HALLELUJAH ASYLUM                                   1987



Slow time travellers in the countries of the mind.  We walk through 
hypnotized cities, speaking alphabets learned by the unconscious
Translated into strange tongues in commune with every muse.
We are holy musicians drunk on white wine and rabid with 
Amphetamines. I have noticed no government or revolution that could
Survive the future. Fears divide you as they multiply.  A tourist to the 
Real world.  Ever discover all your heroes were mad? Don’t forget to 
Take your alternative medicine darling.  You are being watched by God 
And followed by children, how long have you had these feelings of 
Paranoia,Adam ?  Peace is the space between the split atom and the 
Dropped bomb. Silence is defined as the time I draw breath to start 
Laughing again.  The streets are a dictionary, electricity opens me-easy 
Target for cupid the sniper. I’ll pour the drinks, you start a conversation.  
Eyes ablaze with disintegrated stars, you sing when you fuck in the 
Gutters, while immigrants exchange one ghetto for another. 
From bedsit land to the new high cafe society.  I read the chemical 
Memoirs of the European Commuter, a tragic life is romantic when it 
Happens to someone else (Copyright Lucy from Peanuts) Always 
Wanted to be a terrorist, but there is the sense of perfume, trailed in 
Your wake that holds me here to say, ’Let’s get blasted and screw in a 
Cathederal, get stoned in summer fields and pretend we are the last 
Beatniks’.  Hail Kerouac, Ginsberg et al, holy holy holy the burn burn burn!
Let our music sweep over the sky’s oceanic realm and turn the 
Colours inside out - for there is a land where the summer goes at the 
End of her days...Opium by candlelight to melt the windows down, we 
Are dreaming in the flickering darkness. Let us celebrate as the sorrows 
Fall and replace the long night of the soul with a new form of light
Lit by torches of the eternal pagan spirit.  Charcoal Christs, unshaven 
From streetlife ruined and dirty in heroin shit, this is not glamour-it is 
Decay.  Just stay awake when you feel sleepy. Scream at the night and 
Night burning like a fallen angel.  Poetry is broken over thunderstorms as 
Lightning strikes the metal heart.
Each hour is insane with dilated time, the journey is internal for true believers.
I watched a murder committed with love, detached from the event, I could not judge.
An impulse not been felt before.  Dressed in garlands the stoned poet dances  
With the actress on the midnight road, their cinema mind of white lace 
And black feathers intoxicated, illuminated.
Their eyes aimed into the sun-morning made as if it was all done 
With smoke and mirrors. Where butterflies in lilac trees chase in 
Pretty flickering pursuit, alive only for the day.
The inside influences the outside, give it blood and let it take over.  
We will rage our way out of here.
See the eyes of one on fire, tongue between the open lips, the sweetest kiss 
To the sixth sense as the rain flows now.  God is love is light is life is One is God, 
I have almost got it, another twenty years or so and I will be my own guru.  
And in the spirit evening, songs move through the breeze
Secret in silent thought,closed in gold and held melting in a cemetery of the sun.
I will never get used to the holiness of moonbeams across the fields.
There was a secret chord that David played and it pleased the Lord..................


/// Five songs came out of this memory.  I smoked opium once and hallucinated beauty 
through the night.I read On the Road at 19 and heard the record of Howl at 21.  
Does this explain or excuse this page ?///