Creation Epic.
after the chaos, i achieve my form: beautiful face and a single horn. i tear it from my skull in self-disgust. i can still see, through the hole, my neighbors repulsed.
Lisa the Picture.
is this a story or a lie? i know you'll never forget me. two sillhouettes saying goodnight, with a whole lot of spending money. i'm only seventeen, seventeen years old. when i was seventeen, it was a very good year (it was a very good year for small town girls). when i was seventeen, it was a very good year (it was a very good year for city girls). i'm only seventeen; i want to be someone. and i've been known to the girls. put your gloves on, we're going to sink the world. i'm only seventeen. will you hear, or think, in your fits? a breast - you break. your passions, they're hanging out (i slashed you open, and they're hanging out). i can say i'm not naive ... i wanted you to get down with me. (she loves me, she loves me not)
The Beast Man.
he once was a lamb, a little living heart. we cooked him up, we ate every part. sleep, sleep, sleep in vain, little living lamb. from the comfortable current between two big sweaty hands and a solid wall, uncolored and uncontrolled, you'll have to devour our slowly undulating forms. this soft parade of hours, a river of minutes. i am the world. i am the world's original man. the shy man.
Orange.
this is our call to chaos and raging torrents of self we can't swallow, hollow though we are. orange girl, my saviour, my messiah. horrible world, my place in you is clear, my tools are near. the fool becomes a man; beautiful world, your new bard is at hand. i was born to lift the lid off this world and drop some dynamite in and lean on the plunger and write a song about how it ends. it all goes up in a beautiful orange swirl. the end of this horrible world looks exactly like someone i know, but i can't place the eyes, the scar on the nose, the flames around it like a flickering halo of orange. orange girl, do you have any idea what you have done to me? it's awakened now, and it's too loud to ever get back to sleep.
A Narrow Place.
i run my hand against my wall. i have forgotten what password to call. i think your name, and i touch my wall. i wonder if you can feel it at all.
Meg1.
quanta, quanta, do you wanna meet me? free me? everything i've ever loved, i manufactured. could you come alive with the right word? you said "3 cheers for pre-emptive strike," and two words on a postcard changed my life. henry miller. i still have the postcard.
I Am Not In Love With You.
your paintings are beautiful, and your letters seem mmm. i am not in love with you; is that what you needed? i am entranced, continually amazed, and perpetually interested in you. ok.
Unacceptable.
i have myself lowered in the alligator pit all dressed in comestibles. you're always there screaming that things like this are unacceptable. i call to you, you won't let me in, so i claw at you and break the skin, and you still turn me away, and i know you won't stay. o, baby, give me today; tell me you don't mean to say it's unacceptable. it's unacceptable to play out a fiasco. my love will beckon me by playing the piano.
Sarah the Middle.
i can't feel my gloves; this must be love.
THE BODY
Elsewhere.
what's that word that means anywhere but here? what should i say if i'm not sincere? wake me up, wake me up, i know this is a dream. i'm sitting in my car, but some bitch siphoned my gasoline. there is a place inside of me, and i want so bad to put you there, but my heart collapses on itself because all my blood is elsewhere.
Suivorous.
she looked at me with glowing eyes. "you're beautiful," i commented. she said, "would you like some lamb?" i vomited.
1,000 Years.
with puppet hands and fingernails, i recommend the firing squad. put me away for a thousand years. i'll stay alive drinking my tears. you've given me something to live for, but i am your sweet fratrivore. henry miller, have your fill with her; i am no longer a human impersanator.
Space Seed.
o, cronos, what poison i must have been - i came out and i'm not what you put in. all your prophecies and all your sympathies, you always knew which one would win. so you came to me with an offering, so i'll absolve your sins. eat them, eat them, i bought them from a magician. buy me a souvenir for i am a tourist here. look into these eyes and honestly tell me i'm the same thing you are. i'm the hanging man, can't you see? and i've a task for thee: quickly, quickly, spread these seeds around for me.
K in Your Book.
take a look at this sad theme. you kept asking, "am i k in your book? i think i must be." it was always knight-to-king's-rook, queen-to-king's-bishop-three. i don't ever think we could have been together, free. but to the sound of moaning loons, i told you i'd be true, then i turned my gaze upon the moon, and my howling went there too. so i wrote this song to croon to you on your radio this afternoon. where do you live? how are you? i fucked things up; i wasn't true. to be honest, i sometimes miss you. the truth is, i actually sort-of loved you. but i know, i know you've already turned off the radio.
Shapes Which Are Familiar To Us.
i wake up fresh and rested. i seldom worry about my health. i am easily awakened. i have a good appetite for self. my father is a good man, or my father was a good man. my teachers have it in for me. i work under a great deal of tension. my hands and feet are usually warm enough. my daily life is full of things that keep me interested. my hardest battles have always been with myself. i have stolen things. i have never been in trouble for my sexual behavior. i do not always tell the truth. sometimes my dreams are fitful and disturbed. i know of things and animals and people that those around me cannot also see. once in a while, i think of things too bad to talk about. i am troubled by attacks of vomiting and nausea. i shrink away from facing difficulties. sometimes i think that you can't see me when i'm standing right in front of you.
Muted Dream Speech.
last night i had a dream where some old gypsy woman told me you were dead. that's all i remember from the dream. remember how it seemed like real love exists forever? we should have taken pictures. we should have taken measures. i've found a way of living now where nothing feels bad. i am falling dangerously in love with myself. remember how it seemed like we were being very clever? we should have checked the tires. we should have checked the weather.
Bad Places.
once upon a time, in a dark place that was bad, a serious problem a very good little boy had. far too early, he learned the nature of man was to live desperately alone. so the boy fell asleep listening to the drone in his headphones. marina and lisa walked up to me and smiled. one said, "this is a dream," and the other said, "that's a lie." they looked at each other, each girl from a different time - they seemed to know something was wrong. then i tapped him on the shoulder, and i smiled and i said to him, "it's you on the phone." so i answered the phone and it was my voice on the line. i said, "what's wrong?" he said, "there's something you should find. you've eaten poison and right now you're probably dying! please drop everything and come home." but the love that i had swallowed i had vomited immediately. it felt like a bone. i came upon myself in an alley and frowned. "i don't know who to trust, or what i can put down," i said, but he just took my hand in his and said, "now," put it in his pants, and moaned. and everything seemed comfortable as i looked him in the eye, kissed him, and awoke. and you'll never be unhappy, and you'll never be alone in your headphones.
Jen the Devil.
another one for you, young pandora hand-in-the-box. you make things come out of me. we are living in the villa borghese. these skin burns don't even phase me. won't you stay forever wet, anais, my kitten, my nymphet? wet with words, with life, with ice. life for you and me in the villa borghese. the pain like snow. the shedded skin of females. sky train to cancer, derail! this picture show. the red and thin fingernails. the dry sea bed of answers, sailed! swallow the woe! and rend the sky of details, so my simple plan will fail.
Heat Death of the Universe.
it all evens out in the end, but it's a long wait for that moment of truth. so i'll just pretend that i've got nothing better to do. i broke the bank, i broke the bank, i beat the house, i outlasted the universe waiting for it.
The End.
love is life is suffering. the end of love is happiness. happy emptiness. in the mirror, my eyes look so cold. but i know better. my hands are warm.
All lyrics by George Dalphin. (c) 2003 Man-Like Machines