Shadows in the rocks

 

I love music but can’t sing or play a note, but as I’ve said sometimes a rhythm or melody worms it’s way inside my head asking for some lyrics, so from time to time I attempt to write some lyrics, for better or worse…

 

Scratch armed bandit
Collecting junk at night
Trying to find a balance
Get himself feelin’ right
Running with his best friend
Baby girl in flight
Shooting powdered milk
In the darkness of the light

Shadow children
Shadow chill-ill-dren
If they live into their forties they’ll be residing in a box
Hand in hand while tripping over the shadows of the rocks
Remembering the good times
Making money pulling cocks
Never see the brightness when you’re a shadow in the rocks

 

 

 

Beat up little urchin
Sneaking out the back
Satisfied Uncle Aaron
Still moaning in her sack
Never got invited
Still he has a knack
Of using teenage sweeties
Afraid to tell the facts
Meets her superhero
Captain America on crack
Both sinking down the drain
Victims of the smack
They don’t need food or money
Its life the really lack

 

 

 

Shadow children
Shadow chill ill dren
If they live into their forties they’ll be residing in a box
Hand in hand while tripping over the shadows of the rocks
Remembering the good times
Making money pulling cocks
Never see the brightness when you’re a shadow in the rocks

 

 

 

Sick of being tired and tired of being sick
Worshiping a dime bag turn another trick
If they make to their 40’s they’ll be living in a box
Begging for a morsel as shadows of the rocks
From the bottom of the rocks
The wretched lonely rocks
Shadows of the alley smashing the bottom of the docks
Runaways forever shadows of the rocks

 

 

Everybody hates him
Wants to see him harmed
He needs to take his handgun
Just to stick it in his arm
Little girl abandoned searching for a friend
No one see’s a child no one raises an alarm
She’s just a geisha of the poppy
Hiding from the storm
Hopes to be a grandma
But her life won’t last that long

Shadow children
Shadow chill ill dren
If they live into their forties they’ll be residing in a box
Hand in hand while tripping over the shadows of the rocks
Remembering the good times
Making money pulling cocks
Never see the brightness when you’re a shadow of the rocks

 

Sick of being tired and tired of being sick
Worshiping a dime bag turn another trick
If they make to their 40’s they’ll be living in a box
Begging for a morsel as shadows of the rocks
From the bottom of the rocks
The wretched lonely rocks
Shadows of the alley smashing the bottom of the docks
Runaways forever shadows of the rocks

 

 

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Madmen Have No Remorse

 

From high in the treetop
The vulture viewed the lambs
Innocent thought the predator
Who but me is truly innocent
I hold all the power in my arms
I need release
The wondrous smell of gunpowder
The echoing pops of rapid fire
The scattering of the sheep
Some fall some ramble chaotic
But all are stricken with panic
It is I who holds the power
They bleat and whine below me
Only I can stop the killing
I wish this could last forever
But someone is at the door
It is time for me to worship
Holding the holy death stick
I point it to my head and pull
My power to you I commend
I join you my lord
Take me in your forgiving arms

Waiter, There’s A Fly In My Administration, (a flies eye view of Watergate)

 

Prelude
I swear sometimes its like they don’t even know I exist. Well that’s fine with me because my Dad always told me its better to keep your mandibles shut and be considered a fool than to make some buzzing noise and remove all doubt. Besides, with those new fangled fly swatters and bug zappers my species has been taking a huge hit in the census reports. I prefer to just sit on the wall and quietly listen to these humans ramble on about all their petty nonsense. Interesting surroundings here I must say, much too clean for this flies taste with not even a crumb or juice spill for me nibble on, but I am in The White House and this is The Oval Office so its only a matter of time until I come across a big pile of bullshit.

My Confession, I Was The Fly On Nixon’s Wall

 

The short lifespan of a fly doesn’t have much in the way of excitement so when I woke up in the oval office of The White House I knew I had a good story to tell my grand-flies next week. You know it must have been quite a ride landing me here in DC with Richard Milhous and his cronies but truth be told I don’t remember much of it. Oh yea I get it, you se me rubbing my hands together in a devious manner and think I have been making plans to take over the world but no, I am just cleaning the ah…. Puke of my arms. Anyway, more on that later. First a little background about the life and times of a short lived pesky fly who ended up on the wall of Richard Nixon’s oval office..
All in all a fly life is boring. Oh sure if we find some dead body and its like an all you can eat buffet for the entire family but that’s just a night out to binge and purge. There’s not a whole lot of exciting occurrences for a fly. Avoid that sticky gooey tape thing, play dive bomb at people heads while they try and swat us, and wait around to find some tasty shit. Literally shit. We live short simple lives and have very few needs. Air traffic patterns to confuse predators, anti-web maneuvers which, by the way seldom work, friggen spider bitches, and some good rotting flesh or defecation. Basically we eat, puke, and eat again. Not your fabulous eat pray and love idiom but what the fuck, we’re only flies.
Oh yea, about that fly paper. That’s my pet peeve man its a real bitch because you use fly pheromones so we think we’re gonna fly united and get laid when all of a sudden glop! Bastard humans make those sticky tapes smell just like lady fly fluids and I’ve witnessed many a friend die thinking he was gonna do some mid-air muff diving only to find himself trapped dangling in a gluey mess with a dozen other would be amorous fly boys. But I don’t want to bore you with the details of the danger of life as a fly I came here to share the interesting conversations I was privy to while I was hanging out in the oval office here in the Whitehouse during the days of what you humans call the Watergate scandal. From my vantage point on the wall I was able to hear quite a tale with a cast of characters that, well lets just say for them to call our larvae maggots is extremely hypocritical. They think their fecal matter isn’t odiferous but any fly worth its proboscis can smell a politician miles from the beltway. But how did I get here? Listen up man, I’ll walk you through it.
The last thing I remember from last night was falling asleep all snug in the hidden hair region of a women that I picked up bar. I had just flown in from Boston and man were my wings tired. It was pouring rain so I found this cozy little bar in Washington DC looking for a safe place to rest when I saw Destiny. Destiny was her name and my destiny was to find a comfy place to sleep in her warm pubic bed which is exactly what I did.
Destiny was at the bar drinking and when some dude started hitting on her it woke me up. “What’s a beautiful woman like you doing alone in a bar like this?” Phhhhtt. Real original! I started dozing back off because I had a feeling this clown wasn’t getting anywhere with that weak ass rap so I cuddled up near my curly hair snuggle mattress. Not much to worry about with an opening line like that.
But apparently the dude was persistent. He told my cooch ride his name was George and he claimed he was some powerful man in DC. Oh yea, and a Scorpio. Small talk? That was microscopic talk man, this dude was going nowhere. I fell asleep when he started asking Destiny what her sign was assuming Georgie boy wasn’t getting any sugar on this night. I got the feeling the asshole was married anyway and Destiny would no doubt pick up on that too so I felt safe and sound curled up in her warm curlies. But great God Brundle-fly was I ever wrong.
I woke up and found myself not in a soft perfumed curly muff mattress but in a dark coarse long brittle hair bed that smelled of cheap scotch and stale cigarettes. I found myself sleeping in the thick ugly mustache of none other than G. Gordon Liddy. How the blowfly did I get here? Seems somehow Georgie Porgie got lucky at some point last night and I was given a transfer to the thick Liddy Lip Central which gave me a bristly ride here right to the oval office of The Nixon White House.
Believe me folks, G. Gordon was a real son of a bitch even by fly standards. Let me just say that I had no trouble throwing up on his smelly-ass lip rug to dissolve some of Destiny’s leftover love juice for my breakfast. He made puking easy. Apparently he was some kind of bigwig in the FBI and has been screwing people over for a living for quite some time. He was a personal friend of the other asshole in the office, Richard Nixon. Think I’m bullshitting? Well I shit you not my friends because Tricky Dicky here taped the whole thing which will validate my tale so listen to my story as they play the taped conversation and you’ll see what I mean.
“George, did you read what those Godless bastards at the Times wrote about me last night?” Even a fly can detect paranoia, and man did Nixon have a real bad case. George started rubbing his lip (yup, the infamous rug transferring lip) which is what caused me to relocate to the west wall. “Dick, I’m telling you, some sonava bitch is leaking stories to those damn reporters and they want to print whatever they can to discredit me.. And The Whitehouse. What you need is an experienced, ah, um, plumber, a sneaky plumber to find the leaks and eliminate them.” Nixon was clearly angry and interested, “Your right George, those pricks are out to destroy me, to take me down. Every chance they get The post, The Times, those pricks Severid and Reasoner, they’re all trying to screw Richard Nixon. Let me tell you George Richard Nixon will not be taken down by some leftist liberal atheist commie shithead. So man, what’d you have in mind?” George shuffled a little as Richard stared out the window. “Look, I have a source who tells me the Pentagon Papers were released by someone working for General McNamara. I have a name. The sonova bitch copied classified files and now wants to leak them for his own agenda. There’s something I want to try. This asshole goes to a psychiatrist and I’m going to liberate the files of this ratfink bastard from the shrinks office for proof. Then we’ll nail his communist ass to the fucking wall! No one will believe a word he says. Listen, I know a few guys from the organization I can still trust, and with me as their chief I’ll find him and any other scumbag commie leaker and get rid of them all. You’ll never be implicated in anything, It’ll be my operation and I’ll run it. Of course I’ll keep you informed but this will give you plausible deniability.” Nixon smiled, “Plausible deniability? I love it George, okay lets go with that. You head up my group, the Whitehouse plumbers.” George was one of those control freaks who need to assert his dominance and replied, “Operation Odessa Mr. President, in here we can be called the plumbers but officially we’re Odessa, part of the Committee To Reelect the best President our fair country has ever had. I’m gonna get my guys together and I’ll report to you in two days. I already have my lead and he’ll be the first sonava bitch to go.” Nixon shook Georges hand and said, “No names George, not yet. These prick liberals are trying to ruin me, ya know? They want to bring down America, become commies and make it normal for our kids to be homos. I don’t think they even believe in God. You bring me some results and I’ll make sure you get rewarded.” George shook Dicks hand, “My reward will be serving you Mr. President, just leave things to me. I have the way to deal with the unpatriotic hippies. I’ll get rid of all your problems Dick.” George left and Dick opened a drawer of his desk picked up a microphone and softly spoke, “G. Gordon Liddy and President Richard Milhous Nixon, June 18th 1971.” and closed the drawer. Hmmm, odd these humans, they seem to secretly tape record conversations. I wonder why?
To Be Continued………..

Night Tremors

 

I awoke in the eerie dark
Or maybe I was still asleep
It was far too dark to tell
Too quiet to understand
Arcane and unsettling
Something or someone
Was in my room with me
WHAT WAS THAT?
Has fear taken ownership
Am I paranoid or in a dream
Sweating from the paralyzing fear
Droplets begin to roll off my forehead
So fucking scared
FEAR
Am I gonna die!!
Oh……my……god

 

Kick it
This fear has fermented I’m mentally tormented cause the visions I’ve invented
Are relentlessly depressing
A life form unscented from someone’s Hell has ascended it may not be documented but
…..I think that I’m demented….
I’m so tempted to pray to please be represented
But my God is discontented with the sins which I’ve presented
My life is at stake
My soul to take while I’m awake for goodness sake
We all make a mistake
Go away
Let me wake
Slow it down now

 

Perhaps I was dreaming
Dark theater of the brain
Strange noises in my sanctuary
Am I alone or is someone here
My cranium keeps shaking
Tears pool down my cheeks
My reflection in the droplets
I see some movement
A tree branch? No a shadow!
Paralyzed in my bed
Make this end
Please let this be a dream but if it is a dream
What does that mean?
Are dreams simple stories our minds make up
Or are they the realties of what could be?
Why do our dreams never seem to have a beginning
Why do they never have an end….or a taste of the reality
How can they be so vivid and true yet so surreal
I don’t think I like dreams
I don’t want to have them anymore
Please get me out of here or wake me up
I want to be me….to be free
Kick it once more

 

They are a malady of the banality someone’s misplaced morality
Worming its way into my concept of reality
Oh the fucking brutality the Dream Police finding criminality
Crimes against humanity my lack of sanity has to be what it is to be
To bring me to serenity
Stripping away the inside of me a paranoid fragility
My head hurts….just let me be
In the dark absence of light so filled with fright
My heads not right
I hate those fucking tremors in the night