You tore out my heart
laying on the ground
Finally I hear it's sound
Pa dum pa dum
I'm obsessed with this sound
Pa dum pa dum
Pa dum
Pa dum

You tore me apart
I'm listing to my heart
All I hear is this sound
Sounds of broken magic
Sounds of something tragic
Pa dum pa dum ssss

Obsessed with such beauty
Obsessed with the sweet romance
Obsessed with the brisk October
With the warm summer nights
Waiting in lines
Reaching the destination
Seeing the stars
Falling apart
Falling
Onto my own heart
Pa dum pa dum

You tore my heart out
Laying on the ground
I'm obsessed with it's sound
Pa dum pa dum

All I hear
All I swear
It's all I hear
It's all I care
About
Your sound
Mini m&Ms
Laying on the playground
Mini M&Ms
Don't usually have a sound
When you see them
I can hear them
Pa dum pa dum
We always shared them
Pa dum pa dum


We shared many things
Secrets, truths, heartbreak
Laughter love
Adventure
We shared many
Many of these
Can you believe
I could ever let it go
Let this sound go
Pa dum pa dum

I can finally hear it again
Thank you my beloved friend
You tore my heart out
The one I thought I lost
With you in the war
Or maybe from before
Now I feel the magic
Of every moment of course
I cherish how it hurts
...hurts
It hurts ....it hurts so
Pa dum pa dum pa DUMPADUMPADUMDDUMDUMDOOOMDOOMDOOM

I cherish it so
Thank you for this pain
I dance in the blood
Of the bleeding of vein
On the ground
I dance
On the ground
To the sound
Of my torn out heart
I relish every part
From finish to start
Repeating
Cycling
    through me
  Constantly
I dance
I...
Dance
As I paint my face red
With every shade
Every piece of led
You ever fed
Me
I can taste it
I can hear it
The sound
Of the trains
Pa dum pa dum

You tore my heart out
On the ground
I am obsessed with the sound
Pa dum pa dum
The sound of trains at night
The sound of laughing and feeling alright
The sound...of inner bliss
And naivety over this
I can hear the sound
Of my heart again
Having it ripped open
I am obsessed with the ****** romance
Of feeling pain
It's better then nothing
So they say
I wish there was another way
To hear
The sound of my heart
Then having it torn apart
Laying on the ground
Pa dum pa dum
Watching it bleed out
With every
Time
I
See
Your face
Every
Time
I
See
That place
Every
Pa dum
Pa dum
Time I see the stars
Pa dum pa dum
Every
Time
I
Remember
Your
Heart
Pa dum pa dum
Every
Time ...
Every
Time
I
...pa dum pa dum
Every
Time
I
Wish
We weren't apart
Pa dum pa dum
It loses more
Blood
The sound is slowly
Mud
Until I learn to erase
Your disgrace
Until I learn
To face
My obsession
With my lost
Possession
It'll die
And the sound will go

Until then
This is all I know
To hold onto
To feel

You tore out my heart
On the ground
I'm obsessed with the sound
...pa dum pa dum
Pa...ssssss

You've won again
My once beloved friend

*** *** ba dum dump da dum *** ba dum dum
                      /\                        /\                                /\
                  [snap]                 [snap]                         [snap]
*** *** ba dum dump da dum *** ba dum dum
                      /\                        /\                                /\
                  [snap]                 [snap]                         [snap]

Sitting at the window staring at sliding rain
I mentally slip on the proverbial banana peel

*** *** ba dum dump da dum *** ba dum dum
                      /\                        /\                                /\
                  [snap]                 [snap]                         [snap]

Floating deeper into consciousness’s backwater
I ponder the reflection of a mirror in the lake

*** *** ba dum dump da dum *** ba dum dum
                      /\                        /\                                /\
                  [snap]                 [snap]                         [snap]

Looking down at shoeless feet fraught with fear
I turn to run, only to find cell bars, box cars, sticky jars, and the planet  Mars

*** *** ba dum dump da dum *** ba dum dum
                      /\                        /\                                /\
                  [snap]                 [snap]                         [snap]

Momentarily, my movement meanders making me
a microcosm of mankind’s malady…another Monday morning

*** *** ba dum dump da dum *** ba dum dum
                      /\                        /\                                /\
                  [snap]                 [snap]                         [snap]
*** *** ba dum dump da dum *** ba dum dum
                      /\                        /\                                /\
                  [snap]                 [snap]                         [snap]

in this state ...
we follow the drum
dum-dum, dum-dum, dum-dum

it's a baseline from the numinous
rooted in the luminous
dum-dum, dum-dum, dum-dum

it's consciousness expanding
and selfishness unbounding
dum-dum, dum-dum, dum-dum

this thrombosis is cyclical
inspired spirals are psychical
dum-dum, dum-dum, dum-dum

Like the percussive beat of a drum
Ba-dum-dum
“Dumb as a post,” she says.
“Doesn’t know when to take her shoes off,” she says.
Because what are you doing, tracking dirt in my house
Under my roof
Unlike your friend who knew
When it was time to behave himself?
“You filthy slob.”
And I think, “What about Bob?”
A ******’ ****** who was just so gosh-****
Lovable.
And even if you haven’t seen that movie
You would know
That it’s the ones who can’t stand still
And who stick their hands in flames
And who grind their brains
For answers
Who make the world go round.
And round and round
She spun her snippy little tongue
Without even a break for air.
But who needs air when you’ve got sand
Filling up your lungs
In the arid desert.
They call it Death Valley for a reason.
I’ve never been
But I heard in the summer months
The temperature maintains a balmy 120 degrees.

I’ve been absorbing the heat ever since I could
Make heads and tails of her
Ba-dum-dum.
So here we are at round two.
She says it’s preferable to be sitting in one place
Because the jabbering jaw is where all the exercise comes from.
And the winner will be declared when there is no more *******
Coming out of the other person’s mouth.
Well that’s *******.
I’m not sitting around waiting for you
To throw blades at my head
And expect me to just take it.
I also can’t fake it.
I need to get out of here, don’t you understand?
Your hand has abandoned the idea of holding mine
Long ago, I know.
It serves a more physical purpose now:
To make me regret
Standing up for myself.

Ba-dum-dum
She’s still going at it!
Not hard to believe,
Since she’s gotten half a life time of practice with it.
Ba-dum-dum
It’s gotten progressively less steady.
No longer the even pulse that I was able to
Drown out earlier.
Ba-dum-dum
There she goes putting emphasis
On things that don’t matter.
I’ll be heading towards the door now…
Ba-dum-dum
Let me just –
Ba-dum-dum
Can you move please?
Ba-dum-dum
I’ll take that as a “no.”
I sigh. Not yet at the point of resignation somehow.
Ba-dum-dum
MAKE IT STOP!
Ba-dum-dum
Ba-dum-dum-dummm

Verse 1:

I wish I could say no strings attached,
But I’m a tangled mess.
Come into my playhouse, baby.
Ignore the webs.
Step into the minefield,
That was once my head.
I’m a darkened canvas,
But my visions red.
So, best tuck yourself in tightly,
Before going to bed.
You don’t want to tempt the monsters,
Who haven’t been fed.

Pre-chorus:
(Da-dum, da-dum, da-la-ta-dum)
(Da-dum, da-dum, da-la-ta-dum)

Chorus:
The traps been set, there’s no escape.
The illusions of love; the reality of hate.
Distorted beauty, masks intentions.
The powder of a bullet, triggers ignition.

Verse 2:
Now I’m gunning for you.
Twisted love is like pins and needles.
You’re the doll, I’m the voodoo.
I’m coming for you.
Dark afflictions baby, I crave for you.
Would savour the flesh,
Would savour each taste.
Till there’s nothing left,
Except for cake.

Pre-chorus:
(Da-dum, da-dum, da-la-ta-dum)
(Da-dum, da-dum, da-la-ta-dum)

Chorus:
The traps been set, there’s no escape.
The illusions of love; the reality of hate.
Distorted beauty, masks intentions.
The powder of a bullet, triggers ignition.

Bridge:
I’m a beast with no beauty.
No curse on me.
I’m a beast with no beauty.
Uncaged and hungry.

Pre-chorus:
(Da-dum, da-dum, da-la-ta-dum)
(Da-dum, da-dum, da-la-ta-dum)

Chorus:
The traps been set, there’s no escape.
The illusions of love; the reality of hate.
Distorted beauty, masks intentions.
The powder of a bullet, triggers ignition.

Ba-dum ba-dum
Will you look into my eyes?
Oh please wont you be mine.

Ba-dum ba-dum
Are you listening to my words
Trying so hard for you to understand my love.

Ba-dum ba-dum
Can you smell my lingering scent?
After a long night of love we've spent.

Ba-dum ba-dum
How do I taste?
When we connect our lips in haste.

Ba-dum ba-dum
Do you feel my beating heart?
Strung together by your every breath.

CHAPTER ONE

My geographic movements during the past year could be called “A Tale of Two Couches.” So as June draws to a close, I assume the position here again on Couch California. I am back in Hemet, the place the smug among us call Hemetucky--as if there was nothing a couple of Mint Juleps and a **** of Blue Grass wouldn’t cure. It is the year of our Lord, 2014: so far an interesting year for women. There was a woman who wore socks to bed. There was always my long-time, here today-gone tomorrow, long time companion, currently teaching somewhere remote on the Big Rez, a southwestern Navajo concentration camp near the 4 Corners.  Next, there’s my current object of affection, that fine and frisky lady from The Bronx by way of Bernalillo--currently at home in Laguna Beach, Orange County. Trixie: my main squeeze at the moment.

And now, completely out of the ******* blue this afternoon, my cell phone rings and it’s ******* Juanita--my all-time favorite woman, Juanita Mi Favorita de La Quinta--a Coachella Valley town and desert wadi, extending its lucrative winter tourist season to become a significant, year-round retirement venue and a robust service economy feeding off it.  Juanita arrived there in the late 80s, in middle of her early forties.  She was unemployed, homeless, just a suitcase to her name and a two-year old toddler in tow. Her parents were there, as was her Aunt Peggy.  Juanita was always Peggy’s favorite niece, her favorite child, actually, Peggy herself being childless, never married.  Aunt Peggy put her maternal instincts to work on Juanita Rodriguez, her Sister Rosalia’s second favorite twin daughter.

Maria, Rosalia’s first favorite daughter, Juanita’s twin sister—MARIA: lives in Newport Beach and acts as an extra in many commercial ads shot in southern California and elsewhere, an irony never without sting for Juanita. “Que lastima!” Poor Juanita: as her would-be Hollywood Movie star aspirations disintegrated over the years, along with her unrealized lower expectations to be TV star, and even those semi-glamorous modeling gigs at trade shows and fairs—the elephant’s graveyard of the acting profession—failed to materialize, and now her celebrity habitat shrunken even further, to that sporadic but consistent mockery of stardom, I refer to any would-be thespian’s ignominious one-celled visual protozoan: The Extra Call List.  And—*******-- what happens next? Juanita’s sister Maria starts getting these parts, starts getting hired by filling out a ******* postcard, starts getting paid to look good in the background. *******: no professional education or instruction, no agent, and no need to **** off both the producer, the producer’s cousin Morey, the director and the director’s wife’s huge Golden retriever, Genghis--actually a mighty handsome animal--or needing to spill $4K on that Derma-brasion, Juanita inflicted on herself last year.

Juanita, as you already know, was the second favorite daughter and the second favorite twin of the family. She became the third favorite child in her three-child family upon the arrival of her slick baby brother Nico-- the Golden Child, who grew up to be a glib Merrill-Lynch stockbroker, office and residence, Beverly Hills 90112.  (Enter forcefully into the narrative, His Nibs himself, Sir Nicodemus of Hollywood, Juanita and Maria’s baby brother Nico. He speaks: “Excuse me, stockbroker my ***, as it says in a 11 point Rockwell Boldfont, right here on my gold-leaf embossed business card: Senior Large Capital Investment Counselor.”)

No, Juanita had a hard time just treading water in that Cleveland shark tank. And though she lacked nothing in the cuteness department, she had this one fatal flaw, namely, the gift of ***** and sass and a reflex to speak truth to power. Juanita: rejected by Rosalia as a threat to her hegemony as Boss of the Girl’s Club, was cast adrift on a tempestuous childhood cruel Montserrat sea, out there on the briny deep . . .  
                

                                      



High Seas: where many a tuna has a Sorry Charlie moment: “Star-Kist don’t want no tuna with good taste; Star-Kist wants a tuna that tastes good.”

Finally, Juanita is rescued, taken aboard the Good/Soul Aunt Peggy—that wayward bark Elisabeta Rodriguez, home-ported in Southside, Chicago, Illinois—the rescue at sea performed in classy, rather low-key manner; no Andrea Doria drama, but understated:

{Camera One, Helicopter above, zooms over turbulent ocean surface. Peggy, an oasis of calm, aboard the raft Kon Tiki with Thor Heyerdahl and his crew, floats by, whispering, “Going my way, Honey? Climb aboard. Have a homemade oatmeal cookie and a small glass tumbler of Jack Daniels.” Okay, no, that’s not fair. Sure Aunt Peggy drank, but never got round to offering you a drink until you were well into your 30s. Let’s just say she offered you a warm glass of milk, the mother’s milk deprived you by your mother, her sister Rosalia. Dear Aunt Peggy: a seasoned survivor herself, flawed by early childhood deafness and grotesque speech.  Yet, she had refused to settle for life in an asylum. She made a go at life.  She learned; she prospered; she flourished. And when the time came, she was there for you in the Coachella Desert, there for her feisty niece Juanita Ann.  Aunt Peggy: a loving spirit personified, became Juanita’s special confidant and counselor, her personal cheer squad of one. Juanita, of course, a former cheerleader herself--an early hint of greatness to be sure, a highlight, perhaps the highlight of her life, shown off every Halloween, still celebrated at American high schools each Fall. She is the Principal’s secretary at a huge suburban high school in Indio. Each Halloween, if the date falls on a school day, Juanita arrives for work wearing that scrupulously preserved, vintage 1966 cheerleader uniform, looking real foxy still, snug now in all the right places. Eternal Truth: Juanita has always and will always be good looking. Life with Juanita is perpetual “ooh la-la.”

So, I am on the couch that afternoon, reading more of Gramsci’s prison notebooks, specifically the philosophy he calls “Praxis.”  Completely out of the ******* blue, Juanita calls me on a RESTRICTED phone, as I said, Juanita, a torch I’ve kept burning for years, flaring up like a refinery flame--oil still very much in the present energy mix--hope springing eternal as they say, and instantly my mission in life is rekindling our lost love. Juanita’s conceived her mission prior to her phone call:  using me to keep her son from being whacked by the local Eme--the Mexican Mafia—that ethnic-pride social club that the RICO-squad-- using family tree socio-grams and other expensively-printed graphics, the one RICO keeps trying to convince us is some sort of organized crime conspiracy. The Mexican Mafia: like everything else practical and utilitarian in this world: THAT’S ITALIAN! And, if you are starting to sense a bit of ethnic chauvinism on, between & below the lines, you are barking up the right tree.
                                                           ­     
      
                                                            
(AUTHOR’S POST-SCRIPT EDIT: And, an ad for dog food right here? Not the best choice of sponsors, perhaps, at the moment. Juanita was far off from the ****** ***** that start looking not half-bad at 2:30 in the glazy morning, not anywhere near those beasts you find lingering in the airport bars you usually frequent near closing time on Saturday nights. No, I remind you that Juanita was all “ooh la-la.” In my next printing—and my Lord, there have been so many, haven’t there, Paulie “Eat-a-Bag-of-****” Muldoon? I will change out the Alpo ad, plugging in a spot for Aunt Jemima pancake syrup or Betty Crocker whipped cream, you know, something more apropos.)

Juanita, I really must hand it to you. You showed the greatest staying power, year after year as I moved further and further away from La Quinta, California. Juanita: you embraced what was good in me, ignored my flaws and strengthened me with your love for so many years. As far as you and Peggy, I guess it was a case of the “apple not falling far from the tree” one of many endearing Midwestern metaphors you taught me.  Peggy taught you, taught you to be kind and then you taught me. No matter what bizarre venue I pulled out of my ***, you showed above-average staying power, continued to visit me wherever I went, Casa Grande & Buckeye, Arizona, Appalachia, West Virginia, and even Italy, when I thought I’d try Europe again after so many years.  With each move, each time, Juanita renewed her commitment to the relationship. Meanwhile, I continued to test her, quantifying her dedication, undermining her sense of mission to disprove my worldview on the expendability of women. Surely, you know that one: the unreliability of women, women who disappear without saying goodbye. That old deeply etched conviction to never get attached to a woman, any woman, based on the empirical fact that women have been known to suddenly die, a fact seared into my still tender metal by the surprise death of my mother on 11 January 1962.

1962. It was already an insecure world, to wit:  The Cuban Missile Crisis. Nikita Khrushchev, in his time both Dr. No and Dr. Evil, namely the Premier whom we Baby Boomers saw as Boogey Man of All Time (Although Putin is showing potential, lately)—the Kennedy ****** (what else could you call it?). All these events scary, whether or not I got the chronology right . . . I remained on high alert for any threat to my delicate adolescent psyche.  My mother-Rosa Teresa Sekaquaptewa-died at 2 o’clock in the morning, screaming in agony while apologizing to my father for not having his dinner on the table when he walked in from work that prior afternoon. She’d already been in bed since noon, attended by two of my aunts--both my father’s sisters--who loved their Hopi sister-in-law, Rosa.  Also present was Lafcadio Smirnoff, M.D.--last of the house call medicine men--a dapper, mustachioed, swarthy gentleman, misdiagnosing her abdominal pain as a 24-hour virus, while she bled out internally for at least eight more hours, her whimpers alternated with screams, well into the wee hours of the morning.

I was upstairs in that dormer bedroom listening to her die. An hour later, Father Numb-nuts of Our Lady of Lourdes Parish teleported in, beaming directly into my bedroom from the parish rectory.  Father Seamus Numb-nuts, an illuminated Burning Bush . . . not quite the bush I ‘d conjured at other times, so many times alone with Gwen Wong, ******* Playmate of the Year, 1961, one of Hefner’s hot centerfolds. No, give me a ******* break, you momo! Whacking off is the last thing on a libidinous, adolescent guinea’s brain when his mama is being tortured and killed by God. Even Alexander Portnoy, Philip Roth’s early avatar would have drawn the wanking line at that unforgettable moment.

No, perhaps what I’d had in mind was The Burning Bush Golf Course where so much of Fletcher Kneble’s political mischief and government shenanigans got cooked up. You remember his books, some of the Cold War’s finest: Seven Days in May, Vanished, etc.

Or better yet, perhaps the greatest political slogan of the 20th century: “STAY OUT THE BUSHES!” Thank you, Jesse. “Thank you, Reverend Jackson,” I slip into my Excellence in Broadcasting mode, my very own private Limbaugh. Announcing my on- air arrival is El Rushbo’s unmistakable, totally recognizable bass line bumper, courtesy of Chrissie Hynde’s Pretenders band mate, guitarist Tony Butler: Dum, dum, dum-dum, Da-dum, dum-dum-dum-dum-da-dum-dum. Single, “My City Was Gone” by The Pretenders
Rush Limbaugh Song– YouTube www.youtube.com/watch?v=SScW9r0y3c4

I become Reverend Jackson. I emerge from the vapors, an obscure abyss of deep family pangs and disappointments, ever-diminishing public relevance and fade to black (no pun intended) and media oblivion. The only thing left is that line:  “STAY OUT THE BUSHES!” You will always own that line, Jesse--true political genius (to wit: Rainbow Coalition) Jackson that you are, despite El Rush-Bo’s virulent anti-Black animus, his predilection to mock you, Al Sharpton, Corey Booker, Barack “Hussein” Obama, and any other professional ***** in America. Isn’t it time someone came right out and tagged Mr. Limbaugh as the Father Coughlin of our time.

Meanwhile back in The Bronx, enter another man of the cloth:  It’s Seamus Numb-nuts, making one of his many well-documented spectral visitations, his splendiferous miracles and wonders. How much longer will the Vatican ignore this humble Bronx priest, this epitome of Sainthood; this reverent man, lacking only the stigmata for a unanimous consent vote? Quote the Numb-nuts: “God Works in Mysterious Ways.” An old standard to be sure, but a lovely, all-purpose bromide for explaining why evil exists in our world. Needless to say, I was underwhelmed; I lost God at that moment, consequently shooting myself in the foot--metaphorically-speaking-condemning myself to an unshielded life, life OUT THE BUSHES!  I went forth into the world without God, without that handy divine crutch, that Andy Devine metaphor for when one’s legs grow weary: a puff of smoke, a reverb twang and a nasty frog croaking “Hi-ya, Kids. Hi-ya, Hi-ya. Hi-ya.”

   Andy's Gang - Pasta Fazooli vs. Froggy the Gremlin - YouTube
► 3:55► 3:55
www.youtube.com/watch?v=H35odPm7b3w Aug 8, 2012 - Uploaded by jmgilsinger
Froggy the Gremlin -Tuba ... Andy Devine (Aug 24, 1952)

Life for me became lonely and purposeless. And probably explains my susceptibility to military discipline and a subsequent career in clandestine government service. In 1968--the very day I turned nineteen, September 25th of that year—that fateful day when I should have shot myself in the foot—literally not metaphorically--earning that coveted 4-F physical rejection, a draft deferment to be desired, that 4-F classification of unfitness for duty, a necessary loophole in U.S. conscript service law.  The Draft: last used during that great commonwealth Cold War purge, that culling out of the unwashed, uneducated children of immigrants, that cut-rate, discount, lower socio-economic ***** bank—the only bank where after you make a deposit, you lose interest, to wit: most Black, Hispanic and Poor White Trash parents.  We were cannon fodder, many of us got to be planted at Arlington and other holy American shrines, still wrapped in black or olive drab leak-proof body bags, doing our generational bit to strengthen the gene pool left behind. A debt, some would say, we owed the country and, given the sorry state of the global wicket, increasingly an obligation to the species. And if I had to predict an outcome, Fascism in America will arrive riding the white horse of the environmental, anti-nuclear Bolsheviks. One could argue that Communism has moved so far left on the political spectrum that it’s now the far right.  Concoct a legislative policy goal, accomplish it legally as the bill becomes Law, signed by the President, endorsed and blessed by The U.S. Supreme Court, the highest court in the land.

To wit: “Three generations of imbeciles is enough?” declared Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jr., an Associate Supreme Court Justice at the time, buttressing a majority argument harnessing the power of U.S. law as a legal means of purifying the race.  When euthanasia failed to win over American hearts and mind, the Federal Government played the war card again and again. Vietnam: undeclared and therefore unconstitutional--except for that Gulf of Tonkin ******* resolution. Vietnam: a cost-plus eugenics project, if ever there was one, although responsive, of course, to the needs of the Military-Industrial Complex.  ******* Ike: he warned us against Fascism in America. As usual, we ignored the man in charge.

Eugenics? Why didn’t the government just put all the retards on the stand, as John Frankenheimer did in Judgment at Nuremberg, a crafty Maximilian Schell humiliating a feeble-minded Montgomery Clift?  Why not, make everyone face a public tribunal, forcing all of us to testify in court, exposing our many substandard and borderline substandard cerebral deficits?  Why not force everyone to demonstrate just how ******* dumb we are, using some clever intelligence test, something l

THE RETURN OF DUM MAARO DUM
( for Driftwood )

She dances
upon her tippy toes

upon my toes
whirling 'bout the room

to DUM MAARO DUM
she my little Bollywood queen.

"Again...again....again!" she squeals
mad with childish delight.

Asha sings to us
and we...dance!

Sunlight throws itself
at our feet.

We dance upon it.

Summer gasps
holds its breath.

There is nothing but
the music....and us!

She is all
of three

screaming: "Bollywood me...Bollywood me!"

"This...won't....get the dinner done!"
screams Mum above the fun.

The record screeches
and scratches ...ouch...off!

I cut cucumbers
into tiny tiny pieces.

Tilly washes spinach and lettuce.

But when Mum
goes to answer the phone

it's her best chum
she will be hours

we sneak Asha
back into the kitchen.

The return of. . .

"Dum maaro dum
Mit jaaye gham
Bolo subaha shaam
Hare Krishna hare Krishna hare Krishna Hare Ram!"

THE RETURN OF DUM MAARO DUM
( for Driftwood )


She dances
upon her tippy toes

upon my toes
whirling 'bout the room

to DUM MAARO DUM
she my little Bollywood queen.

"Again...again....again!" she squeals
mad with childish delight.

Asha sings to us
and we...dance!

Sunlight throws itself
at our feet.

We dance upon it.

Summer gasps
holds its breath.

There is nothing but
the music....and us!

She is all
of three

screaming: "Bollywood me...Bollywood me!"

"This...won't....get the dinner done!"
screams Mum above the fun.

The record screechs
and scratches ...ouch...off!

I cut cuecumbers
into tiny tiny pieces.

Tilly washes spinach and lettuce.

But when Mum
goes to answer the phone

it's her best chum
she will be hours

we sneak Asha
back into the kitchen.

The return of. . .

"Dum maaro dum
Mit jaaye gham
Bolo subaha shaam
Hare Krishna hare Krishna hare Krishna Hare Ram!"

Ba-dum

Odd. What could it be?

Ba-dum

A simple sound, yet a crazy feeling.

Ba-dum

A momentary change that leaves eternal impressions.

Ba-dum

Something so soft, it could shake the earth.

Ba-dum

Does that make sense? No, but that's it's worth.

Ba-dum Ba-dum

More? Ah, yes. The rapid drumming of a new discovery.

Ba-dum Ba-dum

A new something strong enough to be, a powerful message...is it for me?

Ba-dum Ba-dum

It beats for a soul that is beautiful and pure. A soul that's worth more than anything to her.

Ba-dum-***

The soul causes it to skip many beats. To feel and thrive, keeping it's captor confused, yet alive.

..........*


What's this? There is no sound? Has the heart leapt out with a mighty pound?

No. There is only one reason the two are apart.

It was the soul, which has melted and stolen her heart.

sing a song of nonsense
of absolute lack of sense
for people who are
so, so important and busy
they have no time to waste



he he ha ha
moo moo
moo moo
ma ma
ma ma
da di dum dum


the tree spreads out its arms
and birds come to rest
on the ground;
‘what do you think I am?’
sneers the tree
‘your daddy or mummy
to give you shelter
on hot days?’
and flicks the birds off
with its roots and branches


he he ha ha
moo moo
moo moo
ma ma
ma ma
da di dum dum



the fish come to the hooks
under water
and they flick it up over
with their immense tails;
and the hooks land on the fishermen’s
smooth bald heads
and the fish sing together:
‘Put those hooks up in your noses
and go home to your wives
and tell them
the fish gave you nose-rings
to celebrate this Glorious Day of Hooks’



he he ha ha
moo moo
moo moo
ma ma
ma ma
da di dum dum



under the oceans
Shark got married to Giant Octopus
and on their wedding night
Giant Octopus said:
‘Come baby,
come on in to my embrace’



he he ha ha
moo moo
moo moo
ma ma
ma ma
da di dum dum




and the earthworms
peeped out of the earth
and said:
‘My, how boring the world is up here…’
and the ostrich buried its head under ground
and said: ‘The darkness is vast;
It is infinite…’



he he ha ha
moo moo
moo moo
ma ma
ma ma
da di dum dum





sing a song of nonsense
of absolute lack of sense
for people who are
so, so important and busy
they have no time to waste

i rhymed till the rhyme ran raw
till the rhythm gave way
for the sonnet to sigh
what becomes of the beat of the drum
dum da da dum dum dum da da dum
what becomes of the tempo, the tune
to break the harmony we look to
to feel that giddy swoon
dum da da dum dum dum dum
the lilt, the tickle, the smack, the clap
theres no gettin round it
no play makes one hell of a dull Jack

The capitalist accumulation
Leaves the poor lost and homeless

The CEOs don't care
The intellectuals Romeless

Millionaires and billionaires
From Wall Street to L.A.

Listen to each other
But not what ordinary people say

A mighty Judgement is comin'
But I could be wrong

You see you hear these funny things
In Leonard Cohen's Tower of Song

1
*** dum da da ***
moom moom
swish glish
sa sa sa lum
hey, hey, hey
I’m coming there
where you are
with a he he he
and a hu hu hu
la, la **!**!**!
Who’s me?
I’m the superest-ever clown
I’m coming right now
*** dum da da ***
moom moom
swish glish
sa sa sa lum
hey, hey, hey
I’ll be there!

2
I’m coming with a lot of noise
I’ll come with laughs
and cheers
I’ll come unseen and with joy
hey! hey! hey!
you can start laughing now
O you can smile
come on now
la la la di di da da
sum sum sum
sim sim sim
I’ll be as good as dim sum!

3
*** dum da da ***
moom moom
swish glish
sa sa sa lum
hey, hey, hey
I’ll be like the moon
when I come
seen by the first humans
for the first time
and everyone looking in wonder and love
and laughing, laughing
for what else can one do
when there’s so much radiant lunacy?
ha, ha ha
he he he
*** dum da da ***
moom moom
swish glish
sa sa sa lum
hey, hey, hey



4
*** dum da da ***
moom moom
swish glish
sa sa sa lum
hey, hey, hey
I’ll flower there
right inside your hearts
like a smile, a laugh
a happy feeling you don’t even know is there
and then suddenly it’ll all blossom
in your skin and your face and in your limbs and organs
and you’ll all laugh too
and your neighbors too
and strangers too
for you are me and I you
and everyone too
hey, hey, hey
*** dum dad a ***
he he he he he he
Ha ha ha ha ** **
we’ll be laughing
we’ll be all laughing at one another
and we’ll be laughing at ourselves
for I ‘m coming
O I’m ever coming
superest-ever clown ever
like delicate music
like an exotic flower
and we’ll all laugh
like kookaburras
*** dum da da ***
moom moom
swish glish
sa sa sa lum
hey, hey, hey
for I’m the happy Universal Clown ever
just like you
just like me
hey hey hey
*** dum da da ***
moom moom
swish glish
sa sa sa lum
hey, hey, hey

THE RETURN OF DUM MAARO DUM
(for Driftwood aka
Shyam Sunder Sharma)

She dances
upon her tippy toes

upon my toes
whirling 'bout the room

to DUM MAARO DUM
she my little Bollywood queen.

"Again...again....again!" she squeals
mad with childish delight.

Asha sings to us
and we...dance!

Sunlight throws itself
at our feet.

We dance upon it.

Summer gasps
holds its breath.

There is nothing but
the music....and us!

She is all
of three

screaming: "Bollywood me...Bollywood me!"

"This...won't....get the dinner done!"
screams Mum above the fun.

The record screeches
and scratches ...ouch...off!

I cut cucumbers
into tiny tiny pieces.

Tilly washes spinach and lettuce.

But when Mum
goes to answer the phone

it's her best chum
she will be hours

we sneak Asha
back into the kitchen.

The return of. . .

"Dum maaro dum
Mit jaaye gham
Bolo subaha shaam.

Hare Krishna hare Krishna hare Krishna Hare Ram!"  

*



Such a superb composition by RD Burman. Asha Boshle's voice that perfect creature that it is and matched to Zeenat Aman. Back then we had no idea what it was about only that big father and little daughter couldn't help but compulsively dance anytime the song came on...it was such a joy and we never tired of it.

Breathless . . . Heaving . . . Sputtering . . .
Many more steps to go.
Hardened feet.
No longer are my steps maligned by stabs of blood.
Condemnation . . . Damnation . . . Corruption . . .
My seasoned back launches into my perennial burden.
And another step I take.
Into an inevitable future of drudgery.
Hope . . . Exoneration . . . Absolution . . .
Have long been forgotten.
Their burnt ashes adorn my forehead.
My shoulder screams ahead, into the weight it upholds.
Rumble  . . . Rumble . . . Rumble . . .
Each step like the millions before it,
thrusts the stone another foot towards the jagged peak
that towers impressively up ahead.
Dum Da De  . . . Dum Da Doo . . . Dum De Da Dum . . .
And the day goes on.
Dum Da De . . . Dum Da Doo . . . Dum De Da Dum . . .
And the night lives long.
Breathless . . . Heaving . . . Sputtering . . .
My war-torn muscles relax.
And the stone sits.
Stares at the valley below.
Lightning . . . Rain . . . Thunder . . .
The wind caresses and cajoles,
And the stone rolls down below, echoing Thor’s exclamations
And my heart leaps with joy.
After all, there will be another day.
And my feet have hardened anyway.
Ha Ha . . . Ha Ha . . . Ha Ha . . .

Dew drops shined on the grass
Morning dew glistened on the fresh green shoots

……
The delicate dew drops
hung
at the very tips of
long and reaching
blades of green grass
in the warm summer sun

the dampness of night left its traces
dancing upon the crab
as the dawn glow shown across the valley

nearly translucent water particles
sat
waiting for the rays to transmogrify
their very structure
and give rise to photosynthesis
under the starshine

………….

Dum dum dum dum doobie doobie do
Dum dum dum dum dum
Doobie doobie …

Two dew drops walked into a straw shack
Rolled into a grass hut
Sauntered into an old saloon…..

The morning dew sent me spinning……

I care too much

I care not enough.

No one has ever marched

To the beat of my drum.

Dum diggita dum

dum diggita dum

dum diggita

dum dum

dum.


A funeral march

Progressive boredom over the course of my years,

It's a choice.


Throw in a good drink and a good show,

Call me content.

Call me anything you like but a waste.

A waste of time, money, air and space.

Call me a waste. I’ll wake up.


I’ll awake a year ago in my dumb love’s bed, thinking

of the last of his and the first of mine. I’ll show you a waste.

A waste of lines, of lies, of love and of time.

A waste of virginity down the drain, a waste of heartache,

of razor blades,

and pain.


Don’t call me a waste.

Let me sleep in my bed alone

my new cotton scent drowning

away the wasteland of stress pooling beneath my eyes.

Their cigarettes smell the same.

Lenka - The Show**

I'm just a little bit caught in the middle
Life is a maze, and love is a riddle
I don't know where to go
Can't do it alone
I've tried, but I don't know why

Slow it down, make it stop
Or else my heart is going to pop
Cause it's too much, yeah it's a lot
To be something I'm not

I'm a fool out of love
Cause I just can't get enough

I'm just a little bit caught in the middle
Life is a maze, and love is a riddle
I don't know where to go
Can't do it alone
I've tried, but I don't know why

I'm just a little girl lost in the moment
I'm so scared but I don't show it
I can't figure it out
It's bringing me down
I know, I've got to let it go

And just enjoy the show

The sun is hot in the sky
Just like a giant spotlight
The people follow the signs
And synchronize in time

It's a joke, nobody knows
They got a ticket to the show
Yeah

I'm just a little bit caught in the middle
Life is a maze, and love is a riddle
I don't know where to go
Can't do it alone
I've tried, and I don't know why

I'm just a little girl lost in the moment
I'm so scared but I don't show it
I can't figure it out
It's bringing me down
I know, I've got to let it go

And just enjoy the show

Just enjoy the show
I'm just a little bit caught in the middle
Life is a maze, and love is a riddle
I don't know where to go
Can't do it alone
I've tried, but I don't know why

I'm just a little girl lost in the moment
I'm so scared but I don't show it
I can't figure it out
It's bringing me down
I know, I've got to let it go

And just enjoy the show

Dum De Dum, Duh Dum De Dum
Just enjoy the show
Duh Dum De Dum, Duh Dum De Dum
Just enjoy the show

I want my money back
I want my money back
I want my money back

Just enjoy the show

I want my money back
I want my money back
I want my money back

Just enjoy the show

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M-qbbCsAeM&index;=1&list;=RDM-qbbCsAeM

Praeludium in via ...

Vidi heri mane quando ridebam coloribus egregiis,
Eradere auro , trans tabula caeli , tentorium ...
Excelsus super omnes montes mundi mole fratres
Nimborum desertum , ubi non sit humana exsuscitatur .
Et non vidi nobili altitudo futura ...
Bonitas terribilis Vidi , *** indomitus.
Et peregrinare in ea carne existimarem Semel tamen divina ,
Nunc datum est scire , et non confundamur ab eo opus .
Ambulavitque *** Deo, quod nunc facio , et passus est ... accentus
Proditio amor et passionibus , quamvis non recipiat ecclesia ,
Divinitatis naturam , ne occulta omnia confitentur ?
Audis tu solus in universo ab duces ineptum
Ipsos victu pascuntur finguntur mendacii .
Sed ambulavit in vobis, ex ea ipsa mundi redivivi ,
Proelia ante hos annos multos, in carne nostra, amissis vate sacro .
Nos sequi vestigia veterum monumentis, ut ostensum est ;
Quia ex nihilo nati sumus , et adhuc in filiis tuis, ac spatium vivendi ,
Latebunt , quo melius in manifesto , vultus ingenio tegmina.
Ego sum primus , et consilium ... Memini tamen alta urantur
Humanis uti licet , *** aliena michi negotium.
Lorem quid ad ignorantiam et extra ,
Quia vidisti me in tenebris, in ardentem rogum meum .
Si sustinuero , praeire , ubi angeli labuntur ...
Quis autem, si non satis est dedicata piget.
Irrisorie , quoniam ego scio quod salventur , et saepe etiam ,
Post tantum est **** , et sic esset forma in re firmatam ?
Imago Dei , huc ad nos omnes in sanguine ipsius ,
A primis ad ultima, ut alpha et omega, gladius acutus .

Prologus : ( Os meum labitur )

Puer fui servus ad aras tam sacras ,
Hymnis immaculatorum : et absque iniquitate .
Quod *** ipse portabat diadema thons nudus ...
Expositum Spiritus meus, qui intellexi gravitatem.
Quis credit sanctum profanae habitu virtutum
Et illi qui in eo sunt ut carnifices ovis ad occisionem ,
Innocentes cogit induere larvis ad porcellana et operuerunt capita sua ,
Et filii eorum diriperent pueritia , vinctus catenis rudis .
Sicut teenager : ambulans in naturis hominum omnium adprobante ,
Et egressus est a me omnes, qui violatores extiterunt in coinquinatione verebatur .
Angelo fidem reperto cecidi inveni sanctitati
Nomen meum in ea , et curet abluitur dubium inveni .
Venit ad nuptias, et omnes dedi uxorem proditione ,
In solutione huius coniunctionis nostrae et sine intervallo in solitudinem imposuit ?
Traiectus mortalis caro mea reliquit me solum in sanguinem ,
Cor ejus scissum est , absque omni cultu ex ordine funem .
Angelus autem meus et leniat iras mansit dolori
Mea lux, in vigiliis, in nigrum, quod est victa ,
Admonens quia carnis mortalitate ... maxime
Angelus vult me et tremor et durum accepimus.
Et ego factus sum quam ... traumas vitae ac lacrimis
Et dimisit , in specie quae sunt post , veluti a me plagas .
Nox deinde calor intensior saunas percipimus ...
Sicut est mihi in choro , relictum est , nisi ab illo esse extensum ,
Et invicem tradent , et mortalem , ut impunita essent, sed numquam mihi ...
Non tradent ; effundam spiritum meum , et non totum .
FYLACTERIUM creare ex omni me , et oculus innocens ...
Quod amari posco sum ​​ut carbo margarita alba et nigra ;

Section I : Sacrificium Doll

Part I : ( litus sanguinem )

Ne revoces me pupa enim priscis recesserunt cavernam
Sunt inanima appetant , non realis forma in utero ;
A puero bibere rubeam ore exploratores in vastissimam taberna ...
Dum nati psallens FARRATUS agros effusi .
Vadimus ad domum Dei , in plagis , in magna pecunia debetis ...
Hoc non est ad oras Nunc cruore manant strigitu rubra de memoria , polluetur .
Nulla est enim me primus ad ignitionem gloriae ...
Quando autem mens aeterna , in omnibus placentes, causabatur laetitiam .
In stellis ibi verba quae ego volo inauditum revocare,
Quia descendi ita pridem apud venire primum ?
Sollicitus purus fabrica MYSTICUS chaos genitus antiquorum
Mitti expectant limine signa magica.
Interdictum revertatur in carminibus meis , Licinius, ut audacia ,
Quia oblitus est mei fere est: nunc originem , ut tragici.
*** filii bibere, et se abscondunt nati seorsum
*** aquæ in sanguinem, et super triticum, et arefecit fœnum, et humida !
Signum quod venturum est mutare et laboro mentem.
Facies in luna ALLUCINOR in metu torquetur , horror ...
Dumque in fauces manu stare super pectus
Inter ordines diu frumentum umbra nigro ambula
Genus servo meo animas infantium .
Aestas flavescunt, Phoebe caelesti audent .
Mea sola mcestas lupus sonitum audiri potest ,
Et *** feris leo in pontumque moueri relinquere ...
A natura mihi dolet cupio concupivit paradisus reducat .
Vidi terram terror , ut sanguis in sinu
Ater sanguis in terra , quae facit viventia ululare ...
Sicut **** habet stultitia non dicam prava vel !

Part II : ( Crucifixo et Inferorum Animas Excitat)

Nam inertis est gemere pupa altari parato, in sacrificium,
In lapidem calcarium, et in cavernam, ubi sunt wettest fingit arcus !
Un - res sunt, sed etiam *** vivit in vulneribus animae , ut in glaciem ,
In horrore frigoris fictilem , ita *** pedibus non vocavit.
Serpentipedi mucrone subrecto , remittit praecise a pupa in collo ,
Et non potest dici , quia non habet pupa voce clamare.
Puer, et egressus est a tabernam , aspectus eorum quasi a naufragii vile ...
Ut curem hominem a superioribus agentibus , corpus totum mundum.
Infra in concavis locorum asperitate visa petram
Magna voces resonare in tenebras , et vocavit nomen tacuit.
Eripuit animam trahit nauta Multo gregis
Ubi aereum reddet unicuique antiquum signum desideratum .
Et venit ad bibendum aquas illas vitae malis mederi ...
Porcellana , et liberatus a vinculis mortis obscuris sentiat frigore ;
Animas in captivitate , unde nemo mortalium loqui
Sed statim liberavit remotis perforabit clavi ...
Omnis **** , qui dicitur Golgotha ​​, olim in cruce positus .
Omnis autem mulier quoque, ad quod omnes tales sunt tormento
Et facta est , dum consummaretur sacrificium insita primum sic infirma est,
Et intantum ut nisl tot annis perpessi .
Signati post fata diu Quod murus ignis in Terra ,
Stigmatibus ferre posset ita etiam multa futura!
Quod signum erat in manu mea, ut labatur pes meus, et dimittam ...
Tamen adhuc vetera perseverare illusionibus , et non possum excitare multos .
Ego, qui iam tantum conligati Lorem ferrum quid reale,
Factaque est infinita in dolo : Ego sum ​​, et desiderio erat pax.
Nam et ego quod negas , nisi aspera ac rudia mei liberatione ;
Angelus liberavit me , et nunc inter saevus sigillum frangere conantur .

Part III : ( The Return of lux)

Qui a mortuis Surrexit , frigidior , ubi de somno , ultrices in somnis , per
Et obliti sunt intelligentiae invocatum est super sancta miserunt innoxia verba ...
Et inde apud hominem , ut maneat MYSTICUS sequuntur revertamur ,
Ea aetate in inferno commemoratione praeteritorum.
Qui suscitavit eis manum meam , et pugionem eius lumen gloriae,
Relicta meae effercio fluere sanguis subito currere libero.
Ex profundo flamma surgit millennial amisso puella puer ,
Quæ est angeli redivivam sinit luce clarius ostendit .
Et omnis qui non occaecat oculos ad intima ;
Infideles , in momento temporis ponere in obprobrium .
*** stellae ab Diua sacrorum opera voluntatis
Dum coccineum limen transeat , lucem adfert .
Momento enim omnes in caelo et in terris sunt ,
Sicut dies longus tandem inclinatus ante noctem veniat .
In tenebris , claritas multo maiorem et perfectiorem descendit ,
Eorum, qui dum in nomine meo orbata est devium.
Sicut incensum in conspectu angelorum ira animos eorum , occlusum ...
Ferrum IRRETUS texturae talis effugere nequeunt carcerem
Nam quicquid occaecat vidit lucem et scindit
Nisi quia in templis revellens mortalibus irae.
Et , postquam ipsæ fuerint fornicatæ infidelium , ut uoles, petulans ,
Et factum est in excogitando dogma , quod de ratione immemor ?
Horrendum non fides sit , tamen ita fecisse ,
Ante finem exspectent praemia petunt .
*** enim , ut est in paradisum suscipit dereliquerunt ...
Imago autem libertatis quam servitutis et negotio.
Nimia tempus extractam converterat a gladio:
****, ut spectet ad salutem in lucem , caeca lumina sua .

Antiphon alpha :
Quia hoc est ut , barbaris quoque innocentiae gentilitium mendacium vendere ...
Numquid et vos vultis emere , aut aliquam nunc forsitan putas,
Ad sciendum neque rationi consentaneum neque aetate sapientes ...
Quod si non moverent malles *** saltare!
Pleni sunt somnia noctes ; Dies mei tantum ...
Ego ad bis et quem maxime diligebam , in purpura quoque , et aprico occasus .
Ego autem haec imago non ad tangere memoriam tot ,
Qui replet in sanguinem furoris me , et frigidam desiderio finis .
Et considerandum est quod *** in ultima desperatione rerum , in cuius manu mea, equo et pilos in ore gladii ,
Nam ni ita esset, nunquam tamen inde trans familia .
Sed abusus est , ut fuit, et quidem instar caedentes sepem
An ut reliquos omnes transcendunt omnia , amice!
Ego superfui , transfiguravi ascendi in fine est ,
Multo magis quam erat, non plus quam diruere animus .
Sed tamen , quia speravi in solitudinem , ut a somno exsuscitem ancillam meam in flamma ...
Ardet , o superi, ut arbitror , usque uror dissiliunt!
De caelo et magis obscurant vestris, et tridentes, et contritio ,
Audio furorem tympana caelo antiqui gigantes hiemes.
Dii irascantur et ecce valide erutas ,
Uvasque calcantes Angeli hominis Illi autem vinariis ageretur ...
Recordatus sum in omnibus navigantibus battleship galaxies ,
In die ortus nubes inter exaestuans, quod ' vaporem ...
Depopulari Sodomam et Gomorrham, ad contumelias !
Ibi eram: et *** impiis non perire denique gemitu.
Ut illuderet mihi : et populus , quia ego bonus sum male velle ,
A Deo est, quam diu tot mala ferre cogetur .
Ego autem non sum solus , quia multa in eo et detorqueri
Deus remittit, nam adhuc sed non est intellectus ;

Section II : Hostiam de Spider

Part I : ( Rident Primus )

Caelum non egerunt pœnitentiam super ulcus nigrum est furore , et in indignatione, et in iustitia :
Et factus sum caro , quamvis intellectus non mortale .
In antro loca , quæ transivi , et dæmonia multa discurrunt ,
Et locis minus adhuc amor in search of a provocare .
In quo autem in craticiis tectoria atria mea, et thronus fuit stabilis ...
Et super collem , ubi dolorum laborum animae perit labor in mundanis ,
Transcendi vincula et consilio fidelium expectabo laudatur.
Ignis et sulphur et, semper est dextera arderent super altare ?
Ridentem cogo faciem meam : non enim veni , ut velle,
Ut in hora *** iam iuvenem, *** proposito aureum ...
Quæ pro impenso super solidum, pretium quis ,
Qui autem non cognovit , quomodo cupiam sibi solvere ...
Furor solitudinis nascitur ira nascitur ex malitia,
Qui autem contemnunt me , quia sine causa Provocantes me .
Quid est **** , impunitatem , ne quis putaret se excusat ;
Quam sapere , *** culturis tuum: mergi , in balneis , in ardentem .
Loquor de inferno, qui est infidelis nescis ?
Neque enim suis oculis effossis clavorum ...
Loquor cruciatus qui daemonia fecerunt superat .
Primus erit mihi dolor meus *** omnis fera voluntas ut ratio ...
Ut qui me conspui caro quod ambulans ,
Nescis modo larva facies mea , abscondens se.
Attendit ad illa nihil nisi insipientis solis erratur in sonis cantus
Tantum numerus ratus e fratre soror .
Sed in caelestibus quae sine causa nata est incestus est alchemical ?
Habitat in me peccatum occultum compages sǽculo.
Sit mihi vim inter gentes auditus est ABSURDUS musica ...
Spiritus meus qui regit omne simile est genitus.

Part II ( vindicta aurum )

In hortos, in quibus cupiditas sanguis rosaria semina ,
I , in manu eorum , qui esurit Quorum sitit aquam surgit !
In quaerere dilectionis affectum bestiis pavi eget
Quid faciam ut pudeat , habet me non elit .
O **** , quo impune ausu palamque vociferari ,
Quod amor sit ex me credis , et me opus manuum tuarum ,
Ut timidus , et cucurrit ad me latere turba depravari ,
In simulata excellentiam tuam , et ipse te vile animal .
Coniunctio oris linguae quasi telam laqueari
Si fieri potest araneae ; et fugiet a turpis ut octo pedes nidum ...
Et *** jam non calidus humanitatis indignum ,
Cogitans te meliorem quam reliqui descendes !
Ut vitae pretium millies , tibimetipsi .
Creaturam factus sum nocte expectant te aranea heu !
Nolite putare quia ego audirem . utrumque stridens cruris ...
Odium ductor tuus , et equi ejus , et ascensorem ejus .
Et in vestra web Video vos, Quirites immune ungues acuti ,
Ad toxicus venenum , quod oculis non potes, nisi te , octo ...
Ex quo bases Caesios sine timore, et sic primum
Ut dolores tuos comedat vos accendentes ignem caelum ;
Detur paenitentiae venia , quae dicis omnia cogit , ne superare dolores ,
Qui tibi semper, quæ videtur , non est potentia ad non noceat .
Et ascendit ulterius sapere plus pavoris tui ...
Numquam puerile ludibrium ulla facta .
Omnis domus tua dissolutae horologiorum ad socium non est ?
In desertis chaos est gaudium, ut si quod habuerunt.
Surgit in novum ordinem , nemo potest negare chaos genitus locus ,
Dum descendes perdunt, muneribus laesae.

PARS III ( Ultimo Rident)

Et sic videtur quod Angelus se et ante deam
Angelus autem nominis vocare aliquis tenuerit formarum.
Et qui in illis est , maiora sunt, ego saepe ad extraneas ,
Fingunt enim se perfectum , ignorant eorum saevitum ,
Num amor crustacea tam veteri quam in praedam , et mendicum ,
Quod minus quam tuum est , quam sumpsi eaque cibum ...
Est autem tarn coquina sicut clibanus tua vadit et ora
Ipse, ipse est extra te praemium virtutis tuae chores ,
Sicut enim res suo cuidam negotium , qui meretricem ... Lorem ipsum leve,
Putas praemium amaret , et mendicum , falli te .
Quid autem vocatis me alienum **** ... amor est malum , et hoc pudet,
Et similiter anima atque animus , quibus tandem corpus infirmare.
Vides tantum larva ... sub aspectu nisurum
Larva ut me in tenebris tenebris latet .
Circa collum tuum habebis , ut falsae aestimationis pendet a mortuis, et corona ,
Quia sterilis tibi relinquo mundum , Intenta ancillæ.
Consurgitur in excitate de reliquis abire tibi , qui sunt cognati mei
De manibus eorum procul offendant pedes vestri ?
Qui manet in coemeterio quasi mortui
Non tollere incorruptione Nimis tibi dubium .
Hue tacito lachrymis virgines flere ...
Ad mea, et robur , in quo praeda, gregibus rursum super vias hominum ,
Ad eos qui non ineptis metus mutetur ,
Aureus transmutare non magis quam plumbea nocte dies ;
Quod verum est de fine , qui scit ... Alchemist
Magistra rerum artes a me in profundum.
Ágite , quod sum aggressus creatura placet mutare ...
Ut res sunt nostrae demiurgorum lasciva oscula enim calidius ?

Omega Antiphon :
Non est autem in Utopia , non videtur quod ...
Donec ut nosmet ipsos cognoscimus prima quaerimus imaginem .
*** et in sacrificio sui ipsius , a volunt reddi obsequium ...
Qui ad reformandam et divina se , *** Leo renata agnus mitis !
Sicut in Christo, ex parte in qua invocatum est cicatrix, et vulneratus est ...
Sed simplex conversio ad dissimilis vultus nolui .
Memini dolore meo, ut acer et vehemens ...
Donee tantum possum emissus dolor servare sensu caret.
Quomodo potest aedificare paradisum non est, nisi in se mutant ;
Mutare ante mutatum esse non est in medio ; quae est in via .
Qua ad paradisum , et oportet eam, et non deficiunt,
Ne ad caelum, nisi quam nos aedificare illud infernum iniustitiis nos .
Utopia , non ruunt ad genus humanum, nisi a te, tu es qui habitavit ?
Nisi quod est extra omne malum quod in se corrumpunt ,
Manifestum enim est , nisi malum, quod mundatam ab omnibus malis moribus.
Tunc malitia faciatis abstulit senex super pluteo tom .
An non intellegat , quid est salvator ...
*** diceret quod non omne quod simplices filii ingredi
Regnum caelorum , et inde ad delectationem pertinere ...
Et quomodo potes perfrui , si tibi placet , cauillando crudelis ?
*** aurora tempore domini nituntur hominum planeta ...
Numquam imaginandi praecipiet ut discat primum voluntatis.
Non armorum vi , nec inutile mandatum ...
Sed *** modestia , et misericordia ; ergo qui ad cor suum in satietatem,
Gáudii innumerabiles et celebrationibus quae causa ?
Sed animus intendatur dolores peccatum lacus.
Ubi plausus rotundum vt quilibet sensus ?
Modernitatem iocabitur ullum definitum ornare.

Section III : sacrificium sui

Part I : ( hortos perditio )

A ziggurat sublatus est , arenosa in calidum lateres , quos coquetis in igne ...
Septem fabulae in caelum, sicut turris Babel ,
Quod in solitudinem, et in

LA LA LA LA LA LALA
DI DUM DI DUM DI DUM,
DU DIDY DUM DUM DUM DUM
DO DO DO DA DO DOO.

*** dada dum dada
*** *** ***
Melodies cradle my soul just for fun
*** didi dum didi
Dum Dum Dum
Soliloquies burst off the tip of my tongue;
Lyrics illogical and beautiful, some.
Brilliant by accident, sudden, and young.
Tra lala di lala
Do do do
Convinced of the magical things words can do;
These lovely inscriptions, all assumed to be true,
Are not carefully built, nor genuinely glued.
Fa dala di dala
La la la
So from sockets comes streaming oblivious awe;
Silly and shameless, and secretly flawed,
For unknown was my motive until these stanzas were thawed
La, lala, la, lala, la la la
By the warmth of good fortune, and mind’s last hurrah.

Jammed
like the last clean place in the dishwasher
like the ugly foot on your war-paint totem pole
like the mollusc meets mantelpiece decoration stuck on your windowsill
Snow drifts
as fine as the combed hair on your head
sweeter than sugar
more damning than dandruff
as hard as the head of a coconut which you
hit, again and again, with the **** end of a hammer
Bang. Bang. Bang.

The sound jars
on the off beat
sounds like mars
meets
penguin feet
but you dance
caught
in the headlights
in the sway
you're your own one man James Bond villain
and you love to watch the spotlight flicker to dusk
and the end credits to roll
with that tune,
stuck
jammed
twisted like the rusty end of a bagel knife
into the rusty end of your brain case

Ba dum dum, ba dum dum
feel it
in your feet

ba dum dum, ba dum dum
we'll never know
when we might again
meet.