I’m a Holy Man

September 9, 2009

I wrote this rhyming “poem” on a day when I was pissed off reading stories about gurus and fake “holy” ones who have expensive cars and luxurious life styles so that they can smash the stereotype that the “sacred” is somehow tied in with voluntary poverty. You don’t need me to point out the orange and the lemon people, the boy swami who smiles with a diamond glint from his teeth, the guru who teaches prosperity while touching up sweet  boys and girls.

I know, it’s not just the New Age types that do this, what with paedophilia and rampant materialism in the church, the synagogue, the mosque and the temple.

Getting back to my “I’m a Holy Man”, I know that I wasn’t cool and detached. In many ways it is a childish rant but, hey, that’s OK…..here it is >>>

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I’m a Holy Man.

Sitting on top of this icy mountain                              
my eye gazes on this dicy situation.
Nation on nation fall in rotation
while I’m on my long vacation,
here in my last reincarnation.

I’m a holy man, that’s what I am.
Don’t  need  no  mama  to  hold my  hand,
just need a mantra to be what I am,
cos’ I’m a holy man, the only man, oh yeh!

Liberation is here in my corporation
sign off your isolation with a donation.
Give me your adulation and veneration,
I’ll guarantee there’ll be no more damnation
here in this holy reservation.

I’m a holy man, that’s what I am.
Don’t need no mama to hold my hand,
just need a mantra to be what I am,
cos’ I’m a holy man, the only man, oh yeh!

If you freak out in this wasteland
you can sneak out to this dreamland.
You can howl out what’s been unchained.
You can throw out what’s been retained.
You can swallow what’s been profaned.

Yeh, I’m a holy man, that’s what I am.
Don’t need no mama to hold my hand,
just need a mantra to be what I am,
cos’ I’m a holy man, a holy, holy man,
the only man, a lonely, lonely man, oh yeh!

phil_at-the-gurus-feet


Fortune of Unloaded Hips

August 23, 2009

 

This is a set of song lyrics I wrote ages ago. I looked and looked for the cassette recordings of all these songs I recorded with a bunch of mates, all those years ago and I can’t find one! It’s sad because I like to hear what I sounded like singing these and other songs, along with the music my friends made. They may not be the greatest songs written, but they are mine. Oh well, at least I still have the words and as you know I’ve been posting the lyrics from time to time. Below is a scanned script of my written lyrics.

Fortune of Unloaded Hips


History is an Angel

April 21, 2009

 

History is an angel
Being blown backwards
Into the future
History is a pile of debris
And the angel wants to go back
And fix things
To repair things that have been broken
But there’s a storm blowing from paradise
And the storm keeps blowing the angel backwards
Into the future
And this storm
This storm is called Progress

Laurie Anderson, ‘The Dream Before’

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Laurie_Anderson


Lines of Crazy Fortune

April 12, 2009

 

Another set of lyrics of a song a friend wrote the music for. In some ways, the title alludes to hexagrammic calamities and signs of the I Ching that speak to one who approaches oracles for answers.

lines-of-crazy-fortune


Forgotten Madonna on the Run

February 20, 2009

 

I found some poems and lyrics I wrote some time ago, in a box of stuff I had forgotten about. So here’s one. Yes, it’s a song with chords and melody……., but here all you’re getting are the lyrics.

Forgotten Madonna on the Run

Along the punished ground with no fences,
down the road I go.
I lost my defenses.
Chased the ashes blown by the wind,
siezed the moment that was between
the parting of the ocean, the parting of a dream.

You stood there so warm and still,
in the door of a Dollar Hotel.
With a secret late in the night,
a Forgotten Madonna on the run,
a Forgotten Madonna on the run.

I searched for gold when I was younger,
near the place where angels linger.
Now my life’s flung around a TV dial
stopping where vision is on file,
where a pair of eyes stare in the dark within a dreaming.

You stood there so warm and still,
in the door of a Dollar Hotel.
With a secret late in the night,
a Forgotten Madonna on the run,
a Forgotten Madonna on the run.

Civilized days drape over the window pane
of those who live with the Flood,
who scorch their eyes in all night cinemas
obsessed with heroes,
who fool around revolving doors
between hell and paradise.

The young sing Armaggedon tunes,
the old dance to satellite news.
The neon light flickers on
a Forgotten Madonna on the run,
a Forgotten Madonna on the run.

stavros


Time Travelling with My Ears

February 9, 2009

 

Rimbaud: “I dreamed of crusades, senseless voyages of discovery, republics without a history, moral revolution, displacement of races and continents: I believed in all the magics.”

 

A few months ago I was stuck like a shipwreck on my bed in my living room. I was stuck there, 24/7 for two months. I was there because of an accidental fall at work. I broke my leg and tore a cartilage in my hand. This means that I wasn’t able to use crutches to get around and when I visited the doctor and the physiotherapist I used a wheel chair. So, my “senseless voyages of discovery” had become mundane wheelies on a chair. I was not down and in fact time seemed to buzz by quicker than ever. Yes, alone on a bed, stuck in one place for two months and all seemed well. Of course, being shipwrecked with a beautiful, caring wife helps a lot. I couldn’t ask for more in a woman who shares my life. Jane is totally giving, loving, warm and has a natural joyousness which lightens my life – even while I was stuck there.

 

So much for my body. Yep, it was immobile but my mind wasn’t. I began doing some amazing time travelling while I was in this space. Time travelling? Let me explain. I was surfing the net and buying music from eBay. I found a seller who offloads very cheaply, CD’s without covers and art work. More often than not they are CD’s of LP’s I already own but because vinyl is so 20th Century and I couldn’t be bothered trying to find a new needle so that I can play them on my turntable, getting “Exile on Main Street ” by the Rolling Stones on CD for 50 cents is fantastic. I bought some music I

haven’t heard for decades which I could listen to.

 

Each time I listened to these songs, reminiscences flowed unchecked – memories, dreams, faces, body entanglements, old acid trips and dope hazed twilights, smiles and tears, hellos and goodbyes…all streamed by as the music played. Each favourite song became a lane, a street, sometimes a highway to the past. I listened and watched the thoughts that arose and watching the thoughts, sometimes I felt. Felt what? It didn’t really matter, a feeling arose, then a smile bent its way across my face or a tear traced its way down my cheek. Old friends appeared and then I wondered, “Where are they now? Are they still alive? Are they happy?” Old lovers appeared and I remembered our embraces and promises we made to each other. My heart broke and then healed with another song. I loved all. I love all.

 

Time travelling with my ears.

 

Below are lyrics of a song I wrote about remembering a long lost lover:

  

Do You Remember?

 

Do you remember the time,
our paths first crossed the line?
Composing phone numbers
on the palms of our hands.
Do you remember the hour,
when we first made the vow?
During reason’s truancy, without sorcery.
The gypsy keeper’s hand of fate
undid the knot of empty space.

 

 A circle and a sphere can’t trace
the shape of a falling tear.
The comfort and the fear can’t chase
the cape of another year.
Do you remember?

 

Do you remember the moment
rumour’s arrow pierced your intent?
Through the line between your eyes
a flame kindles your alibis.
It burns through precious flesh and bone,
the memories you wish to disown, by and by.
We sacked the empires of illusion
to save the key to eternal union.

 

 A circle and a sphere can’t trace
the shape of a falling tear.
The comfort and the fear can’t chase
the cape of another year.

 

Do you remember . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . me?

 

stavros