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






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