1. |
I Compliment You
00:19
|
|||
I Compliment You
Fore Score and 17 Seconds of Bliss,
just in our footsteps
the American dream
eyes cast to heaven
our souls still below
and the quiver of hesitation
as We neglect holding hands
|
||||
2. |
Like Clockwork
00:19
|
|||
Like Clock Work
I wound my heart turning
She slinked in her hand
to move round the gears
that rotate and Jam
And as time wore on
Infinitesimally small
we only turned once
or never at all
|
||||
3. |
Chicago
00:42
|
|||
Chicago
Food turns your mouth to droplets, your wallet to empty
Poisoned water people come leagues to see
Hands gripping rails without sanitizer
If this is Rome, Then let Rome be, in Spring and Soot.
Heads tilted down, provoking silence
Swarm of Humanity, filling every inch with flesh
Privacy in public, a murder of pigeons Gyre
If this is Rome, Then let Rome be, in Spring and Soot.
There is a great flutter
And a twinge of smile
As the bird takes roost
On the flat brimmed cap
|
||||
4. |
Shot on Film
00:24
|
|||
Shot on Film
That’s the 9th time you've died today
I wish you hadn't, mindless casualty
Brains Blown out & guts spread thin
you never see your wife again
Bless me lord that I may go
and meet that soul that died at Somme
long dead, Name lost, and shown too long
|
||||
5. |
Cardboard Cutout
00:23
|
|||
Cardboard Cut Out
You may have drawn his face on me
I'm happy he's alive and well
and that his cells no longer curl up
like Candy bar Wrappers
I was a pleasant distraction
when I love you, in retrospect
meant you'll keep me around
until god cuts off his death-
--before it can finish the thought—
|
||||
6. |
Strawberry Moon
01:09
|
|||
Strawberry Moon
Half raised to the glass with my own strangeness
crass to the gash that redeems my desire
Cutting my Light on the mirror of a Strawberry Moon
Silent and unhanded to kiss and kill on streetcorneers
Unnamed to drink of this prohibited fire
Half raised to the glass with my own strangeness
Suckling Apollo for the silk sake of scorners
we blaze out like might before midnight retires
Cutting my Light on the mirror of a Strawberry Moon
And I empty you to the grasp of mourners
last king to the thought that ideas make sires
Half raised to the glass with my own strangeness
But I don’t give up hopeless, not like the forelorners,
who angle their blades to string up their lyre
Cutting my Light on the mirror of a Strawberry Moon
Till it is a sky blackened by dying adorners
filled to the brim in its broken eyed shadowy scarred pyre
Half raised to the glass with my own strangeness
Cutting my Light on the mirror of a Strawberry Moon
|
||||
7. |
||||
Aristotle Makes Michael Bay Sad
Boom! Boom!
The Thundering Room
Billed with Glory
and filled with doom
and flickering-wickering-Sawdust man
all empty and sour eyed
as a charity basket
outside the holidays
|
||||
8. |
The Master, Chiefly
00:49
|
|||
The Master, Cheifly
The Master, Chiefly, fire blazing day to
Sew across a circle seam with footsteps
Silent ordered back and called to accept
Fierce and Furied angel disks caught spinning few
Around a haughty Grecian valor in lieu
Of mighty elephants holding great kept
Stores of inching pride, diligent, that leapt
Through horde and slayer, yellow caught with blue
But what unhappy covenant does see
Or feel, when the coast greendark ships do sail
And what beloved arbiter does sit
To see this trial? And what old enemy?
And though you’ve lost your every friend, grow not pale!
The fight’s great finish brings but cold night, lit.
|
||||
9. |
||||
"Love can't save you Padme," he said, incorrectly
I feel like a new Skywalker
suffering under my own vice
Swaying left and falling right
and I thought I'd burn in Mustafar
But in my own self indulgence
I'm rescued from the Odessa steps
Not a Skywalker, but a Frederson
More German expressionism
then American New wave
I call out, "Maria!"
And I find I've Caught up
With my own insecurities
and throw them in slow motion
- off the roof -
- into the lava –
|
||||
10. |
Japan, Oh God, Japan
00:32
|
|||
Japan, Oh God, Japan
Japan
Oh, God
Japan
Why is it
When I type "tentacle" into Google
I get not a happy Octapus
but horrors I can barely comprehend
Japan
Oh, God
Japan
Even with your cherry blossoms
I curl into the fetal position.
|
||||
11. |
Threads for Blood
00:17
|
|||
Threads for Blood
She has no Veins, only Cold, dry canyons
Where Scavengers Suck the
Marrow from her
and she lets them gladly
Panning for gold
in the last great dying
|
||||
12. |
Yours, in Effigy
02:14
|
|||
Yours, in effigy
I
Willow tree, Redden me
When deep in your branches
You sound off the Morning with
The cuk-cuk of the squirrels
And the pip-pip of the birds
Who hide their seeds in their bellies
And relegate your hair ribbons to nests
And the dying Morning calls to your
Hands as you spread your spindly fingers
Across the sky and call
“Yes it is good!”
Into a holy night
Painted in tongue
And rosy smirk
II
To Love a poet
Is to love a moment
To love someone staring at the wall
Talking about caterwauling butterflies
-leaving your soliloquy on the page
My draining desire stretches out
Like water pooling on scorched earth
Till you turn and annotate
Our drowning into the loam of the world
III
If I could write like you:
I’d be able to make Sun-drops
And the layer of rain on your eyes
Out of parenthesis
And I would revel in what is
Beyond talent, beyond the abrev. of love
And I would sit below
Your branches and catch the
Leaves when fall comes
Red,Red,Red
Like a tide of the abrupt way
We both die someday
And I wish I could write like you
IV
Caterwaul! Caterwaul!
Climbing up the garden wall
I’m a child in your sweet aged smile
Like a Vine and Nursery Rhyme
In your beige and flower print dress
You slit the stockings below the knees
And I don’t feel good
About how I hew pews from your branches
Just to wait for your hymn
V
Your white limbs stretch over the horizon
With too few branches to block out the sun
Yet you complain about shadows
And the pain in your corpuscles
And though my sap leaks
Into your very roots
I just want to hear you scream
And the drip- drip- drip
As you loose your leaves.
|
||||
13. |
Bears
00:14
|
|||
Bears
The One bad thing about father
was under his spectacles
he was a bear
hibernating his books
and stretching out like dandelions
across the man cave floor
|
||||
14. |
Hospitals
00:23
|
|||
Hospitals
I did not understand Hospitals
they were places to get better
and I could not string her fears together
with Doctor's smiles
and then I learned
I did not understand that Hospitals
are sometimes the place you go
for everything you know
to wither in the waiting room.
|
||||
15. |
||||
Orison to the Thirteenth Tick off the Millennium
Scores of stars were sacrificed into the blackness
sinking into the sky, while we look up at the blight
of their absence
And from their ichor we dance as they bleed into the night
black black blood that damps the light and fuels the fire
dance dance into the night
as the fire fuels our new delight
We burn the effigies of old and scream into the night foretold
and laugh at all the things that never came about
and kick the dreams that left unborn
still fester in our brains
We lead the masses hand by hand in daisy chains and
build our lemonade stands up from ground control
to lead to rockets to the glow and you can take me by that stone
and dance dance into the night
as the fire fuels our new delight
and make the lemons into oranges, apples even
right the gorges of the bitter sour stinging lies
and birth baktun millennial goodbyes
to to all the things we can't abide
and you would watch, and so would I
the innocence we lost to "whys"
and untold heads against our chest
I'll wait for you by the night, when the singing stops
and all we see is epoch, mountainous and bold
thinking life is just the days of old
and I'll wait wait unto our flight
as the flame unfurls into the knife
that cuts away the mnemonic power
that slits the past and burns the hours
that paganous rite, a year anew
we dance and burn and pray and brew
and cry unto our new baktun
millennial to cure the blues
and if you wait, I'll dance and charm
and we will chant unto the dawn
as the fire burns wood into light
we will dance and dance
till we need no fight
|
||||
16. |
A Killer Sound, A Snap.
00:40
|
|||
A Killer Sound, a Snap
I couldn’t snipe at your sandals
towards the castle on rocks you climbed towards
up beyond the cairns where the kale grows
and the long stroke of the sun imbibes not
Up and Up rising into the killer hand
that awaits your doors
and by candlelight that hand will stroke
the faces that smile
and clench its fist on dreary dreams
stranded on a cable, a snap away
from downy sheets
but always eye to eye
within the autumn chambers
of your concrete halls
|
||||
17. |
Cinnamon Sleevs
01:58
|
|||
Cinnamon Sleeves
the cinnamon of your sleeve
or the filament of your robe
is thread bare to its color
and the shimmer of each walk
the glass nodes under my skin, I run my hands along the wall towards your room-- where your fingers smatter the keyboard with long thought words
and rise rise rise! Form! and I peer to see your synapses
but can only guess at the incongruity between your words
and the woman within who forged them
silently typing with your eyes wide and focused like a scientific machine
weaving worlds.
the cinnamon of your sleeve
and the filament of your robe
is thread bare to the mind
that somehow outpaces it’s flesh beauty
soaked in dyes like a dreamcoat
this isn’t the first time I’ve admired words
nor a woman’s splendor
and admittedly, I do so with the guilt of burdock and dandelion soda
bitter swigs as the river uncurls beside me
its waves asking me where you are, and why you don’t beautify its banks
like a public works project
you’d probably hate spending taxpayer dollars on that
so I should invite you to sip soda by the banks again
as a civic service
admiring how
the cinnamon of your sleeve
and the filament of your robe
is threadbare to the skin
like an unwashed Halloween costume
that still wins second place
we dwell in second place, we write there
and we will always be that overhang
despite the fact
that you always deserved the laurels
and a single kiss on the forehead
but with your words and your art and the pitter patter keys and the hair hanging down your eyes like a Japanese Horror movie
I can only feel your breath like a taunt
and imagine your kiss
tasting like
the cinnamon of your lips
and the filament of your hair
running through my fingers
like a long satin sleeve
|
||||
18. |
||||
J’Merican Boy
I.
J’Maple James
J’Maple you.
not like the syrup, far less auburn
like the syrup you bring me Joyeux,
though I still don’t understand the “x”
II.
Your hair billows as your Norman flag
your foot on the prow
raiding my shores
and turning the angles
to francophone wannabes
crushing my halls
and raising your castles
who ever thought it was a good idea
to teach Vikings French
saw you in that helmet
III.
I am grown, in some ways,
and you sold me on the precipice of
“Le Grande Illusion”
I asked a learned teenager
what “woman” was J’words
he replied he didn’t know
you could be aged
and your beauty cold
but you’ll always be better
then a 17 year old
IV.
as you parle vu le france
and I non, non, non
I amore you more and more
but there is no end
it doesn’t come
You bat the bang behind your ear
and I long to be
your J’Merican boy.
|
||||
19. |
She Stares Like Oceans
00:41
|
|||
She Stares Like Oceans
She stares in mirrors like oceans see the sun
and finds herself not wanting
paragon of the young
the harpies scream of vanity
but her interest can’t be blamed
if you listed off her attributes
that we’re pleasing to the eye
then you’d be writing poems like me
a most ironic rivalry
but as it is the poet’s jobs to
chronicle reflection
impose upon it verse and inflection
so when she sees she’s beautiful
recall,
she isn’t wrong.
|
||||
20. |
||||
She is Silent Like a Songbird
she is silent like a songbird
when the wind blows through rightly
and the trees shake their rattles with the notes
she sings so absent
there is no chorus but that which sits outside her
longing to play the harmony to her twitter
but the chitter never comes
and the leaves lie dashed on the ground,
and the clouds piteously bury them come December
but she is silent like a songbird
there are so few songbirds anymore
so we wait for her
they say without alley cats there would be more of her kind
but I had forgotten the sound
and mewing brewed with the scratching
and the one eyed kitten killed for a yarn
but where were the song birds now?
dead or fled
“come back” the wind billows
the trees shake their barren arms for your sake
you do not come
and there is silence
the saddest song
you never sang
|
||||
21. |
Love Amongst Invalids
00:23
|
|||
Love Amongst Invalids
she is waiting away
like a hospital bed
and a batch of fresh flowers
hiding her books under her pillow and head
and biting her lip
tilting down her hat brim
to force the future
into her too cold palms
|
||||
22. |
Let's (Shadows) Dance
01:21
|
|||
Let’s (Shadows) Dance
I shimmer and shake and you move and howl
as you silently shift and your hair moves with you
and you lock eyes with me
like always
and the world keeps thinking we’re going to kiss
Lets dance,
I dance with your shadow,
my arms wrapped around your outline on the wall
my fingers intertwined with your imagination
I dance with you in my dreams
because if I could in reality
I would
but we both know
that as much as we long to twirl across the tiles
and to let your skirt spin and my feet move
we have other obligations
your fingers dance across the keyboard
like my hands across your body
if we could dance
my words tango across your lips
and make them smile
like your lips would to mine
if we could dance
I samba, and shake,
and you foxtrot to type
but I am not so naive
and you aren’t so unburdened
and we can only let our eyes do the dancing
our hands perfectly spaced apart
we could be in an Bollywood movie
because we are the masters
of only almost kissing.
|
||||
23. |
Dust to Snow
00:34
|
|||
Dust to Snow
this is where the dust settles
and the cold men in frayed jackets come to smoke their cigarettes
you see it all from the comfort of exposure
the diligence of a nap in a thunderstorm
yet no one is snuffed more than you
hidden under your bushel locks
you have become the sole source of bastion
Midas of reason
in your ice cold hand
|
||||
24. |
||||
Paean to the Last Girl Expected for Recess
These were the days of Jesus Christ
who sat under wilting fig trees, consecrating the dynasties of France
and the alcoholism of America
with free handouts at Cana
These were the days of witchcraft
like the buried baby, knocked into the river by ruffians
and high five with beers afterwards
as we war-paint watch through bushes
These were the days of Pagans
with hair like scrolls of wisdom and the blood red sunset
who looked me in the eye like heathens
as I read the Acts of the apostles by halogen
These were the days of Christians
curled in the corners by computers who gave us warmth
listening to the sermons of madmen
and the cockatrice that chimed thrice
These were the days of Angels and Demons
These were the days of God and Gods
These were your days and my days
And I consecrate these days to you
and each moment passes that I wait like a furnace
to light your sacrificial fires and paint ourselves like Delphi
while I drip a bit onto my crucifix
and I long for the color of our lips to meet
and for Lord Jesus to watch with anticipation
as we make peace through pantheons
and I pull you tight against me for Easter and Solstice
and rise again in the ashes of old
These are the days I sacrifice sins at your alter, and wipe myself clean
No more a God then a man, and no more a man then a catalyst
To make myself that which you deserve: the impossible
because every moment you wait
is a day we sacrifice anew
|
||||
25. |
||||
Victory Anthem for the Death of Emperor Julian
Pagan Days and Pagan Nights
and a Milena and a half ago we were on opposite
ends of the world tree
with you lighting brilliant Beltane fires
and me a simple candle
now the Easter lights scorch the night
and you wait up by candlelight
to tell your Gods they aren’t forgot
while my One reigns Supreme and hot
Allah, El Shaddai, and God
Jesus, Moses, Mohammad
Abraham, and maybe Zoroaster
Calling out to God above
While Julian bleeds out on Persian Sand
Maybe when his eyes did close he saw you
and knew his Gods did not yet die, and
gained some peace from your fiery head
the last great Pagan of Rome, was dead
So, here we are, my Christians won
our victory comes at the expense of the sun
And now we kill our fellow believers
over ichor for automobiles
|
||||
26. |
Cascade
07:52
|
|||
Cascade
Like the River to the sea
something just meant to be
like a clash on fervent waters
albatross in stunning colors
like analogy foretold
like you like you like you fold
you splendidly drop off the face of the earth
before I could mutter a single protestation
into the depths of murky dismay
and your eyes make zig zag swirl and spiral away
like the jag of a jaw and the gin of a gurl
there’s nothing that matters when you've vanished
into the cesspool of Cincinnati
there was a church we sang and rang the bell in again the electric chimes from keyboards implanted in the fervent grass of our own mp3's and the last lost lingering lingerie of the never born child we never created and the listless longing lacerations that limbered down your face like a Sunday stroll and a tidal wave. and there was no one but you and there was a torrent of behind the back glances
and she danced with her boy and watched me o'er her shoulder and I crusted my glass and I thought of you bloodiest and remembered and I was castrated and cuttlefish at a Chinese buffet and she was listless, again, and her long hair was radiant like the death of the sun under the yawning horizon and she died again and again and so did I across that room as we danced with her eyes and I regretted being tee-totaller for just a moment to dream a dream of drowned whisky and the cat burger cutlass kindergarten that you cultivate out of stealing the days from the calendar till the year has slipped by into another
and you take over the cesspool of Cincinnati and fold it into your braids and the smell of Cajun food and chocolate we shared like a combined correlation of all those momentary moments you mentioned never remembered like the brick of blood from your head and I stared into the aether and I closed my eyes and we danced together before the cesspool and before the black black longings and the tyrant cried across the land that strong was strength by ripping and gnash, and that to ruin and burn was the mark of a man
and I stood my ground and screamed and screamed and screamed and screamed and screamed and screamed and screamed and stuttered and fell and cried and yelled and got up and spit in your face, life, spit in your brutal ruin and and your tortuous tormented titillation. And I buried my hatchet in your skull and went on.
Like a Native American, from Mound Builder to Casino builder, I watched the imbiciles ruin the good I had slathered across the ground, and use its bricks for toilet paper.
And I'm still shadowed by specters.
Inspector's spectacles were not keen enough to keep off the rolling plunge that riddles rancid rancor over our mouths and we blocked off the roads with candy bars and watched the cars rip through them with four wheel drive and we wondered where we had gone wrong if only we believed more but we didn't and the last light lingered a bit too long.
Like the end of a flower strewn aisle you never came along.
Long ago, before the tides swept in, I was but a courier of dreams
Old dreams, mainly, new dreams, yours, and the dreams of worlds unseen and unwhispered
Mightily I made my rounds, and sat by candles, fountains, streams, and wove those dreams
above our heads like hats, to keep the cold and rain from the dent of our faces
but dreams were never enough against knives
and they cut the shields to rag weeds
and left our dreams violated on the ground.
Like a riptide of tears, and a cascade of all your deepest fears
and it was deeper then deep
and darker then black
and when we opened our eyes
no one could dance because you couldn't even walk
1 specters not talents
2 Define that please?
3 Sorry, I wasn't aware this was annotated
4 Your mom is annotated.
5 You are all but the wasted words at the bottom of a page, left forgotten except for the book nosed scholars that dream of Britannia and Normans and rogues. Roses, like arose, at the words of long dead men, who slept in the beds of long dead girls whose lips were as crimson as
6 Your mom is annotated.
7 A reasonable debate is
8 Pointless.
9 The last thing he said before the sip of smoke suckled him into the parlor, and the invalids stared to greet his crippled skin and skeletal footwork. Like a mummy from Kokomo, where the cars hit the green lights, and the Stillwell starers wait for a sign to cross the current of cars.
and all the cars pass you by on the street corners
and everyone glares with the threat
of yanked hair and tumbling headlines
down a dead road
where only the willow trees go
and their knots and knobs
turn the black river red
seven seven blackbirds sitting in a pie
waiting for the teeth
hear them never never cry
the river runs by and the king is hot
and opens his robe as he feasts on the lot
seven seven blackbirds sitting in a pit
all they are now is one with shit
we wade.
There are tides amidst our feet
cold like milkshakes in our toes
and the sand is dark like thanksgiving
filled and content, as our hands touch between the rocks
but there is nothing so transient as you
and you were always a blackbird
There are nests of birds throughout the world
the bright and brilliant fuckaloo
and the soft and tender songbird
the broken winged blackbird
and the star sworn nightingale
and I wander their eyes through the sky
like hummingbirds
and they are no worse for the feathers they drop
all the better for the songs they sing
like an eternal albatross we sing for you
like a record we stick the needle gash
in your eye and in your arm
and ask you if it feels alright
to curl up in your nest to the falling circumstance of
what could have been a better flight
building up twig branches for the sake of weaving your hair
Into the fibers that hold up your bed
and let you sleep away the stars in your eyes
till the sun God crests the morning
and tells you dreams are worth the shit
you waded through for a chance to fall from the branches
to the nickel lined ground
like a puddle of wish drops
of a father
to his unbelieving daughter
like you always become
Songbird breaks the silence finally, and rises to her own action when the chords break the morning, and she never had the mourning anyways, so she lifts up across the dawn like a linger
Blackbird builds new nests and writes her beak along the dust inscribing new worlds and draws the line in the sand. Decades of months later, she is only her own memories, lost amidst the loss.
Nightingale blesses the morning and puts on her noir feathers, and brims her hair down above her hair and as she walks the night becomes her lantern like an echo of footsteps.
and there is a flock
and I am earthbound
till perhaps I stand in the tides again, my talons soaked in the icy cascade
and screech at the world and batter my wings against the foam
and alift myself to the pinpricks of God
and style myself Ichorus
never born to bird
but born to spit at the Sun
and rise again
till I perpetrate a fitting
wax recipe
till the shores become not torrents
but drifts below me
to which the Birds of night and day may flock to
singing of the lost lands, and the new lands
and the open sky
far below the towering Cascade of God
|
||||
27. |
The Maw Tree
02:39
|
|||
The Maw-Tree
“My cat’s in that tree!”
The fireman lit a cigarette and shrugged.
“Not our business anymore.”
“But it’s my cat.”
“Not my problem.”
“I’m not going to sit here and wait for– for—just get it down now!”
The fireman tapped the ashes off his cancer inhaler.
“Then you get it down.”
The man just stood there, and lowered his head slowly.
“That’s what I thought.”
The man, whose head was shaven, per fashion, didn’t move in the darkness.
“He shouldn’t have let his cat out, he’s just asking for it.”
Another woman nodded, but the third shook her head.
“You can’t blame him. No one wanted this.”
....
As the word spread, lines of pairs of headlights streamed down the concrete like mechanical salmon. Spawning out the doors, gathering around the yard as the cops struggled to hold them back, some threw their own cats across the fence hoping to increase the spectacle. None of the cats climbed the tree though, and they started running around the yard, rubbing upon pleasant objects.
....
The man just stood there, head down.
....
Soon the TV news crews were there, the crowd chanting at the top of their lungs, an anchorman cutting through their lines trying to shout questions to the man in the center of the yard. The cat meowed, covered up by the cacophony around it.
“Why’d you let the cat out Mr. Hendricks?”
“Did you get it to climb the tree Mr. Hendricks?”
“How does your family feel about this?”
They were inside; his wife was hugging their children. Behind a pane of glass they cried into their mother’s bosom.
....
The cacophony continued, a man passed out small bells, another tried to hawk stuffed cat in tree toys, the chant continued. One man made it through the barrier, and was promptly tackled.
....
Chanting, hawking, tearing, leering,
Chanting, hawking, tearing, leering,
Chanting, hawking, tearing, leering!
....
A vast gap opened up in the night sky darker then black and a disembodied mouth like a thousand mechanical spiders reached out with tendrils of arms of teeth of tongues and as the cat’s pupils widened it froze. Only too late did it think to leap from the tree as it was enclosed in the unimaginable.
As it swallowed, the crowd cheered as the sacrifice was complete.
....
The man bowed his head in deference to the darkness.
....
Two blocks away, a pair of men were walking when they saw the brilliant flash of shadow.
“Cat got ate again”
The other shrugged.
“That’s why I keep dogs.”
|
||||
28. |
Urban Legendary
01:03
|
|||
Urban Legendary (Monologue from the play "Cryptos")
ADRIC
In the next town over, just far enough away you can’t bother checking the facts, but close enough the shadows seem at your doorstep, two teenagers went into a dark house. They did so on a dare from some friends, but of their own will from curiosity, and because they wanted to make love, but also because they were chaste. No one seems to nail it down right. As they climbed in through the cracked and shattered windows, they found a home untouched from the great depression till that moment. Plates were laid down for dinner, shoes empty of feet sat by the door. They searched the house, and finding it empty of scares, left the way they came, and were run over by a car as they crossed the street. The girl died in the hospital the next day, while the boy was crippled. The end.
|
||||
29. |
On Cryptozoology
00:51
|
|||
On Cryptozoology (monologue from the play "Cryptos")
ADRIC
The key to making people believe in animals that never have and never will exist is simple, appeal to the instinctual part of their brain that says, "that makes sense." Tell them complicated science, about the vibration of strings and the inner workings of the sun and how it doesn’t actually burn and you’ll get blank stares. Tell them there are giant bears in Russia, sea monsters in Scotland, and ape men in the woods, and they’ll all nod along. Tell them it doesn’t make sense, and they’ll blot you out. So, you indulge them.
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30. |
Nov. 5th
00:57
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Nov. 5
Did your hand turn gunpowder black?
or was that the gallows with carrion hawks?
When the King Shored up the rope and its slack..
Old Guy Fawkes
With his trump and his mask
Did your hand turn gunpowder black?
to spit at a king to whom freedom was pox
the Devil and God both gave you the task
When the King Shored up the rope and its slack..
Shifting in shadows through Parliament locks
arm buried deep an in infernal grain cask
Did your hand turn gunpowder black?
had you any clue that while this crowd mocks
that future ones might call you a hero and bask
When the King Shored up the rope and its slack..
Kingdoms would rock with your face on their vox
waiting and cheering and screaming to ask
Did your hand turn gunpowder black,
When the King Shored up the rope and its slack?
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31. |
Blastoise
00:26
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Blastoise
Water guzzling milk drinker
blurping out gallons of gazillions
of wet wet wild waste
installed from birth
titanium supersoakers
clearly rust proof
makes me wonder about God in Kanto
Our God cleansed the world with a flood
theirs built turtles that could
shuck out floods with their shoulder blades
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32. |
An Unearthly Child
00:49
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1.1 An Unearthly Child
She was so distant
like hands and inch from holding
her gaze on the circumference of molecules
and the voodoo of Circe
wrapped up in her palm
only almost in contact
like a fiber selected off a cloth for analysis
or witchcraft
she hurtled through my birth and death
and chuckled at my protoplasm
taking lunch with Darwin
and tea with Moses
on a casual Sunday and tomorrow
she slipped through our fingers
unable to be grasped/out of reach
but never once out of time
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33. |
The Abominable Snowmen
00:52
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5.2 The Abominable Snowmen
And we sing our darkening hymn
born of pasts that couldn't begin
lord of memories, thoughts, genetically
nothing is there at all.
Yog-Soggoth, mind to be
hear these halls eternally
cough your ledger, gnash your pleasure
horrid my mind, soon to be
chanting on, though monster and climb
Himalayas, Yetis, or time
sing orb praises
still amazes
burning our thoughts to dust
Yog-Soggoth, mind to be
Great Intelligence, tis thee
tear our heads off, scream our leisure
slaves of your path are we
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34. |
The Enemy of the World
01:01
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5.4 The Enemy of the World
You're so full of your own intent
sunning on rocks by the riverbed
I thought I'd return the compliment
somehow I see you with imminent faces
but the looks don't mask the depths of that head
you're so full of your own intent
Chernobyling notions with hunkering bases
such a clever man for so many dead
I thought I'd return the compliment
but how many sleeves shave how many faces
can you keep the world or your own mouth fed?
You're so full of your own intent
the world is far more than a long list of places
begging to be led
I thought I'd return the compliment
so have this gift of infinite spaces
spiraling out in the stars till zed
you're so full of your own intent
I thought I'd return the compliment
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35. |
The Mind Robber
00:22
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6.2 The Mind Robber
Memory lies
on the face of pages
where we open up
to curl into corners
with Gulliver and friends
climbing Rapunzel's hair
into the white nothing
only we can fill
with ink and a dream
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36. |
Carnival of Monsters
00:23
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10.2 Carnival of Monsters
Bottled and Corked
in every conceived vintage
they stir and crumple and writhe
waiting in miniature
to take bites out of moon
and take up the moonlight
into the glowing belly
of television monstrosities
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37. |
Pyramids of Mars
00:22
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13.3 Pyramids of Mars
Set aside in the Eye of Horus
we watch the red soil
for something Set
cast into the end of time
climbing up their sides
like Israelites
and breaking into the tomb
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38. |
Kinda
00:13
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19.3 Kinda
open up your eyes
----Like a kiss
to venom
and the power
of the shake of your hips
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39. |
Vengeance on Varos
00:43
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22.2 Vengeance on Varos
Channel 1
Today we have the murder of
two children
via electrified teddy bears
the news at 8
Channel 4
With Jennifer out of the running
will Kylie switch out Anna's
Mascara for acid?
The News at 11
Channel 5
Seven strangers all compete
for who will not get to pay
child support
the news at 12
Channel 6
The President will face torture
again to see if his policies pan out
that actually is the news
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40. |
Time and the Rani
00:43
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24.1 Time and the Rani
Rani means Queen
and a Queen is a Queen
with Green skinned work shifts
like Efalba in spades
digging your sand castle hives
Rani means Queen
and a Queen is a hive
with all your faces faltering
like a former best friend
wearing the clothes of your roommate
and Mel is a way
stinging the Bees with honey
and bitter belief
as you barter brain-stems
Rani means Queen
and a Queen is still a Bee
with all your hopeless buzzing
like a paper crown
wailing to the long truth of irrelevance
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41. |
The Long Game
00:40
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1.7 The Long Game
Oh poor Adam! You really did try
to march right up to that box in the sky
you thought that adventure would be in your lot
but really just Rose thought you were hot
now every day you fear that you’ll snap
and you hide in your home with your mom like a sap
and someday the Doctor will fix up your head?
Nah, he forgot you, you’re better off dead
Oh poor Adam, you really did try
now you’ll stare at the stars till you sigh.
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42. |
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2.4 The Girl in the Fireplace
I was just a girl
before a real mademoiselle
circumventing the heating system
with fairies for chimney sweeps
who rolled away into the future
on clockwork hands
now I am a Pompadour and Circumstance
still wound around fate
Annette weight on your heart
of the warmth I waited for
around an empty hearth
you should have
inspected again
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43. |
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2.8 The Impossible Planet
Before lies
there was only the ideal of dust to aspire to
and the clomping of the long driven hooves
of severed exploration
into the mists
reaching out your hand
to touch beyond your blood flow
and clasping at
coals you freeze
into the improbability
of something coarse past your brain cells
like a shard of glass in a prayer
2.9 The Satan Pit
We made stars to crack the silence ™
A low flat eternity ago
we roped horned heresy
dumping it past the event horizon
into assembly line Hells
a veritable office party
for the lull in forever
forged in cracked stars
to hush the silence of the darkness
with the screams of witchcraft
Hail, Lord of Lows
the idea of your eyes
scream fountains into the pit
black of dynasties
Lucifer of unknowable segments
of torn tatters
angel wings
that cannot fly
wrapped around lingering doubt
in the carnal heave
of carnivorous Time Lords
?(Time Gone Fly
out and about
in the wild and darkness
shadowed by choler
eclipsed by the
motion of time rotors
geared gizmos
unable to weep
for 1,000 dead sisters)?
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44. |
Smith and Jones
00:46
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3.1 Smith and Jones
A Judoon Platoon on the Moon?
why did you assume that would be a boon
only a loon would attune to the goon
that harpooned Doctor Eun and its
not even noon in June to Harpoon
with Judoon on the moon! So soon!
Don’t listen to a tune on your Zune,
I know I make you swoon across this lunar dune
you’re a Doctor? I am too! Fate like runes!
bandits together like raccoons
leading to our Judoom
Smith and Jones to the rescue then
to assume the doom Judoon will zoom
into the room and entomb us like a womb
with a boom on the moon
we’ll weave this all up like a loom, this doom
and then no more Judoon
will harpoon in platoons on the moon
I assume?
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45. |
The Shakespeare Code
00:50
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3.2 The Shakespeare Code
Blue Boxes bade the borrowed night to past
self sure to unDonne sorrows which he masked
to which a witch would wish he sandwiched fast
between the plays unmade and brews uncasked
his words were fire so lit his temper tasked
no bards could better build than Will to mind
undue respect, a million pens were asked
and idiots said that he twas Marlowe’s kind
or Oxford, picking noses ‘snot to find
one trace aside from Shakespeare’s wit and words
the not meant only witchcraft came where signed
a cure by TARDIS only from the nerds
so they undoubting, they whom think it true
will find in Shakespeare, Love and Doctor Who
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46. |
Gridlock
00:10
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3.3 Gridlock
Trapped on a turntable
round and round we go
with Sally Calypso
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47. |
The Family of Blood
01:20
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3.9 The Family of Blood
There is no wrath like an angered god
who grants our wishes with storm cloud trod
drenched in kindness, his cold heart swells
dreams written down like the book of Kells
till Morpheus affirmed the end to peace with nods
there is no wrath like an angered God
who lives without that wedding dress or Bells
A field of family he will never sod
drenched in Kindness, his cold heart swells
when friendship dives away your tells
and all you meant was to spare the rod
there is no wrath like an angered god
shivering stageplay humanity along the dolls
a fake Englishman to bring our screams inside our pod
drenched in kindness, his cold heart swells
a family slit by blood to bond in hells
our slumbers Heaven’s chains to make us odd
there is no wrath like an angered god
drenched in kindness, his cold heart swells
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48. |
Blink
00:21
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3.10 Blink
Here
and not
in tears
past the start
we lay down
so our young hands
can wither
to the music of raindrops
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49. |
The Sound of Drums
01:15
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3.12 The Sound of Drums
I’ll break the world beneath my thumbs
You’ll hear the noise that I’m its Master
This pounding, pounding, sound of drums
And you think yourself their savior factor
But you just make me tear skies faster
I’ll break the world beneath my thumbs
Can’t you hear the boiling drums, listen Doctor
hear their song. Are they the choir, I the Pastor?
This pounding, pounding, sound of drums
And this girl you march on warring vector
She’ll walk the earth, but I’ll in time out last her
I’ll break the world beneath my thumbs
While you for thousand years were just reactor
I call on eons, command death, the castor
This pounding, pounding, sound of drums
This world will burn as Troy, with you its Hector
Called from the depths with “Hastur! Hastur!”
I’ll break the world beneath my thumbs
This pounding, pounding, sound of drums.
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50. |
Vincent and the Doctor
00:56
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5.10 Vincent and the Doctor
Flowing whirls and swirls
color pearls formed at moonlight
each dab exonerating light
mooring the sundials of the sky to architects
craft the world in oils
as it was dreamed and as it soared
petty definition be damned
for flowers are more than the vein of a petal
and a face holds a soul under rotting skin
a beaming pulse in canvas
smeared sky brights stars that dim
candles beneath the black cloak
that courses through,
soaring out in blue, red, gold
and twisting in time
to choreograph our astrology
and the geography of the matrimony
of our feet to the soil
with the slight slick strokes
of a magician’s brush
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51. |
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6.13 The Wedding of River Song
You always told me with your eyes
that I was something special
when I’m not
I’m nothing
like an unblinking drool lipped
pantheon of one
for hedgehogs
burrowed in the dirt till you can’t make
name nor tail of me
because I deserve to suffer under shutters
so stop telling me I’m worth it
and tearing the hands of clocks off
to hold me tighter than I deserve
stop it
till you flow into my heart
like the untempered stream you are
and I don’t deserve you
and who cares if I want you
but you love me
and every star in the sky stutters to
tell me that again.
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52. |
Asylum of the Daleks
00:52
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7.1 Asylum of the Daleks
I was a Ballerina
tight and twirling
before I was canned like beef hash
and sworn into pieces
Moloch in a tutu gown
I was a lover
so was she
and our fingers used to touch
before they were cut off
and replaced with toilet cleaners
I was a human
and they called me Oswin of Alaska
now I am a tin shell
and a puddle of tears
with no tear ducts
and we are human
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53. |
Night of the Doctor
00:20
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P Night of the Doctor (#1)
So good to see you again
and say goodbye
to all the days you only spoke of
drinking a cup of Hurt
to end the long drought
of those wilderness years
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54. |
To the Daleks
00:22
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To the Daleks
I never liked you.
You talk really slow.
Get better spaceships, what is this,
Martians attack? Flying Saucers?
Come on Daleks!
PS: You sound funny and
your noses are your eyes
does that bother you?
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55. |
That Towering Blue
01:24
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That Towering Blue
Mercy Me, and mercy to you
Ten hail Mary’s
Veil of TARDIS hue
You ain’t got shit
I’ll tell you
High on the mountaintop
In that Towering Blue
Praising Paul and praising Pain
Putting down a needle on “Aladdin Sane”
You can’t drawn blood
Not in this vein
Mining for ore
Bleeding Vampire Stew
High on the Mountaintop
In that Towering Blue
I can’t open and look
Without smothering you
High on the mountaintop
Brewing a Fool
The Helix is crushed
Under snow boots of Yule
Casting out stars
In a deafening rue
I think you would
If only you knew
High on the mountaintop
In that Towering Blue
Didn’t it seem like these dreams
Could breed broods?
Didn’t the world say you understood?
Didn’t the night time roll
Back in your head?
You’re built up a world
In a lone bitter mood
Singing an anthem
With Lyrics entombed
The magic is ending
The wind scars your view
High on the Mountaintop
In that Towering Blue
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56. |
Factoid
00:08
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Factoid
Its not a love poem to just say
“you’re pretty”
but you are
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James Wylder Elkhart, Indiana
Author of "An Eloquence of Time and Space", "10,000 Dawns", and "Cryptos."
Learn more at jameswylder.com
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