|
|
1974 |
1. | |
2. | |
3. | |
4. | Cuckoo Cocoon |
5. | |
6. | The Grand Parade Of Lifeless Packaging |
7. | Back In NYC |
8. | Hairless Heart |
9. | Counting Out Time |
10. | |
11. | The Chamber Of 32 Doors |
12. | Lilywhite Lilith |
13. | The Waiting Room |
14. | |
15. | Here Comes The Supernatural Anaesthetist |
16. | |
17. | Silent Sorrow In Empty Boats |
18. | |
19. | Ravine |
20. | The Light Dies Down On Broadway |
21. | Riding The Scree |
22. | In The Rapids |
23. | It |
|
. . .
|
|
The lamb lies down on Broadway
And the lamb lies down on Broadway.
Early morning Manhattan,
Ocean winds blow on the land.
The Movie-Palace is now undone,
The all-night watchmen have had their fun.
Sleeping cheaply on the midnight show,
It's the same old ending-time to go.
Get out!
It seems they cannot leave their dream.
There's something moving in the sidewalk steam,
And the lamb lies down on Broadway.
Nightime's flyers feel their pains.
Drugstore takes down the chains.
Metal motion comes in bursts,
But the gas station can quench that thirst.
Suspension cracked on unmade road
The trucker's eyes read 'Overload'
And out on the subway,
Rael Imperial Aerosol Kid
Exits into daylight, spraygun hid,
And the lamb lies down on Broadway.
The lamb seems right out of place,
Yet the Broadway street scene finds a focus in its face.
Somehow it's lying there,
Brings a stillness to the air.
Though man-made light, at night is very bright,
There's no whitewash victim,
As the neons dim, to the coat of white.
Rael Imperial Aerosol Kid,
Wipes his gun-he's forgotten what he did,
And the lamb lies down on Broadway.
Suzanne tired her work all done,
Thinks money-honey-be on-neon.
Cabman's velvet glove sounds the horn
And the sawdust king spits out his scorn.
Wonder women draw your blind!
Don't look at me! I'm not your kind.
I'm Rael!
Something inside me has just begun,
Lord knows what I have done,
And the lamb lies down on Broadway.
On Broadway-
They say the lights are always bright on Broadway.
They say there's always magic in the air.
. . .
|
|
Theres something solid forming in the air,
and the wall of death is lowered in Times Square.
No one seems to care,
they carry on as if nothing was there.
The wind is blowing harder now,
blowing dust into my eyes.
The dust settles on my skin,
making a crust I cannot move in.
And Im hovering like a fly,
waiting for the windshield on the freeway.
. . .
|
|
Echoes of the Broadway Everglades,
with her mythical madonnas still walking in their shades:
Lenny Bruce, declares a truce and plays his other hand.
Marshall McLuhan, casual viewin, head buried in the sand.
Sirens on the rooftops wailing, but theres no ship sailing.
Groucho, with his movies trailing, stands alone with his punchline failing.
Klu Klux Klan serve hot soul food and the band plays "In the Mood".
The cheerleader waves her cyanide wand,
theres a smell of peach blossom and bitter almonde.
Caryl Chessman sniffs the air and leads the parade, he know in a scent,
you can bottle all you made.
There's Howard Hughes in blue suede shoes,
smiling at the majorettes smoking Winston Cigarettes.
And as the song and dance begins,
the children play at home with needles; needles and pins.
. . .
|
|
. . .
|
|
I got sunshine in my stomach
Like I just rocked my baby to sleep.
I got sunshine in my stomach
But I can't keep me from creeping sleep,
Sleep, deep in the deep.
Rockface moves to press my skin
White liquids turn sour within
Turn fast - turn sour
Turn sweat - turn sour.
Must tell myself that I'm not here.
I'm drowning in a liquid fear.
Bottled in a strong compression,
My distortion shows obsession
In the cave.
Get me out of this cave !
If I keep self-control,
I'll be safe in my soul.
And the childhood belief
Brings a moment's relief,
But my cynic soon returns
And the lifeboat burns.
My spirit just never learns.
Stalactites, stalagmites
Shut me in, lock me tight.
Lips are dry, throat is dry.
Feel like burning, stomach churning,
I'm dressed up in a white costume
Padding out left-over room.
Body stretching, feel the wretching
In the cage
Get me out of the cage!
In the glare of a light
I see a strange kind of sight;
O cages joined to from a star
Each person can't go very far;
All tied to their things
They are netted by their strings,
Free to flutter in memories of their wasted wings.
Outside the cage I see my brother John,
He turn his head so slowly round.
I cry out "Help!" before he can be gone,
And he looks at me without a sound.
And I shout out "John please help me !"
But he does not even want to try to speak.
I'm helpless in my violent rage
And a silent tear of blood dribbles down his cheek.
My little runaway.
In a trap, feel a starp
Holding still, Pinned for kill.
Chances narrow that I'll make it,
In the cushioned straitjacket.
Just like 22nd St,
And they got me by my neck and feet.
Pressure's building, can't take more.
My headache's charged. Earaches roar.
In this pain
Get me out of this pain.
If I could change to liquid,
I could fill the cracks up in the rock,
But I know that I am solid
And I am my own bad luck.
Outside John disappears and my cage dissolves,
And without any reason my body revolvess.
Keep on turning
Keep on turning
Keep on turning
Keep on turning
Keep on turning
Turning around
Just spinning around.
Down, down, down..........
. . .
|
The Grand Parade Of Lifeless Packaging |
. . .
|
|
. . .
|
|
. . .
|
|
. . .
|
|
There is lambswool under my naked feet.
The wool is soft and warm,
-gives off some kind of heat.
A salamander scurries into flame to be destroyed.
Imaginary creatures are trapped in birth on celluloid.
The fleas cling to the golden fleece,
Hoping they'll find peace.
Each thought and gesture are caught in celluloid.
There's no hiding in my memory.
There's no room to void.
The crawlers cover the floor in the red ochre corridor.
For my second sight of people, they've more lifeblood than before.
They're moving. They're moving in time to a heavy wooden door,
Where the needle's eye is winking, closing in on the poor.
The carpet crawlers heed their callers:
"We've got to get in to get out
We've got to get in to get out."
There's only one direction in the faces that I see;
It's upward to the ceiling, where the chambers said to be.
Like the forest fight for sunlight, that takes root in every tree.
They are pulled up by the magnet, believing that they're free.
The carpet crawlers heed their callers:
"We've got to get in to get out
We've got to get in to get out."
Mild mannered supermen are held in kryptonite,
And the wise and foolish virgins giggle with their bodies glowing bright.
Through a door a harvest feast is lit by candlight;
It's the bottom of a staircase that spirals out of sight.
The carpet crawlers heed their callers:
"We've got to get in to get out
We've got to get in to get out."
The porcelain mannikin with shattered skin fears attack.
The eager pack lift up their pitchers- the carry all they lack.
The liquid has congealed, which has seeped out through the crack,
And the tickler takes his stickleback.
The carpet crawlers heed their callers:
"We've got to get in to get out
We've got to get in to get out."
. . .
|
|
. . .
|
|
. . .
|
|
. . .
|
|
All the pumping's nearly over for my sweet heart,
This is the one for me,
Time to meet the chef,
O boy! running man is out of death.
Feel cold and old, it's getting hard to catch my breath.
's back to ash, 'now, you've had your flash boy'
The rocks, in time, compress
your blood to oil,
your flesh to coal,
enrich the soil,
not everybody's goal.
Anyway, they say she comes on a pale horse,
But I'm sure I hear a train.
O boy! I don't even feel no pain -
I guess I must be driving myself insane.
Damn it all! does earth plug a hole in heaven,
Or heaven plug a hole in earth - 'how wonderful to be so profound,
when everything you are is dying underground.'
There's not much spectacle for an underground creole as he walks through the gates of Sheol. "I would have preferred to have been jettisoned into a thousand pieces in space, or filled with helium and floated above a mausoleum. This is no way to pay my last subterranean homesick dues. Anyway I'm out of the hands of any pervert embalmer doing his interpretation of what I should look like, stuffing his cotton wool in my cheeks."
I feel the pull on the rope, let me off at the rainbow.
I could have been exploding in space
Different orbits for my bones
Not me, just quietly buried in stones,
Keep the deadline open with my maker!
See me stretch; for God's elastic acre
The doorbell rings and its
"Good morning Rael
So sorry you had to wait.
It won't be long, yeh!
She's very rarely late."
. . .
|
Here Comes The Supernatural Anaesthetist |
. . .
|
|
The scent grows richer, he knows he must be near,
He finds a long passageway lit by chandelier.
Each step he takes, the perfumes change
From familiar fragrance to flavours strange.
A magnificent chamber meets his eye.
Inside, a long rose-water pool is shrouded by fine mist.
Stepping in the moist silence, with a warm breeze hes gently kissed.
Thinking he is quite alone,
He enters the room, as if it were his own,
But ripples on the sweet pink water
Reveal some company unthought of.
Rael stands astonished doubting his sight,
Struck by beauty, gripped in fright.
Three vermilion snakes of female face,
The smallest motion, filled with grace.
Muted melodies fill the echoing hall,
But there is no sign of warning in the sirens call:
Rael welcome, we are the Lamia of the pool.
We have been waiting for our waters to bring you cool.
Putting fear beside him, he trusts in beauty blind,
He slips into the nectar, leaving his shredded clothes behind.
With their tongues, they test, taste and judge all that is mine.
They move in a series of caresses
That glide up and down my spine.
As they nibble the fruit of my flesh, I feel no pain,
Only a magic that a name would stain.
With the first drop of my blood in their veins
Their faces are convulsed in mortal pains.
The fairest cries, We all have loved you Rael.
Each empty snakelike body floats,
Silent sorrow in empty boats.
A sickly sourness fills the room,
The bitter harvest of a dying bloom.
Looking for motion I know I will not find,
I stroke the curls now turning pale, in which Id lain entwined
O Lamia, your flesh that remains I will take as my food
It is the scent of garlic that lingers on my choclate fingers.
Looking behind me, the water turns icy blue,
The lights are dimmed and once again the stage is set for you.
. . .
|
Silent Sorrow In Empty Boats |
. . .
|
|
The Arrival.
Rael:
I wandered lonely as a cloud,
Till I came upon this dirty street.
I've never seen a stranger crowd;
Slubberdegullions on squeaky feet,
Continually pacing,
With nonchalant embracing,
Each orifice disgracing
And one facing me moves to say "hellay".
Your skin's all covered in slimy lumps.
With lips that slide across each chin.
His twisted limbs like rubber stumps
Are waved in welcome say "Please join in:"
My grip must be flipping,
Cos his handshake keeps slipping,
My hopes keep on dipping
And his lips keep on smiling all the time.
Slipperman:
"We, like you, have tasted love.
Don't be alarmed at what you see,
You yourself are just the same
As what you see in me."
Rael:
Me, like you? Like that!
Slipperman:
"You better watch it son, your sentence has only just begun
You better run and join your brother John:'
A Visit to the Doktor.
Slipperman:
"You're in the colony of slippermen.
There's no who? why? what? or when?
You can get out if you've got the gripe To see, Doktor Dyper, reformed sniper- he'll whip off your windscreenwiper
Rael:
John and I are able
To face the Doktor and his marble table.
The Doktor:
Understand Rael, that's the end of your tail.
Rael:
"Don't delay, dock the dick!"
I watch his countdown timer tick . . .
The Raven.
He places the number into a tube,
It's a yellow plastic shoobedoobe.
It says: "Though your fingers may tickle
You'll be safe in our pickle."
Suddenly, black cloud come down from the sky.
Its a supersized black bird that sure can fly.
The raven brings on darkness and night
He flies right down, gives me one hell of a fright.
He takes the tube right out of my hands
Man, I've got to find where that black bird lands.
"Look here John, I've got to run
I need you now, you're going to come?"
He says to me:
John:
"Now can't you see
Where the raven flies there's jeopardy?
We've been cured on the couch
Now you're sick with your grouch.
I'll not risk my honey pouch
Which my slouch will wear slung very low."
Rael:
He walks away and leaves me once again.
Even though I never learn,
I'd hoped he'd show just some concern.
I'm in the agony of Slipperpain
I pray my undercarriage will sustain.
The chase is on, the pace is hot
But I'm running so very hard with everything that I've got.
He leads me down an underpass
Though it narrows, he still flies very fast.
When the tunnel stops
Catch sight of the tube, just as it drops.
I'm on top of a bank too steep to climb
I see it hit the water just in time
to watch it float away, watch it float away, watch it float away . . .
. . .
|
|
. . .
|
The Light Dies Down On Broadway |
. . .
|
|
. . .
|
|
. . .
|
|
. . .
|
|