancy you might, just - unwind.




Invocation to Sir Chenjin

open invocation cast out wide
incantation ether wave born on tide
language disorder wiccan chant
music therapy rave and rant
natural healing magic spell
mystery story dark poetry's well
erotic story anagram new
glastonbury festival pagan symbol too
feast of pentecost speaking in tongues
hypnotic mistress men with iron lungs
feast of flowering moon burning man
letter lock love lust lingering in pan
ur spracht manu five tone voice
harmonic cleansing leave no choice
a therapy given by the local physician
for ten full minutes in missionary position
alternate reality seeing charlie chan
caudad tetrad blench sempiternal clan
chanting indian velvet acid thighs
girl gone wild eating holland meat pies
image and reality of mystery lady hex
nature of duality in matter form and sex
magic incantation creating human mess
room fighting night flyer woman red dress
laughing buddha statue cockney rhyming slang
universal life so mind healer sang
brain dump overload secret overheard
practical magic hid in spoken word
hypno seduction mystic language ways
of humping word morph and humbly dumbly days
analysing meaning kingdom is within
walking distance viewing depravity and sin
origin of cliche history of pi
figurative language on warm woman thigh
regressive imagery sweet sensation
creative writing unproven allegation
greedy corpo scientist making out a case
tenure and finance fuck the human race
well read dick head word wrestler teach
woolly pully over eye obfuscate in speech
brief statement utterance assert affair firmation
word of honour off her head in circumnavigation
masturbating priestess hot on road to hull
paved with god inventions of literary bull
spunking spurting shuphat hiphat ka
partial parthogenesis ex ishivar shuffha
supernal ish nephridium essif hassoh sishoph
macropterous preposterous paashiphs esifs hitoph
creator mass deaf ray naive guilt on head
mad dog politician get make twenty million dead
he speak fancy word trying hard to bed her
she trust no auditor standing near a shredder
never trust pleas man who say no thing to fear
never trust drunkard who say he want no beer
never trust spin doctor put in place to hide
never trust her anyone only give one side
words of power power game plan it underground
movement of an iron rod fusion inert sound
cavitation engine rusting down the pit
sniffing out her intent and sucking on her wit
rhythm poem undertone in language pattern field
music lyric search and find in song and spell is sealed
love letter sonnet form in horoscope and quote
poetry with gratitude in heart felt thank you note
real working class heroes incarnate in trees
in sea and rock and flower in cloud and trees
in grass and insect form in fish and sand
in river stream and rain not many understand
parable or metaphor they make feel small
no time in pain so big they feel no thing at all
miracle and mackerel hovis and brown bread
feeding of five thousand then raise lazarus from dead
billies and charlies making drake brass plate
william henry ireland and confabulate
letter from america come each satan day
black verse propaganda direct from see and say
boundless and limitless forgotten and forlorn
justifying genocide whilst castigating porn
in witchcraft ritual ancient as hills
soaked in henbane and pushing poisoned pills
for the right wing ringer with a bowie knife
who reads the bible and fucks his wife
on saturday night when he's feeling hot
and she has to have it if she wants it or not
weapon of destruction they say they burst the boil
proper gander in the head while killing for more oil
spinning to drumbeat of set up tv show
critically silenced and too far gone to know
fist up sock puppet dancing on a string
thinking caper freely but conductor say what sing
structure here of magic mystery and bon
appetite for hot lust and unity with one
womans burning passion in suffering desire
talk so people listen out in fohat cosmic fire
station master dreamer in word persuasion power
conning man and animal climbing babel tower
overtime lord helper in tranceformation cross
sword of truth in what is is of little import loss
of ego maniac patterning in super project scheme
in nonsense rhyme and reason of rabbit hole dream
on young lovers kisses on butterfly's wings
of a prayer and a blissing as the carpenter sings
walrus lyric name of lucy mean it light
christ alice transformation poem come middle time of night
walker on fire pit pot chanting in trance
form shifted consciousness shapen up by dance
through looking glass studio in caterpillar hall
moth man get transfigured whispering a call
text segmentation making image and form
flow of information in access to storm
cloud picture post card give index to word
pattern of language make perception of world
sweet temptation french kissing hot man hoods
blue eyes green eyes and wicked things in woods
dreaming and scheming with wild imagination
hand on throbbing groin in deep infatuation
soft silky gentleness spoken in a sigh
lustings thrustings never asking why
teacher speak hard tongue how many lick
like diamond mind head in sleight of mouth trick
like cogito ergo sum where no i is thinking
as if eye lid movement say eye is blinking
pink lips fumbled zips shapely hips and fashion
deep sighs white thighs stocking tops and passion
take a chance you're the one give it to me now
don't talk heart of glass I will survive somehow
french kissing breath hissing suck and gentle bite
soft breast moral test and sexual delight
have to have you have to have you temptation burn so much
never met like you before such yearning for your touch
hidden words of wisdom anagram omkara sound
of hypno fetish sing songs sup in velvet underground
sad spaniard in works outing of finnegans wake
breaking up form until left hand fingers ache
forest field and fantasy in daresbury ask alice
in wonderland adventure of lewis carroll malice
little prince charming girls in grimm fairy tales
of magic ways love fest visions of whales
electric heroes bathing in twilight of the gods
novel english usage working flouting all the odds
healing in hypnosis sound and esp
calling down great angels by smoking dmt
saintly evocation deep taproot rubaiyat
and my voice will go with you so meditate on that
moving finger writing in bright winking neon sign
metaphor inviting hand inventory and mime
curtailing basic freedoms citing keeping peace
work in public office palm all smear in grease
teaching dog eat dog lead survival of fit
recoil in hypocrisy when mugger practice it
brainwasher child scarer he can tell
bribe with heaven fill fear with hell
fill with fairy tale illusion breath
safety in number but alone birth death
being live in senses see touch here feel
talk life fantasy mystic life real
phalli soppy symbol game word trancecribed
best description never described
very best picture never is real
only poor reflection menu not meal
mind game story zen alarm clock
mourning glory cooking with a wok
assonance and resonance in pi man soup
speak words that rhyme with brewer's droop
one life big dreams breaking up the mould
things with prayer work out sized ego told
essence of meaning body language sign
universal music second coming time
come passion hot bed brain washing route
wild cherry college girl in pink zoot suit
literature and writing gothic sex with demon
phonetic fornication friendship poem for seamen
yellow matter custard dead dogs eye
stream of consciousness river running by
sit in twilight garden near wall in hidden palace
resuurecting vision of thick vein in stiffened phallus
pushing through the maiden hair no gilded butterfly
panting heaving throbbing satisfaction in her eye
needles pins it on her looking into something good
really got me caught all over now it's something understood
lying back and spread out wide upon the paduasoy
she spasms on the groaning bed and takes the spurt of joy
I'm in love with a vengeance and there's always something there
I am made three times a lady summer nights without a care
seven times she cries out loud as fourteen times it gushes
her womanhood in wild delight it pushes pushes pushes pushes
in song lyric fantasy of theatre made of dream
mirror of reality in evil selling scheme
altered state of consumeness by aesop writ in fable
example of sweet metaphor hiding under table
dynamic body language no nonsense poem
word twisting nursery rhyme story of owen
money mad megabird shag gash rough
ride with poltergeist feeling not enough
time out of head lines up another lay
back game plan screenplay writing starring daisy may
be zen rock garden may be knot in song
bird brain storm in teacup part wrong
day out in weird picture phonetic story
board game sonnet writing new morning glory
days of magic gathering jupiter and mars
calls to willing and eager in bars
all comers waiting from noticing signs
of storybook weaver who committed no crimes
near death experience in bone mountain monastery
garden of delight and growing sheaves of honesty
partnership in ecstasy of orgasm surge surpass
expectation wonderment of nitrous oxide gas
mask of martinet in house of sin hush city
humping heaving shafting pushions feeling hot and pretty
dweller on threshold of dream interpretation
ambiguous and tolerant in sweet alliteration
red realm restraint rock of rough romantic craft
fair tongue piercing down deep mind shaft
hot women gasping in elizabethan map
of cosmos and kronos in heathen devil trap
door to eternity and medieval feast
of master of reality bringer of release
white dove of freedom original sin
no more stoning and from this all will win
out of advertising logan manipulating word
looks like cattle but sound like herd
and heard not scene as childhood place
alternate reality of man in moon face
of sacred valley in winter sun
sign of plenty and lover of nun
dancing with angel in pentecost trance
rapt in glossolalia and oblivious of chance
paradigm shift midsummer night dream
catcher of nuance and maker of scheme
rhythm of word and rhythm of phrase
rhythm of lyric of ancient of days
three times a lady hot summer nights
put on stocking and throw down tights
and nights of passion with heaving hips
in fairy tale story of clinging lips
speak sweet endearment in love poem spell
outrageous blessing he knew so well
in erotic fantasy of eros rhyme
and reason discarded to keep in time
arch of spine and creak of floor
wuthering heights night fever more
to remember mantram of beating drum
to sway and weave in eternal hum
and hump and pump in coming of spring
fly height of summer on joyful wing
and as fall of leaves take stock and slow
prepare for winters coming night and know
that when cleansing frost be past and done
new bud come reborn called out by sun





The Pick Up Man

The pick up man stood at the bar,
He'd had no luck this evening, so far,
And then through the gloom,
At the back of the room,
Spied a blonde and brunette with no bra.

Hardly believing his luck,
Within three brief seconds, he struck,
'What brings you here girls,
To this part of the world?
Would you like a fresh drink or a sandwich?'

'I'M IN HERE,' he thought with a grin,
As they giggled, HE FILLED THEM with gin,
'I WANT YOU,' he said,
'And I'M EASILY LEAD,
I LIKE NIGHTS OF HOT PLEASURE AND SIN.'

'I FIND YOU INTRIGUING, that's true,'
Said the blonde with the eyes of pale blue,'
YOUR WIT AND YOUR CHARM,
HAVE A WAY TO DISARM,
I WONDER WHAT ELSE YOU CAN DO?

'DEEP INSIDE HER, the brunette was STEAMING,
She knew well what blondie was scheming,
If SHE WANTED ROMANCE,
Then THIS WAS HER CHANCE,
Or she'd end up in bed alone dreaming.

'I FIND YOU QUITE SEXY,' she said,
'But don't geT IT INTO YOUR HEAD,
That me and my friend,
Will SUCK YOUR BELL END,
At home when we GET YOU IN BED.

'Blondie's eyes OPENED WIDE WITH DELIGHT,
THIS COULD BE QUITE AN INTERESTING NIGHT,
'THAT SOUNDS GOOD,' she sighed,'
LET'S GO FOR A RIDE,
LET'S WORK THIS TOGETHER, ALRIGHT?'

BOTH PANTING, they dragged off the man,
To a mattress in the back of their van,
Where they VENTED THEIR PASSION,
In a crude lusting fashion,
DOING THINGS only two women can.




stay in line. stay in step. people
are afraid of someone who is not
in step with them. it makes them
look foolish t' themselves for
being in step. it might even
cross their minds that they themselves
are in the wrong step. do not run
nor cross the red line. if you go
too far out in any direction, they
will lose sight of you. they'll feel
threatened. thinking that they are
not a part of something that they
saw go past them, they'll feel
something's going on up there that
they don't know about. revenge
will set in. they will start thinking
of how t' get rid of you. act
mannerly towards them. if you don't,
they will take it personal. as you
come directly in contact face t' face
do not make it a secret of how
much you need them. if they sense
that you have no need for them,
the first thing they will do is
try t' make you need them. if
this doesn't work, they will tell
you of how much they don't need
you. if you do not show any sadness
at a remark such as this, they
will immediately tell other people
of how much they don't need you.
your name will begin t' come up
in circles where people gather
to tell about all the people they
don't need. you will begin t' get
famous this way. this, though, will
only get the people who you don't need
in the first place
all the more madder.
you will become
a whole topic of conversation.
needless t' say, these people
who don't need you will start
hating themselves for needing t' talk
about you. then you yourself will
start hating yourself for causing so
much hate. as you can see, it will
all end in one great gunburst.
never trust a cop in a raincoat.
when asked t' define yourself exactly,
say you are an exact mathematician.
do not say or do anything that
he who standing in front of you
watching cannot understand, he will
feel you know something he
doesn't. he will react with blinding
speed and write your name down.
talk on his terms. if his terms
are old-fashioned an' you've
passed that stage all the more easier
t' get back there. say what he
can understand clearly. say it simple
t' keep your tongue out of your
cheek. after he hears you, he can
label you good or bad. anyone will
do. t' some people, there is only
good an' bad. in any case, it will
make him feel somewhat important.
it is better t' stay away from
these people. be careful of
enthusiasm...it is all temporary
an' don't let it sway you. when asked
if you go t' church, always answer
yes, never look at your shoes...
[Dylan: Advice for Geraldine on Her Miscellaneous Birthday]




Because I am united eternally, inseparably, with my Beloved - who is the Beloved of all, who is yourself - I would show you the way, because you are in pain, in sorrow, in doubt.
But I can only be a signpost for you.
You must have the strength of your own desire to attain.
You must experience the pain and the sorrow in your own self.
You must strive for yourself.
Your desire must come from your very soul.
It must be the result of your own experience, for by that alone will you attain.
By telling you of my attainment I do not wish to create authority because if I create authority in your mind I shall destroy your own perception of the Truth.
I want to make you breathe the fresh air of the mountains, but if you seek my authority you will remain in your dark valley of limitation.
It is much easier for you to follow and worship blindly than to understand and so become truly free.

Until I was able to identify myself with the goal, which is the Beloved of all, which is the Source and the End of all, I did not want to say that I had found and, in finding, had become the Beloved.
Till I was able to unite with the eternal I could not pass on the Truth to others; till I was certain of having found the lasting goal I did not want to say that I was the Teacher.
Now that I have found, now that I have established the Beloved within myself, now that the Beloved is myself, I would give you of the Truth - not that it should be received with authority, but with understanding.
It does not matter whether you accept or reject it.
When a flower opens and gives its scent, it does not heed if the passer-by does not delight in its fragrance.
I have painted my picture on the canvas and I want you to examine it critically, not blindly.
I want you to create because of that picture a new picture for yourself.
I want you to fall in love with the picture, not with the painter, to fall in love with the Truth and not with him who brings the Truth.
Fall in love with yourself and then you will fall in love with everyone.


...that immense energy,
immense intelligence,
has been using this body.
I don't think people realise what tremendous energy
and intelligence went through this body.
And for seventy years
- was a pretty long time -
and now the body can't stand any more.

Nobody,
unless the body has been prepared,
very carefully,
protected and so on -
nobody can understand what went through this body.
Nobody.
Don't anybody pretend.
Nobody.
I repeat this:
nobody amongst us or the public,
knows what went on.
I know they don't.

And now after seventy years
it has come to an end.
Not that this intelligence and energy
- it's somewhat here,
every day,
and especially at night.
And after seventy years,
the body can't stand it
- can't stand any more.
It can't.

The Indians have a lot of damned superstitions about this
- that you will and the body goes -
and all that kind of nonsense.

You won't find a body like this,
or that supreme intelligence
operating in a body
for many hundred years.
You won't see it again.
When he goes, it goes.
There is no consciousness left behind
of that consciousness,
of that state.
They'll all pretend
or try to imagine they can get in touch with that.
Perhaps they will somewhat
if they live the teachings.
But nobody has done it.
Nobody.
And so that's that.
[Krishnamurti]




Associated Pages

Dan Scorpio Home
Eprime
Atonal Therapeutic Chant for Healing and Interrupt
Language Manipulation and Abuse
Presupposition
Neologism and Cliche Forms
Therapeutic Metaphor
Pomes and Lyrical Main Page
Bibliography [for Entire Site]
Prince and Magician (Consciousness) Pages