An Autumn with Zeus

This will be where all the lyrics can be accessed (copyright controlled, naturally).


The idea grand idea was to have a reasonably cheap pamphlet to give out or sell at clubs or concerts. Many have been subsequently butchered for lyrics. There’s even a children’s tale. The original copies have all vanished now – I don’t have one. I recently found an old manuscript, which appears to contain most, if not all, of that material. So, here it is.

The Manuscript

An Autumn With Zeus


A liquid-steel fiend carving vast realms

of sunset terror and jeopardising all

moonlight chains of amethyst

with a molten might of immense improbable fear

and a fragile mind shaking like a stricken leper

all a-tremble and downcast

pining like a child looking skyward

and longing for a starbeam

to chill his shallow heart.

To foresee is but a portentous nightmare of limitless gore

and the ravaging of faces of the

far western reaches of the formless one.



Shifty was a planet punk,

An angel steeped in lore,

He fell in love with Goldie,

A fawn-girl phantom whore.



Throwing aside love’s painful beat

he jumped swiftly into waters grey-gold,

let us whisper symphonies of real tint

pierce the eyes of wonder-people happy-be

shake aside the sloth of the speechless folk.

She caressed my heart-eyes

they agonise even pain

boldly thrusting mortal framework of friends

perceiving the blood-rush flow of conflict

other woman freed to take mathematical steps.

She, love’s wings sweeping o’er my eternal feature,

burst asunder the internals of wordless beings,

O! ’tis the distant call of parted faces,

the lip doth approach the gulf of tortured streams

wherein emotion is enchained.

Nameless, yet defeated, be ye, love-child.



The Word

No word was written

None perceived the word

Yet the word he uttered

And only I heard.



From the frozen peaks of some disgusting ebon nightmare

dragging a scandalous youth along the tightropes of time

with a vigour so wild that a screaming marauding monkey

would quiver quietly

a cloaked shadow in a venomous void

staring only at the strange glacial plains of a gloomy waste

while upon his harsh leash this pouting boy swears,

by Ejavinak’s beard, that such mastery is odd, poikilothermically odd.

Aeons of prehistoric servile penitude for a foppish mongrel

is a fearsome thing for a lad whose lashing razor

as casual as a bar-room joke

tears the innocent hides of the

beguiling hordes of a sheik’s slumbers.

And the shadowy form

gliding like a whisper through the years

untethering his twisting hound

abandons the youth

but his pitiful yelping falls upon deaf continents

strewn upon the naked reaches of a wild territory

a rotting young frame exposes gay carnivals of death

and the monasteries of his mind

are now an entomologist’s paradise.

While a spider creeps a shadow races

dissolving like whitebait in a sunbeam’s path.



Towers of Echo

Diamond-toed foes tore up dreams in their cells

scorching plated chicks with their torches of hell

an emaciated fool flew the black mobile box

closeted like a clown he bore into her fox.

Does a dream drive you insane?

Boy, does your woman fill you with pain?

Let the wind blow your mind to the sun-dipped south

Let loose your soul on her fine-chiselled mouth.

Ripped up they sparkled like gems in the dark

like acid on toads in a demented park

the city felt sick and turned gold and blue

and the skyscrapers tumbled in the bright morning hue.

Did your life drive you wild?

Girl, did that boy fail to make you mild?

Let the sky take your head to an outer orb

Let loose your brain with an alien yob.



My shadow remains but a laser of breath

as it beholds the cascading dilemma of literature

a soul unread all digital and quartz

like a mind dripping furiously with gore.

When you touch the warm blood with your pink gloves

my eyes turn grey

and I gaze upon the icy corals

of a tormented sea and corpses strewn

like medieval rags in poppy fields of ancient misery.

The flame of the torch is but a gasping

of the burning of a star

and the argonautical vision runs rip.

Bounded by the scars of the inexorable

slicing of a dragon’s claw and the

demonic wailing of some Charonic menace

a poor distraught oaf smiles hideously

at victims now smoking ‘pon pyres

like roasted sprats on stoves on a stinking strand

and the hand of a leper

grimly points to the skulls of a tangled future.




Fluid was your love as you danced in the sun

a gracile delight and you’re the only one

like a pillar in a storm

like a fan in a throng

I want to play with your body, yes,

all night long.

Could you toss me like a feather

to the depths of the ocean?

Could you fool me like a demon

with your honey-dream potion?

Will your mind explode?

Will our tools corrode?

Won’t you juggle with my body

all night long?




a neo-magnetic dream

too strange to read

a numbing pain

unleashed to breed

They were stranger than fixion

They were stronger than us

We were stunned by the diction

Overcome by the fuss.

a moronic scream

that tears the page

a scroll of science

from a fabled age.

They were stranger than fixion

They were larger than life

They were stranger than fixion

Better run to your wife.




Some people want to take a stroll

Some people want to rock ‘n roll

I’ve seen the Pope kiss a Punk

Rubber-doll sex and water-bed bunk.

Sunset terror, she’s unreal,

Cries of death and flashing steel

Sunset terror, she’s unreal,

Punks on film, reel to real.

Dark on the streets out with your knife

a hallowe’en child unbreathing life

subway shadows screaming punks

camouflage bondage and safety-pin skunks.




A chilling woman of magique cast a look of

wild disdain, her glancing taurian eyes flashing,

a spirit of imprisoned gloom

like a chained memory forever lost

in a Rhadymanthine crypt,

her robes of stunning Spanish viciously spinning

magnetic webs around the temples of gold

and a leviathan mass fled her ugly sabres of obsidian

but her paean was strong

as she blasted the throng

and all vanished in the cold prisms of light.




Vaticano Braziliano

A humble creature is on his way

in his mind ‘cross the sea

coz there is no road

there is no hope

this is no joke

he must see the Pope.

Who do you think you are? Jarazelski.

Where do you think you are? Mr. Breznez.

Why are you smiling now? Lech Valesa.

Why don’t you smile at me? Come to Poland.

Goodbye! Solidarity!

Tango! Solidarity!

Goodbye! Archbishop!

Tango! Do the glemp!



Desert-skinned maiden of sand-featured brow

cool among dusty hot fellows

love’s plastic-mould brightness spins drearily

into Intellect’s eery pit.

I gaze longingly into your martini expressions

pausing to breathe after night-like dreams

the water ever-flowing soaking my cells

silences thy overtures thy towers erect as skin-forests

a cockroach mind eluminates my brain

like some fiend on a feminine night

wooing the darkness of her heart

even Bhagavad-Gita is solemned

as you dance ever-coloured neath your master’s glancings

be vain neath the fatty rib cage

peanut liquid is the sole survivor of

an exquisite evening with eastern-jewelled folk

swimming in the convulsions of bloodstream

anglicised studente prevails over dark liquer

solidified neath the gaze of the burnt syphon-child

emotion is a ragged cloth a linen feature

bathed in chlorine-green acids

a beaming soda fluid

wild is the child

as ever flowing amidst



I lurked in the endless tunnel of darkness

glowing in the gloomy waters of Pluto’s halls

to persist in my toils of necromancy

a nekropompos of real vivacity

flex in my ethereal majesty.



Saturnian-eyed maid reeling in parthenonic glance

flaying raw nettle-flesh with mighty politician hands

twas sad!

the lightbulb sang woodgrain to sleep

as Holst bathed cool in summer cologne

young serpent he coiled amongst barking ships

and seized the tail of hand-woven fables

an Islamic hand lay a many-towered castle

upon brawny weedlings and

smote the hairy-crested fishermen

like cassette-minded people

the royal pen rested upon beds of music

as the sky boiled stars in the cauldrons of night.



Fisk-like gulping Chaucer the saxon lady gravely

washed the palate of the sea-bed

away! teareth the axe from the children

metaphysically sighing salt knowledge

while I give you a diamond to cry with

brushing guilt-like formations on a forehead

wrapped in snowy canvas

the sylph of the hall of pictures

gaze long through woodland thicket

perceiving only a speck of colour

a yellow-witted grandfather

oft has the scarecrow whined at the finery of cloud-mountains

pouring forth watery fountains of sap

while snakes eat trees and wheels of motionless pictures

the sun-chariot of Phoebus close haunts

the skies of wordless nights

that tempt snails to breathe upon orchids

with champagne-explored laughter

the mighty oceans approached bottled cliffs

honouring glory-filled jars of sunlight

perhaps the firs with moistened pine

were melting ice molten with blood

even mourning the call of the golden jackdaw

And there sat my sister closely watching

the darkened river the strangled trees

the solstitial pain of the scarecrow

who married the creatures of the ground

to beget statues

hasten to the copse of knowledge and sit

entangled in limbs upon the toadstool of remembrance

as ever

sister, choke, while the face at the window dies

as your fingers tear

I, too, have a throat swollen with fratricidal love

Ichneumon, ’tis love indeed.

time curled round my arm

a blue canopy of mist sunk through my hair

and fibrous strings melodiously

crushed the neural cave

tear the leather from its many-horned back

watch the mighty lizard sink into

the muddy swamps of Chromar

smile at the toothlike rocks penetrating the fleshy structure

see the lava seeping out of leather

golden-haired child, ”tis strange

a distant paradise to walk with traffic

lamp-like freezing in an empty bed

weeping the water-woman sprang

from the deeps of the river world

enrobed in silv’ry tresses

dark gleams darness

whispering nymph tales of barnacle homes

eating scarlet beads thrusting

gold cigarettes into boneless faces

elegantly swaying in the waltz waves

the silver robes unfold

and I melt into the oily pavement

as ever

had I but a single axe thou wouldst all perish

unseemly afore this audience

lo! the leafy tumbles o’er my gracious lawn

a host of warriors bold march solemnly over a long bough

to celebrate the festival of leafy-tumble town

exclaiming in manly but theological voice

” Buttress up thy princely folk!”

O water-woman thou enticest trickling torrents to sparkle

spin wheel-like to the grave of the ground-lords and

welcome the sulphur-man from afar to share thy couch.




I want to be a Venesectionist

You want to be a Venesectionist

We’re all going to be Venesectionists

Can’t you see? It’s bleeding obvious.

Take a knife, slit your wrist,

Just like a phlebotomist

Come on now, don’t be vain,

Watch it dripping down the drain.

Take a razor up to bed

And slash about until it’s all red,

Dice with death just like us,

You know it makes sense, bleeding obvious.

Fleba skazay!

Let’s face it,

Death is something we all have to live with.




Such precious time

So few the minutes

A hand on mine

A city limits

A smoking train

A split second

A frozen brain

And two lovers kiss it.

Some of you need these vital hours

Some of you want this precious time…..

Such precious time.




The eyes of the world are upon you

Though Sri Lankan stars they may gleam

Ceylonic eyes scan the ocean

For a sub-aquatic dream

O! Can’t you see my face, Sri Lanka?

O! Won’t you touch my hands, Sri Lanka?




You’ve got yourself a message

You’ve got yourself a phone

You’ve got yourself a love-affair

But your heart’s got no home,

Your body’s in the swimming-pool,

Your soul is in the bar,

Now you know you’re noone’s fool,

And your song is in the car.




Slow down, girl, you’re moving much too fast

You’re pounding a rhythm with yo ass,

Sister, you’re dynamite suppressed,

But I love you most when you’re undressed.


Love’s a romantic dream

Coz the moon is green,

Love’s just a ruptured spleen

When the moon is green.

The cosmic winds just stay galactic

But I’m gonna keep you here ecstatic,

Lady, entranced by my eyes of fire,

Your touch, it just explodes into desire.

The sunset hangs ‘pon my frozen lawn

Like your icy skin it makes me spawn,

Torments, Girl, Miss Midnight’s lick,

I think, maybe, you’re choking on my Moon-stick.




Shifty, don’t leave me on Pluto,

‘Cause these halls are so vast,

They’re just chrys-elephantine

Pretensions of the past.

My syrup will loose your dandruff

Tendrils hung from your skull

What once the ancients did cherish

I’m now deemed to mull.

Paganised lore you may impose,

But, O Shifty, can you wriggle your toes?

Goldie, just take me to Venus,

And there to laze on your mount

Frictionised, sweat, volcanic,

Drink from my fount.

Girl, fix your eyes to the stars,

And don’t forget, we still eat cars.

Decomposed fame is ferrous, love,

Will you remain my galactic Dove?



Wind draped a musical cloak upon my roof

garlanding my head with dewy mist

aloof as a king, dreamily did I walk

head-stuff was like twisted reality

ever-children are we who reign amidst

the depths of our minds

ever-wise are they who reign amidst the

shallows of their mind

even wiser is He who achieves mastery over

His universal mind.




Jungabilly Chimpanoboy looking for a house

in the trees

Got a desert hat perched on his head

And he’s squinting through a rush of the breeze,

His monkey claw slides in the sands

For a shell all green with foam

He smiles at the dog at the water’s edge

It’s with him he’s going to Rome.

We are the Strangers.

A snakeskin sermon ‘neath the leafy umbras

Of a palm-lined shore

A God for a friend or

A Dog for a mate

A lonely despair and

Love’s become hate.

You are the Strangers.



Weeping the Child swum in the darkness of nether time

crawling back through th’ eternal bowers of the mezozoic heavens

peace, let falleth silence, everlasting rest,

Hybla’s sons, now sing.

A Korean-styled tomcat clawing like a mighty lizard

my lava-blood exposed an evil mind

concealed behind a tent of sunlight

thunder struck swiftly pausing only

to curse at my wretched soul

pouring forth lightning

to tear open my sheath of gold

caught amid spiney cacti

my head split into myriads of bronze stars

each lurking at the door of the Mighty one

for the face that haunts a thousand dead

may haunt even the god that set it free.




I’m going to put my sweetheart in a Rock ‘n Roll spin

we’ll get zaperoonied on bacardi and gin

I’ll get out my knife and turn on the charm

and I’ll blow in her ear and bite on her arm.

We’ll go to the stars in my dirty old car

and I’ll sing you a song on your plastic guitar

glaukopide girl, your green eyes glow

oh and, by the way, does your boyfriend know?

We’ll run down to Sico’s and have a good laugh

and you’ll pull on my neck like some great human scarf

I’ll wake up next morning old dap on at dawn

and howl at the sun coz my sweetheart’s gone.

We smile at each other with consummate ease

it’s all boogalonix and bitter for tea

I’m cool and I’m smug and I tease you with glee

but give me a break and stop punching me.



How the wind doth howl!

’tis a night of wailing

and I do fear the tread of your reflection

I unwind in the folds of my Uranic skin

to peer through the hole in the shell

beyond to a world of emerald light

where the wild ones chant my paean

and the ancient genius slices the silent being

where grass wet with glistening droplets of dew

is blazened with blue flames

there a man waves his hand choked with money

and the wind blows a kiss

while I crush the shell in my hand

a volcano spat and blinded

I fell to the dust and sank in the sandy shore,

a Spartan.




Put a hand on your hip

and a finger on your brow

you feel like a fool

you act like a cow

you wear a black fur coat

but it’s all for show

we need stilettos

we need stillettos

we all want stillettos on our backs.

Take out a mirror

the lipstick’s bright red

I’d better not say it

coz it’s all been said

we all need romance

but all you’ve got’s a bed

you need a body

you need a body

you need somebody between your legs.



The Elixir of Happiness ( a tale for children)

Part 1

You are like the eagle that swoopeth upon a leaf of dawn,

day of new birth, and the piercing sunlight through a lofty elm,

cantations of Oyne the magnificent reaching for the eyrie of the sky

sanctuary of hawks

Alas! for mankind the soul has been lost

yet for dwarves love has a heart.

Part 2

Down in the bowels of the earth lives Bombour

who like most others seeks the magic potion

the elixir for everlasting happiness

yet the self-disciplined fellow has been tragically, so very tragically,

left alone in a wilderness of chafing ice-pools.

But he smiles to the green and blue creatures that hop on the ice

and they whisper words of reassurance that make Bombour extremely happy

for Bombour has only to drink the crystal waters of the ice-pools

to be happy for evermore

and he would be the first dwarf ever

to become acquainted with the magic elixir.

Bombour was so glad that he began to sing such remarkably melodious airs

that his deep voice seemed to become soft and harmoniously divine

like those of the pining pixies of Petronika

and this was his song.

“Now hear, all ye dwarves,

so grand and bold,

I’ve found the potion

so wondrous of old

I’ve esteemed myself grand

to remain so happy

now heed me in this

as all you dwarves should.”

Continueth he till at last night came then Bombour was found and destined for fame

he returned home to his garden full of flowers and brightly-painted house

and there he sat down, weeping and sobbing,

for his wife, whom he had loved so much, was gone.


Poor Bombour, whose good soul and faint heart

for all his goodness had undeservedly perished

because a wife had ignored bluntly the love of a dwarf.

And Bombour cried and cried

weeping wet tears

into streams and fountains of chilly waters

which formed millions of tiny ice-pools

whose liquid is

the elixir of happiness.



Sitting passively in a wicker chair pursuing some tyrant into the kitchen of the coals

am Anglican fox howled some reverend songs smiling

his gratitude for the early fires impeached my entrance

stark and yet reeling in self-pride

wielding some quill upon a noble gender

lustfully scraping the page

spurning Oedipal odium yet bee-like emerging from the bed of his mind

spitting silt from his eyes

Behold the Teiresias of now, celestial and omniscient.



Blood trickling from my thumb into the hole in the sky

like some nineteenth century painting which gleefully screamed

belching rain like some ghost on a wet day

awaiting the rider of the bitumen machine

whirling aside went the man from the bark within

how tender all this was!

She stooped to gather ashes from beside the couch

gaping hard at the fire gripping fiercely her shirt

she groaned and the couch moaned

swallow, fly out of her womb.

Eh! Bien!

A clock remarked at a sparkle of rain eternally singing

whirling aside went the man from the bark within

how tender all this is!

Eh! Bien!

chanted the clock.



And the prophet whispered,

“I am the son of time itself.

Let him kiss the Muse, to spit his wondrous lyrics

into the eyes of the artesian-seekers who

suck and suck and suck.

Words are words and prose is monotony, Aryan,

How divinely boring!

Jackdaws are able to caw louder than that.”

Thus said the soul of Gita.



In a month was I all.

The sagging leaf trips tuneful to the

earthy floors of You.

Lo! We dance entombed yet finely-moulded

by your tusks of bronze.

Yea! We sleep brow-beaten and dream-tossed

‘pon your pillows of grass.



Placed upon a pedestal of pure marble-poise


that sloths among the jungle of mankind.



The palace on the hill doth stench with naivete

lordly glances at bright machines

oh! let my hair kiss the night

vanity maketh your drums beat no longer

falsely saturated yet not inferior to sophomoric tobacco-brain.

Let me behold that glassy distance of midnight tubes

scream beneath the leaden foot of the Hephaestonian

lament till your birth kills you

crave for I smile at windows where lords discarnate dreamanakinganam.

Vulcan is striding where passion’s wings hover not

yet suppuration of soul sovereign be.



You swoop down some dark street to strangle my meat

sweet euphonic baby you’re so cool

Aphrodite’s daughter is warm inside, though

you clawed me like a leopard

but I clung like a slug.

Satisfaction mania

it’s so hard to contain ya

Satisfaction mania

I shall take you to pain, Dear.

Crawl to me, pretty baby,

I’m your cosmical tormented sex creature

O my child, raping honey-cat

you’re busting my mind like a sex-wrangled rat

to me you’re just a goddess

a spring-skinned gold-brained temptress.



Euthanasia (Death Wish)

Got no sense

Got no brains

Spend my life

Living in drains

Spend my life

Like a sewer rat

Coz I am a euthanasiac.

Conflagration is the key

I just want to burn, mummy,

Take me to the crematorium

I want to escape

This life of boredom

Take the fire exit!

Restitution of any damages does not preclude you

From further action at a future date

By the committee

And Stan, yes,

Because Stan is the man.

Open shops

Open parks

Open sores

Open wounds

I want to ska

In the open air

Coz I am euthanasia.

Slit this!

I’m just a number

On a badge

On a body

In a morgue

And they keep me on ice

But I keep bouncing back

Coz I’m a necrophiliac.



Glancing upwards into the dim depths

farther than the gloom could conceive even of itself

where a lurking evil bathed in heinous wrath

harnessed its winged horses to its chariots of fire

with swift awareness sweet Immortality sped in joyous flight

and produced through cumbersome might the Books of Genius and Culture

and engraved them with odours of brightest blooms

from the distant lands of the race of soul-perfection

whose intellect when sublimely cultivated

is tossed in the divine waters of love

purer than the heart of Diana

the genius of the maturing souls is secretly entombed

amid the fields of the universe

to be released for eternal journeying

blessed with a host of virtues

to gaze upon the woman tortured with the cupidity of motherhood

superior to the shrill cry of the pedantic ground-lords

the soul passes to the abodes of paradise

converging with the reverent souls of sweet Immortality’s genius

a brood wonderful glorious in peaceful serenity

who lick the crusts of worlds in bitter contrition

and drink the ocean’s surf in thirsting solitude

and swim the aery roofs of time in quest of Supremacy

and the soul beat its fiery hearth

and smokey genius flowed cloudily

moulding the perfection of self

wrapped in the purple cloaks of beauty

Immortality thrust the huge halls of pity aside

spinning softly into the hearts of the peoples of the swirling lands

and like a storm many worlds sank confusedly through degeneration of the soul

as her pure hands grasped towering citadels

and felled them to golden dust

the peaceful destruction of sinful civilisations was

as the white flower of love giving birth to breathless Infancy

upon which all-knowing Nature could exhale life’s substance

and the renaissance of Time’s children

could be rekindled with a warmth and cherishing glow.



He arose like some many-clouded bird

from his soaring seat deep in the heavens

whence all-powerful Nature engulfing the skies with her blasting embrace

seized him gazing sadly into the dim future yet angrily waging her wrath

piercing the sky-deeps as when tide and winds collide such was her force

with a reptilian smile he clung to her hair shadowy-black

trembling at her Arctic swiftness of foot

whilst seeking the wondrous warmth of her tender breast

the man of wonder danced while he was being wrested from joyous sleep

Lo! on awakening appeared evil Rytes who devoured wine chalice and all

punished for tasting a gory cocktail he departed limbless

from the great hall with a royal escort a flock of doves

Would that sleep still encumbered the bewildered child

and the man of wonder steal off to practise some ancient evil on another!

sudden was there a storm-bound gale blowing chains of iron

through the dark air of the pallid sky

o’er tiny forests of fungus sparkling in dawn’s dew

like an earthquake it fell upon the halls of the wonder king

who strait was embedded neath the towers of rubble

great seas flowed upon the city drowning even blue flowers

the Child was plucked out of the swollen surf by all-seeing Nature

and was again carried comforted neath the cushion of her breast.



“And warriors marched amid the stoney passages of the sea-castle

their armour bright in the darkest wat’ry shadows

proud and bold in the face of torment

yet now amazed at the me who glides through dewy vales

fleet as silv’ry horses on sunny dunes

morning herself

and the men beheld a form so vivid locked in a well of pity

that fear seized the bravest of mighty Armo’s columns

my face was iridescently sparkled with blooms of tiny church-like daisies

I smiled at the head the interior echoed softly

as the salty waves may beat on a distant shore

fear seized even the mighty one himself

how gaily danced the tears in my eyes

expecting a repeated chorus of whitish snarls

ah! a bell rang out a hollow cliche

enraged was my impish expression

marvellously rocking in his mighty form

shaking the orb’s vaunted mass

pelting the high-browed starlets of pity

perhaps bitter at my powerful escape

as if one catches a bolt of thunder and wraps it streams of lightning

I uncoiled the chains of pity from my neural fingers

thrusting them into the halls of Armo I flew out of the well

to see the ancient fortress of the sea burst asunder

now O Calliope speed forth your wondrous timeless gifts

freed from the cruel servility of Armo

I hastily forged a path into a stormy cloud of some modern brain.”



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