posted on February 11, 2012 at 11:44 pm

yeah the flesh eating air apparently writhing

insulting this night a charger a flier

i’m a liar my story started the fire

river was dam king was sire

i interwove words you wanted to hear

i wrote down the things that were stones in your heart

you maybe surprised

but up in these tree tops

you hear all manner of echoes and things

some weird creatures fighting out there in the darkness

the valley drops way and into the night

a motorbike accelerates down a floodway of light

particles vibrate too fast for our eyesight

hannibal barca broke my sword and

attilla the hun stole my surfboard

you know somethings happened to me

i swear by our lady of the snows

tho her mercy and her honour come to blows

tho this memory of this evening when she rose

i stood within a chamber no one goes

i stood within a grove as silence grows

i stood within a spaceship tippy toes

i stood within the womb without my close

i stood in your place and i withstood your foes

take me back to phoenicia and casuarina sands

ive wandered several wildernesses

in several different lands

but every wilderness is different

tho every paradise  be the same

one day you’ll meet the architect

maybe he’ll tell you his real name

maybe he can tell you where to lay the blame

maybe he’ll be hidden in storm or in flame

or walking with a jaguar and leopard both tame

riding a whirlwind right out of the frame

i got a phoney letter of some new accord

and attilla the hun stole my surfboard

its saturday night here just after midnight

i think about my long long life

all these thoughts with their burdens

the beast at least last

tho last before least is your humble bard

the charlemagne of crash drop bang

the child card the jack of spades

tho not jack of all trades

(and then the music fades)

we travel back throughout time in our head

tho time is harder to pierce than solid rock

once inside it you’ll slide limitlessly effortlessly

1972 was forty years gone

some method of retrieval is approached through science

or prayer or yoga or some spirit invoked

yet 72 appears to me now

the ghosts of the players still acting on

the memory of  people  the radar of bat

both steering us on invisibly

we form impressions of hazards and warmths

as we seem to fly blindly through forest and city

i see all those obstacles now in my purview

i see the documents attached to my shadow

i see the wonderful depths of a lake

waters teeming with drowned mirages

the indigo melancholic mood has just thickened

the pulse of the joker has suddenly quickened

the taste of the crowd has suddenly sickened

i asked you the way you sullenly beckoned

nothing here i can afford

and attilla the hun stole my surfboard

 

 

 

 

 

14 Responses to “attilla the hun stole my surfboard”

  1. avatar
    kell | 12 February 2012 at 1:45 am #

    I hope not, hun. But maybe it’s for the best, stopping u from drifting out past the breakers..’tho I’m sure you’d be fine if that happened…1972 is/was an important year. The Sirian Intervention, or in plain terms, many cool people born onto the planet to “assist”. I’m trying to help one of them now, (‘tho I was born 3 yrs later)….c’mon, WAKE UP! REMEMBER (for _hrist’s sake). Please? Okay, no then. Stay…..half asleep in a doomsday muddied scenario set out for you by the masses….i’m goin’ elsewhere…hopefully there’s quite a few of us coming….i think you are…

  2. avatar
    BROKEN TOYS AND HEROS | 12 February 2012 at 1:55 am #

    That was fantastic…had a creapy uneasy feeling about it as if pened by Poe or early early King. Beware of what lurks above and within the trees tops jazzmaster…for if you obtain the knowledge of their whereabouts you will be dealt with swiftly before forthnight.
    I love the eerie sense of hidden dread witch may lie upa
    ahead…

    I am looking forward to the video presentation, one can only wunder if an olde collegue of yours , possibly Bif, will be impatiently called upon to do the narrative…
    He will not be fond of the new diggs and rage plus jealousy will surely set in,
    like in that video bio he attempted witch flamed out sadly back in 82’of Nicole’s vain teenage years acting out her ABBA fantasies.

    That was an odd year in real estate showings and sales…

    Dazza

    • avatar
      thetimebeing | 12 February 2012 at 10:10 am #

      hmmmm

      • avatar
        BROKEN TOYS AND HEROS | 12 February 2012 at 2:25 pm #

        Every time I write and than reread it I say the same thing
        …hhhmmmmmmmhmm
        …………..
        ……..
        ..:.
        ..

  3. avatar
    kell | 12 February 2012 at 1:56 am #

    Major correction….~ “by those who try to CONTROL the masses”….

  4. avatar
    verdelay | 12 February 2012 at 6:34 am #

    Seventy Two, oh yes baby, that’s my mark, my manifestation, my mainline to spacetime: Drake basks under a Pink-a Moon; the Stones go into Exile, Roxy play Roxy; T-Rex Slide; Lou Reed Transforms; Bowie gets Ziggy with it; the sixties finally die, the seventies finally start…and Harry gets lucky and catches some air…

    And all this a forty year (blink)

    v

  5. avatar
    colette | 12 February 2012 at 10:45 am #

    ‘Take me back to phoenicia’ and may you arrive and arise like a phoenix… or else… does the Phoenician Club still exist?

  6. avatar
    Stewart | 12 February 2012 at 12:33 pm #

    That’s amazing. I love it. Thanks.

  7. avatar
    colette | 12 February 2012 at 10:19 pm #

    A scene of dreadful carthage

  8. avatar
    hellbound heart | 14 February 2012 at 7:43 pm #

    Dali-esque….
    xx


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