the relations of production

the hand that gives     is the hand that takes     money is our god      make no mistake     they say money talks     and money makes sense    but the game is rigged at our expense     we’re taking names     and talking shit     laying blame     and sick of it     our parasitic system      has left us helpless and alone      but the rich will always prosper      their progress is well known      they tell me this is natural     the rich are rich      the poor are poor    it’s just the way it is      the dynamics of the system defy analysis    but our labour is the price     for the little we can save     we’ll labour for our living    we’ll labour to the grave      we’ll grease the wheels of industry      for our paltry weekly wage

    

mister natural

never worked a day in my life        won’t sweat blood for the machine       blood is heavier than gold      but what do I know?      I’m just a bum balancing the scales       my advice to would be scholars      is to do what you like      but don’t let your imagination run away with you       don’t lose yourself in the herd       or let modest claims of individuality     camouflage your bovine curiosity    just plant a flag in the anecdotal and call it history       

but don’t listen to me        I’m a certified fool      I renounce history         all histories are phony       I have no history      I just tell convenient stories       this life was spent dreaming        yesterday’s cause is lost        let tomorrow care for tomorrow’s woes          I won’t cry today     I feel I’m halfway high    just from thinking about it      I’m pitching naturals from now on      these dice are loaded and the table is mine

beatified

 I don’t read the papers       I just follow the signs    I get all the information I need in stereo        messages from heaven      transmitted in high definition     directly into my cranium      my senses may be addled       but my heart is instrumental     in sorting out those waves      I needn’t be sober to garner their substance      the lyrics are set in time    to a long familiar refrain

they tell me god loves a drunk       because all drunks are poets      and all poets are killers      when it comes down to it     and it often does    we are all of us killers       but I don’t seem to mind      I’ll gladly take the blame      if there’s any going     my hereditary fault lines      my bipolar distemper       mete out eyeball for eyeball      and subtle truth for gain   

it ain’t rocket science      just simple dharmic law     the children of men are routinely tested       to live and love and lose again    that’s the sum of our existence        those are the rules of engagement      the nature of the game       that’s how the courageous love       as lions among lambs     in the pastures of eternity       in a story without end

the infinite and radiant IS

the infinite and radiant IS   bestowed upon me a kiss   and she whispered in my ear    that she’d always held me dear     she banished all the shadows   that once played upon my heart     she said that though I’d felt alone     we’d never been apart   she knew that I had suffered   the countenance of men     but I would never lose her love     or lose my way again   

she said that I now owned the world   and everything therein    and nothing that I would ever do   could ever be a sin   and it filled my heart with joy      to know I was her favourite boy    how do I explain?   I was reborn again

she told me she was everywhere   and she was everything      from the fish deep in the ocean    to the birds out on the wing   she said that none of this is real  but thinking makes it so   this world is an illusion   that we must one day let go   

she is the love supernal   and her light shines eternal    she has been my lover   since the dawn of time   she’s my sister and my mother   there’s never been another    she's a lifetime confidante    and the dearest friend of mine    I know her most intimately   so I can assure you of this   everything that ever was   and everything that is   has always been the property of    the infinite and radiant IS

 

infinite space

when I’m dead and gone     don’t you cry for me      and I’m simply moving on    and I hope you’ll come to see     that no-one ever really dies    for each of us lives on in immortality

none of this is real      but thinking makes it so      this world is an illusion      that one day we’ll  let go     I tried to live this life      without a single care    I never made a penny       but I’ve been everywhere       

I’m an immortal soul    and I’ll still be about    long after the sun has died    and the stars have all burned out    when everything we’ve known     has  disappeared without a trace     my journey shall continue       somewhere in infinite space

universal dogma

the universal dogma     is a liturgy of fictions     the fable of creation     is an article of faith      that binds the entire race    in a suicidal compact   of ignorance and hate    there are existential dilemmas     that will not be resolved   through  ritual supplication   to a non-existent god      we are slaves to an orthodoxy      that has us blinded and divided    if we eliminated those illusions     we’d see that supernatural forces    are products of the imagination    the key to our destiny     lies in our own hands

raven

 

death is the bird      perched on your shoulder        who counts your days    and marks out your time         that song is mine      and never grows older      so show me good grace    for I am your master      this world belongs to my children and I

I live alfresco    don’t need television     I gather my news    straight from the vine    we’re crashing out    to another dimension       these shoes were meant    for sunnier climes     pour us some sense    from an unopened bottle      and drink of a truth     that won’t be denied

there’s nothing to fear    so don’t get excited     it’s so hard to live      but it’s easy to die       you’ll hear music wrapped up in thunder    you’ll feel the essence of something divine     I am the raven that carries you over    and paints you immortal    if you’re so inclined  

 

god must die

 god is dead     long live god   the god of mercy   that sacrificial lamb    paved the way for the church of sex and violence    we are all subscribers now     to the show that never stops    

we kill god again   and again    every time we murder innocence    when we kill for killings sake   when we make children enemies of the state   we doubled up on that shit   we never tire of killing gods

happiness is fleeting   but your pain will always be attended   god whispers to us in our joy     and screams at us in our pain     I murder god in my sleep   in my very dreams   I murder god for breakfast   before I start the day   

our prayers are an admission of our weakness     ours is a hunger that cannot be satisfied   we were meant for some other world    some world of eternal love    because of what remains for us    faith    and hope    and love    the latter is sovereign in our hearts   they say the darker the night    the brighter the stars    the deeper the despair    the closer to god    and that is why god must die

listen to the Creature EP

mendacious

 

there are things you never forget     especially things that didn’t happen    the past is what we remember    or pretend to remember   it’s purely subjective    there is no past really    just shady memories   and stories we tell ourselves

there’s no real distinction between the true and false   most things are neither   most of what people say is evasion   to expose the poverty within ourselves   is a frightening possibility    best to make something up   do a little dance   and hope no-one is watching

I don’t remember you    I remember me    and what I thought of you    I had you pegged as a liar    but we are all liars   our lives are one big lie   and our lies are beautiful   they help us perfect who we are

don’t all lies lead inexorably to the truth?   is there not a kernel of truth in every lie?   all stories    true or false   lead to the same conclusions    sometimes lies are easier to swallow than truths   the truth can blind    but lies merely illuminate

we are all actors in our lives    we just pretend to be who we want people to think we are     as actors each must play their part as if it were real    but we are all of us works of fiction     in this world of monstrous truths    it’s probably just as well

 

listen to the Creature EP

vox dei

 

I was certified ordinary at the lollipop factory    but an undetected defect seized me by the knackers     and I seen the god of babylon riding on his chariot    through the cooperative store    and I seen he had sharks eyes    cold and dead and joyless   and he was just a boy   a youth of eternal summer   but he made my blood run cold    I’d give that cunt a wide berth     but he’s the master of this world

I hid from him then    but I won’t be caged no more    I won’t play his bloody game    it’s my turn now to forge secrets   and manufacture a legacy   he kept us in the dark    but he forgot to hide the books     I’ve been a busy boy   I know all his secrets   he cannot chain my mind    with snake oil and magic lotions   so he can just dream on    because I can think for myself

all gods are false gods    there ain’t nothing behind the curtain     there are no wizards in Oz      all religions are man made    we crowned the god of babylon and we can bring him down      is that seditious?     am I laying a crime on your ears?     dummy up and  listen good     while I lift the veil from your eyes      the seditious are the only honest beings left   we will not live the lie    it’s something of a handicap    in a world where liars and charlatans are deified  

I was as distant from him as I could be    then I was plunged into darkness   on the 5:15    there was brief a spark of recognition    but it was swallowed by the inky black  and the god of babylon spake unto me      his first lie was epic   but his last was pathetic   I don’t judge   but I was never a believer  he was all transmission    how could he know what I was thinking?   that limp procession of falsehoods and threats bemused me    you don’t have to do that    not if you are a god      he smote me then    with instruments of my own devising    it took me a lunar year to scrape my arse off his shoe

sweet pilgrim you’d better beware    so many people around you are phonies    and you could be a phony too    and never know   there was a time you knelt in prayer   and the words were a comfort to you     now you suspect you were only talking to yourself    and that the god you built from old stories and wishful thought   has a veracious appetite     and he gorges on his makers day and night    that god is the fountain of all lies    and a parchment of your imagination

hear the Creature EP

brand new semiotics for mind body and soul

 

some days I drag the low end      but it doesn’t matter    it doesn’t bother me     I won’t be writing any suicide notes     on that account    I’m not fixing to die anytime soon       I just began learning how to live       but I have  circumstances to accommodate     and those can be a bitch      but I can’t complain

I won’t reach out      if there’s no need      it’s not just my pride      there’s no point in me spilling my guts   if I’m only crying wolf     it doesn’t pay to take yourself too seriously     when you are subject to sudden change    I might foment a little poison in my cup from time to time       but I always have the antidote in my pocket     

I take life as it comes      I make no demands of anyone      and I only do what I want to do      so you can stow your neutral gaze      I’ll have  passion in my playpen      and the freedom to live as I please 

I’m just a dog with a bone      still fighting a war     that ended long ago     I could tell you things     you would not believe      so I won’t waste words      you’d only call me a liar   but you wouldn’t know which me is really me         or if my words are matched by deeds

which me is me?    the crazy wild impulsive me?     or the darkly reclusive suicidal me?    someone picked me up and shook my  shadow loose   now the pieces have fallen back to earth    but nothing is where it ought to be      I tried to run away        but you can’t lose your shadow     even if the sun shines a little less brightly for you

everything happens     for a reason     or it doesn't     it's hard to tell        when you so often see       just what you expect to see        my story is not a sad story      my story is an abstract    about a boy who survived a storm he thought would never end        but it was during that terrible storm   that he discovered he carried a fire within    he learned to kindle that flame at will    and always keeps the makings close to hand

Catechism # 371

 

I pulled the plug           cut the chord          the dividends        were huge        I learned to breathe        to be myself      no more pretence       no more posturing        I renounce the instrumental       in most situations        I own my fear         if fear becomes me      when moved I cry        if tears are called for      I celebrate my     little triumphs      as treasures won         if they suit my      temperament      and they ain’t           too heavy       for me to carry

hear my voice