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.
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.
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.
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.
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
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
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
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.
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,
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)
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.
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.
A clock remarked at a sparkle of rain eternally singing
whirling aside went the man from the bark within
how tender all this is!
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.
it’s so hard to contain ya
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.
I want to ska
In the open air
Coz I am euthanasia.
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
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.”