Not a word here rhymes with anything

 

Curse the enigmatic and solitary case

All things seem simple on their face

below the surface

the waters get muddied

Contradicts all that you have studied

Histories written on the wing

not a word here rhymes with anything

A trick of rhetoric, verbal play

always talking yet little to say

Icebergs will grow

the deeper you dive

and differing conclusions will arrive

What new truths do they bring

not a word here rhymes with anything

Not adding up, the numbers aren't right

Try and try with all your might

Once it is twisted

it can not grow straight 

You can still try

but it may be too late

Seductive, like the sirens sing

not a word here rhymes with anything

Insomnia

Two espressos, after dinner

a Blueshift Signal, oceans away

It didn't seem so late

the light still hanging on

and dusk passed to darkness unaware

Subtle, silent invitation

to share those crisp and scented sheets

The moments and passions

are cruelly spent

with so much of the night still to die

The Ficus with colored strands alight 

shines indifference so convincing

while polychromic shadows

upon the ceiling dance

Wide awake, staring, can't look away

There is some other place or time

that I might possibly belong

Other side of the mirror

of a Deja vu that's been

A thing that tells me I must leave

Insomniacs apologize

for the sorry state they are in

to the quiet conscience

of those who sleep

The Jealous Pool

 Her waters are seen and oft mistaken

Her depths colored green for hopes forsaken

All will drink from this toxic well,

most unknowing and few would tell

Thou shalt not covet,

we are admonished

Some think nothing of it

then act astonished

when they are rebuked for the deed

Kissing cousin to a thing called greed

and other dark colors deep within

Some like to say it’s original sin

Most of the isms drawn from this font

are leveraged upon what others want

When all their falsehoods have filled your head

you’re left blind to the fact it’s for them instead

There is no care for what you think

After sating their thirst on that poison drink

Vert

 

Wet

Emerald green velvet

where wood nymphs whisper

Guardians of a sylvan secret

these creatures of light 

they glow as fireflies in the night

welcome the Muses in their flight

from a world gone mad

Spirit away these gentle Wraiths

to the quiet sanctum within

they chant their woeful hymn

and weep silver tears to kiss the soil

They are the lost and abandoned Foil

to ears that hear yet no longer listen

Their Gifts unappreciated

desensitized and vacant

no attachment to the Ancient

a quiet exit

Exile

The Children of Swine

bigger, better, faster, more

nothing new beneath the sun

we've already seen this all before

since the last war was won

castles built to survive to dust

better than nature's own

leave instead only dying rust

amid weeds overgrown

the promise of joy only disappointed

sad ruins in the dirt

this vision of the self-anointed

never intended any hurt

results don't matter, only virtue

and someone else to blame

when your own actions never hurt you

never feeling any shame 

you can have your stinking pig sties

your pens of steel and glass

I choose instead the clear skies

the rocks, the trees and grass

because nothing of your making

can satisfy any need

but your own need for taking

your constant, unbridled greed

pigs will be pigs, it's always been true

even unto eating their own

the children of swine have not a clue

of the whirlwind they have sown 

Overpass Confessions

 

Through watering eyes

the tunnel below

White lights in a streaking blur

Diesel fume's

Sweet perfume

Suddenly not so sure

The convictions brought you to this place

lose their momentum

in the face

of your sobering confrontation

Your mortality awaits

Surrendering all hope

yet still pray the end is painless

Like a fly on the windshield

because you couldn't buy the rope

Survivor's Guilt

 

I'd go back and save them all

if I could

probably wrong to do so

For reasons not for us to know

their deaths served some purpose

I would save them for selfish reasons

For good or ill, part of my own

Only wanting to discover

where continued intersections lead

So selfish

No respect for their wishes

or desires of those passed

Might not even have been a part

or grown to be someone's villain

We read the book

the art you commended

Now acquainted with the inspiration

and feeling quite unmoved

A well-practiced leer at the Rumba Bar

a girl dancing looked like Annie

Made me think

of a home so far away

Lone Tree

 He stands alone

through all seasons

in silent vigil

The sun has set low

now bare limbs reach

into the cold blue

the barren fields

prostrate before his crown

Sleep for the Winter

beneath his watch

the earth where sisters once stood

where crows now set their perch

lives pass anon

Patient he waits

his memory long

for the return of days

that the till should fall idle

When the snows abate

and winds again blow gentle

the fertile earth unfolds

accepting the seed

a forest will reclaim

The Pale Horse

 credit to Pennsylvania artist Benjamin West's rendering of Death Rides a Pale Horse & to Peter Gabriel for lyrical inspiration

Death rides a Pale Horse,

or so it's been said

Though none know for certain,

except for the dead

The outdated metaphor

for post industrial age

This steed has been blindered

and placed in a cage

A mere horse could not carry

all the killing required

So the rider dismounted

and the ride is retired

There are no green paddocks

where he is put out to stud,

for the Pale Horse is sterile;

his seed is a dud

So he lives out his last days,

where he's feeling no pain

Death rides not a Pale Horse

No, I'm sure it's a train

His four legs still willing

to carry Death's charge,

but the saddle a burden

that's grown much too large

Death has a mission

that none shall impinge

If not on a Pale Horse

then by the syringe

Death will ride still,

for what the Pale Horse may lack,

is easily delivered

by a train on a track

So heed well, friend, at crossings

Again the refrain

Death rides not a Pale Horse

No, I'm sure it's a train

A New Face in Hell

 

At last an end to the long charade

Go now, cue up the kazoo parade

Open the gate and sound the knell,

for today there is a new face in Hell

For all the seeds of war he has sown,

the Devil now comes to reclaim his own

Regime change was his preferred milieu,

but sadly, now we bid adieu

No redemption nor mercy mild

for Haliburton's Golden Child 

No more contracts, no more wars to sell

when you're a war pig roasting in Hell

The game is over, time expires

as pig fat drips into the fires

He gave it all he had to give,

that fattest war pig to ever live

He'll double down, not change his tune

Knowing Lindsay Graham may join him soon

Open the gate and sound the knell

for today there is a new face in Hell

Take it away, Mark....

Nature of Authority

most of them are crying

sure they have lost their way

they fail to see the lying

that has led their path astray

others still are just waiting

for the swift and silent end

when there is no anticipating

simply carried off with the wind

like the mouse in Owl's talons

plucked from an open plain

it's a sacrificial balance

where every loss results a gain

without the rule of fang and claw

the weaker species will ascend

the substitution of their law

will bring about that species' end  

Lawfare

 No new tales to tell

No alibis left to sell

No more heroes to be found

Where none are sought villains abound

The tale as told is quite fantastic

Stern, they scold, their faces plastic

Utter ruin for those they accuse

Their courts and robes are just a ruse

Claims of so and so said such and such

Specious at best, they don't say much

Whispers and screams of crimes committed

get lost it seems amid the facts omitted

Immune to your own brand of berating

It makes for thin ice where you're skating

There will be no hero to save the day

when that ice, at last, finally gives way

It's often better down under

 It's 2025!? WTF man... when did that happen? Oh!... right, I remember now. Welcome to Midnight and other beasts. First time? It's not too late. You can still turn back. I didn't and... well, you know. 

Alright then. You were warned. Anything that happens after this is on YOU. Today we're going to do something different. New year, new shit. Right? We're going to explore some music, albeit through a series of Screwtube videos, but with a theme. As the title implies we're going to visit our Anglospheric cousins down under. Aussie or Kiwi. Sorry, you all sound the same to us.

Without further ado, we'll begin with yer average Sheila next door...

Well, despite her notable respiratory challenges this lady is clear voiced and pretty handy with a guitar. A pretty fair backing band too, I'd say. These videos are sourced from Courtney's own page and you will find links therein for her site. If you're already a fan that's great! If you like what you heard here I'd encourage you to explore more of her music.

In today's fractured musical landscape Courtney is not a household name, but certainly not unknown. I'll hope that somewhere in this audience there is a newbie who will say, "Yeah, I like that." In terms of the rock or alternative genre she is a relatively contemporary artist. Now we're going to dig a little further back in the vault...

No! Not AC/DC. Not even INXS... no alphabet soup for you! While AC/DC was still riding high on Back in Black and INXS burst upon the stage in those early MTV years...

Kiwis

The Luddite Memorial analogue gang

Lo-fidelity guerrillas to their enemies

Their societal apex the seventies

Escaped to the ends of the earth

Where anything could happen

but we're assured that

Nothing's going to happen

Hand me down sofas

we sat on the floor

A young lad could afford a flat

and a Saturday case of ale

then play Sundays by rubbish heaps

and watch time go by

Both from 1981 folks. You probably didn't hear it here in the states. The Clean is on Flying Nun records (see link with the vid). Tall Dwarfs are also on Flying Nun, although one will not find this video on the label. This is an early self produced project from Mr.'s Knox and Bathgate and a very clever little bit it is. They are the Schroedinger's book ends of the New Zealand alternative scene. Anything can happen, but nothing's gonna. I can live with that. In fact... we'll all just have to, won't we?

Back in the waning years of the twentieth century the band Semisonic had a hit with their song Closing Time. The song was a wistful yet gentle treatment of those awkward hours of the single life. Tall Dwarfs brushed against this hour in Nothing's going to happen with their phrase, "heading in the general direction of anywhere but home". I'm here to tell you that Semisonic was wasting their time. Chris Knox told this tale fifteen years before in a poignant little ode, All of my hollowness to you

So sentimental. You really have to admire the honest man. Even when he's somewhat manic.

Maybe you heard an old favorite. Or maybe it's new to you. This is a bit experimental and perhaps better presented in some other fashion. We may explore some more themes in future. Provided that we do not hear from anyone something like, "Dude! That was complete rubbish! My eyes and ears are both bleeding now!", then I'd say we probably will. Even then we might still.

Thanks for visiting. We'll be back with some other... stuff... sometime. Off to do a bit of Avant Gardening of my own.

T

Hibernation

 

On southwest exposures the icicles weep
Crystal walls to form this winter keep
of snowy caverns for those who sleep

For days that Sol should grace the skies
Cast dancing prisms before their eyes
The light captured in these pillars gleam
and pass unnoticed by those who dream

Within their burrows the hearths still burn
Neither day nor night do they discern
as they await the fertile earth's return

Aching for the comfort of her womb
with fruits of her harvest they entomb
Evade the touch of that frigid breath
and there remain, even unto death

For nights within night the shadow will fall
When earth and sky, in darkness all
Hear the restless breath of snowy squall

Behind glacial windows the flames shine bright
like flickering eyes in the night
The crystal walls of this winter keep
hold their watch in darkness deep
for all of those who choose to sleep

Twenty-three and the twelfth man

 Once upon a time, in a town of twenty-three

There were folk living there, just like you or me

They came, it seems, to have their druthers

to mind their own lives, not those of others

They enjoyed a boon, though nothing elaborate

They were not a commune, but most things were collaborate

If one decided to opt out of a task

they would just do it, there was no need to ask

No one went hungry, they had very few cares

A quite satisfactory state of affairs

Then strangers came, assuming great powers

with their claim "Now this village is ours"

"We have staked boundaries, formed a glorious State

and like it or not you will participate "

Now these folk were trusting, they saw no need to flee

It would take some adjusting, but how bad could it be?

Well things carried on, mostly same as before

just some minor nuisance one could easily ignore

But some trouble was brewing, it would grow quite acute

when the strangers returned to collect their tribute

The townfolk protested, cried "this isn't fair!"

The head stranger replied "Ha! The State doesn't care!"

"Be thankful we let you live on this land

because every square acre is at our command!

Now bring us our taxes, this very minute!

Frankly you peasants have zero say in it!"

So the townfolk submitted and surrendered their treasure

which the taxmen examined in very precise measure

Thus was it ever for many years hence

They squeezed and squeezed, they milked every pence

The world grew around them as they toiled away

and the State grew apace, to the general dismay

When esteemed institutions produced learned men

they searched for solutions to rein the State in

For Kings and their follies are by fiat decreed

"Something more democratic is just what we need!"

So they conceived a Republic, in which all had a stake

and a written Constitution, for posterity's sake

They made rule of law, to which all were subjected

This ensured all that their rights were protected

Now this was certainly better, but the townfolk soon saw

that this was only as good as those left to write the law

Still they cast their ballots every four years

with every result eliciting tears

For someone's ox is ever gored

when majority's voice goes ignored

We pray that for once, Dear Lord in Heaven

give some result other than twelve to eleven

The first twelve decided that they could choose

when to pick your nose and which hand to use

Then the next twelve had no inhibitions

to issue further prohibitions

Back and forth, this endless game

but every time one thing the same

That twelfth man is the bastard who keeps this fraud afloat

And I swear that when they find him they're gonna slit his throat

The Gopher

 Conflating tumors out of cysts

Debating rumors with ready lists

Its all the truth, he still insists

Tired tropes in yellowed incisors

he burrows through the earth

No need of counsel or advisors

he's quite certain of his worth

Parchments declare he is ever right

and in that subterranean light

never dissected to see what they mean

or measured to any expectation

Answers only with empty recitation

somehow never quite what they seem

Some litany chanted, given by rote

as he shakes off the dirt from his coat

Smugly he retreats to his lair

to the comfort of his own fume

Hes sucking up all the air

of a stale and stifling room

He will never capitulate

'cause now hes a Yorkshire Puddin'

and I will firmly stipulate

Aye, hes for sure a Goodwin

Gadsden

 

I am authority, I'm in your face

I am the hero protecting this place

Sorry for asking (I'm really not dumb),

but what is it exactly you're protecting us from?

Be silent, peasant! Remember your place,

or I'll have to show you my chokehold embrace!

I'll speak as I wish, I don't need your permission

Your badge and your gun do not change that condition

You're just hacked off that your cover is blown

Your lies are discovered, your misdeeds have been shown

The truth is all out there, you should not deny,

but you do and you will because you're part of the lie

While this truth may be unpleasant, you're still going to hear it

If you were legit you'd have no need to fear it

So bring on your weapons, if thats what you must do,

but there are still more of us than there are of you  

Old Souls

There are old souls that live

in youthful frames

They speak in the present

and use fake names

Youthful blood courses through their veins

while aged thoughts fill their brains

In every age they find a home

They're all the rage

and still they live alone

They don't see the world 

as others do

Their secrets are squirreled

away from you

When they raise the flag

and shout hooray

They're the ones who drag

their boots away

Its the same old play

on a different stage

It goes this way

in every age

Old souls are born bruised and shattered

Their years pass by in bodies battered

Until the crusty outer shell

reflects the inner quiet hell

They wonder before they die

just where they'll go

But between you and I

I think they know

In the Heart of September

 The bees are buzzing to finish their tasks

Trees are fuzzing, prepare to drop their masks

When six weeks hence they'll show their bones

It'll be too cold for ice cream cones

But today it is warm and the sun is bright

And I will wait here until it is night

In the heart of September

Summer breathes it's last

We don't want to remember

That it leaves us fast

Late Summer bloomers all fade away

As Autumn brings on her full display

And this too will tumble to the ground

Spreading color all around

But today it is warm and the sun is bright

And I will wait here until it is night

When the heart of September

Is in the rear view mirror

We don't want to remember

That Winter is nearer

Celebrate these days

'cause the rains they'll come

Then you'll be wanting ways

To get back home

Where the air is warm and the sun is bright

And there's no more waiting for the night

The Bar

 Heroes come and promise things

Heroes fail and fall estranged

while the bar is ever lower set

and still the bar is never met

Preachers come and they will teach

of lofty goals that are out of reach

They pray eschew this earthly realm

and trust while others are at the helm

The answers will come to those who seek

and all reward shall come to the meek

A faith freely given embraces the hope

to be found within this passive cope

Hope and trust are fragile things

When they fail they may fall estranged

and the elusive bar that was never met

will still surely be lower set