The Beatles circa 1960.

 DAY IN THE KNIFE

Wow, what with youths, nudes & cradle-vice
We must live upstairs
Wow, what with veins, dudes & candle-Christs
We must live in hairs
& we make up sin from skinny heirs
& we see a summer of lice
Dreaming of a vaginal sea-height
^& the lords of green Hell
Hang loud tocsins from a funeral bell?
The god of chilled winter summons
Ivy-bines & radio sirens
& the cods of quickened diamond
Daub a dragger with alarms
& the screens of saviours harden
& the wolves of windows
Shadow feral taxicabs
.
Ambulant idols pray where sin
Casts a crab upon
A tree of murder; O, as the sun
Streams from deadened guns
Then mandarin currencies strum
Washy city guitars,
& we smoked all ruddy year
& we choked on a bald tear
La
We must live in hollows &
We must hear sex break?
..
I stood against god’s jeep
O, I lathered after gem-sleep
& the countries of my mind’s heap
Combed a busman’s leer
..
The wives of woollen dew had
Impassable rings
- The widows of old stings
Cut a hairnet from Hero’s dad
A time bomb had
A city’s flag; & old sleep
Sent us to dreams of
Islands & cabs
& the wives of the dew saw wheat
Crying, crying,
Oh!?
The first fruited face we had
Dappled under Dali
O the fierceness of space
Cut us
& we fell into the moon
& the sandmen of the mad
Rode us unto Sunday
& the doctors of our tune
Rode a dilly space
Tut-tut-tut-tut…
I espy a cold tent
O I sleep out in a star
I espy a soft mint – ah, as my car
Carries donuts West
Then diaries will teach the poor
& dairies in a hill
Must read our wills-& starred scent
Leads us to blue water…
The side of a mill has eyes
O the birds in a frill
keep sties
& when once mistress Aladdin
Drops a can in the rain
Then we supper after Paladin
& whispering skeins
Play pool with dollies
& a world at one out-grabs
Daughters of teenaged brollies
Factories harvest old women.
Nunneries arrest rolled children
& odes to god’s navel
Dig steps with bestial eye-cradles.
The wags of stairs are filled
&, la, the rags of prayers
Are wrapped in sylvan snares
& we swore for men
& we fed heels to hens; & moon heirs
Chauffeur Monks unto
A green space where May’s shoe
Hobbles against pierced blued
Bodied stasis
& a junky in a bed uses a metal bin
& the pigs of aces
Grunt for spunk!!!!
Get off your horse &
Drink your milks
Get off for the force
& drink hot silks?
-
Millers weep for fire when spun wind
Swirls, swirls
Get off your horse &
Drink your stilts
Get off- Lo- cum let reflection
Dazzle prunes with sand
Lo hear now a cocking horse
Swelled up by the juices of the city
Oo give a good hand
To the gal on the piano
Ohh.
Let wisdom suck yon island?!!!
.
A wizardry of widows weds the body
& the body bountiful listens to diddy
& a mean green mummy body
Drives a sitar
Under churches, where ova under tar
Sink fish beneath
Stinking crocus cigars
Aqueous beauty paces
O old viscous ladies peer from laces
& blind blondies
Brag for mirrors…
We awoke with a mean start
Then fell into the rain
& the rest sucks a jam tart.
Uh ho ah ho ha
Uh ho ah ha ha......

AMEN!..

.

copyright jdb 2019

 .

CRAZY IS THE HARVEST MOON  
      Ask my lady what she really wants to be; she says, Baby, can't you see:
      I've never lived, all I did was try to die: so I say, Lady, needs must the
      will to cry.
  Crazy is the harvest moon, crazy is the harvest tree, crazy
      is the harvest moon, crazy is the casuistry...
    Ask my father what he
      tried to do; he says, Son, I did my best for you: I never lived long, all
      I did was pine away: so I say, Father, needs must the will to pray.
     Crazy
      is the harvest moon, crazy is the harvest tree, crazy is the harvest moon,
      crazy is the casuistry
     Ask mad Tarsus just why he chose to change; he
      says, Man, best I did was to derange: I never cared much, just chose to
      lose my head: so I say, Tarsus, needs must the idle dead.
       Crazy is the
      harvest moon, crazy is the harvest tree, crazy is the harvest moon, crazy
      is the casuistry
     Ask the Lord why he went direct away: He says, Man,
      the best I did was to betray: I saw the stars fall, but never thought to
      trust: I say, Jesus, best you find the route to lust.
     Crazy is the harvest
      moon, crazy is the harvest tree, crazy is the harvest moon, crazy is the
      casuistry
    Ask me now just where this life will lead: I say, Woman,
      best contest this devil seed: best destroy me before my light burns out:
      best try to break my brain than live in endless pout.
     Crazy is the harvest
      moon, crazy is the harvest tree, crazy is the harvest moon, crazy is the
      harvest factory...

copyright jedb 1999.

SIMON ROLO 
      Simon Rolo, Marco Polo: he's got trumpets going solo: has a pair of
      dolphin boots, a walrus lantern & a suit.
    In the summer of his eyes, Simon
      Rolo's bright disguise parades in seashore rhapsodies, spastic rifles &
      high trees. Marco Polo, Simon Rolo: he's got doctors in a folio: has a
      grasp on magic science; a starry beard on skin defiant.
         As his history
      rocks & rakes, Simon Rolo finds the brakes: driving, driving all day long,
      Simon Rolo sings a song.
      Simon Rolo, Marco Polo: he's got dates with
      Tolkein's Frodo: buys a ticket for a ride, shines his shoes & shines his
      eyes.
     As he swims in Autumn seas, Simon Rolo's senses heave: gliding,
      gliding all night long, Simon Rolo bears a son.
      Marco Polo, Simon Rolo:
      master-mistress to time's solo: got a wallet in his ears, has a bike with
      ninety gears. In the sermons of the skies, Simon Rolo waves goodbye, & as
      music here abounds, Rolo's world slips underground?

copyright jedb 1997.

BUDDHA CAT.

            Yellow mellow custard colonel, mellow yellow bustard dog, purple strangers
      spy on mangers, mellow masons yield red hods: in the singlet, under
      hammer, beneath the gauntlet of a gun, mellow yellow is the fellow to the
      spermazotic sun. Here is the Buddha Cat: a Buddha Cat has fifty lives:
      here is the Buddha Cat: a Buddha Cat lives in a hive. Mellow is the yellow
      halo, yellow is the bell of praise: under thunder, snapt from tundra,
      mellow metal flumes the blaze: purple rangers spy on strangers, mellow
      myrtle is the sky: under thunder, snapt from tundra, darkness spumes &
      fusion dies. Here is the Buddha Cat: a Buddha Cat has fifty lives: here is
      the Buddha Cat: a Buddha Cat lives in a hive. Yellow come the eyes of
      empty, empty strikes the dollar que: deep in signal skeins of plenty,
      mellow metal summons dew: in the anvilnooks of madness, down from
      graveward skies, all love, like some manna man of sadness, scatters seed
      on heaven's rug. Here is the Buddha Cat: a Buddha Cat has fifty lives:
      here is the Buddha Cat: a Buddha Cat lives in a hive: here is the Buddha
      Cat; a Buddha Cat is Jesus Christ: here is the Buddha Cat; a Buddha Cat is
      Jesus Christ.

      Word of dementia; heard it on the underground: web world, Uh, dr dedly?

Copyright JDB 1998.

...         MEADOW BABY LOGIC

       Meadow baby logic, madam hypnogogic: baby, lady, Sexy Sadie's rocket; for
      these bad fruits, I rail & sail into a century of masochistic sockets; &
      then the shogun berry rolls, rocks & rolls adown my pickled chin, & meadow
      baby is Sexy Sadie & Sexy Sadie sires me a meadow wind, & meadow is mellow
      & meadow is yellow & meadow baby logic is a chinless halo, & meadow baby
      is Sexy Sadie & Sexy Sadie is meadow baby king. 

        Meadow baby logic, madam hypnogogic: baby, lady, Sexy Sadie's rocket;
      gorillas going sonic are the sermons in a bonnet, & meadow baby,
      crabber-locker lady, is pornographic sonnet to the sea, & pornographic
      sonnet is a rocket going sonic & rocket going sonic is a mad oak tree, &
      Sexy Sadie is crabber-locker lady & crabber-locker lady is meadow baby
      spring & crabber-locker springtime spreads its wings.

         Meadow baby logic, pornographic sonnet: baby, lady, crabber-lock laconic;
      if I take me to a dance, shall the crabber-lockers rave; if I take me all
      a prance, shall a crabber lock my grave? & if Sexy Sadie ain't meadow
      baby, might the crabber-locker lady cry? & if meadow baby ain't Sexy
      Sadie, might the crabber-lockers reach the sky? & if meadow baby ain't a
      crabber-locker lady, where the hell might Sadie fly?

         Meadow baby logic, crabber-lock bubonic: sonic, sonnet, proof-reading in a
      bonnet: Sexy Sadie, crabber-locker baby, sonic, sonnet, crabber-locker
      tonic: if the meadow flies, shall the meadow maidens rise, or shall meadow
      mellow eyes come tumbling from the skies? For a meadow is mellow & mellow
      is halo & halo is as mellow as a yellow blade of grass, & meadow is halo &
      meadow baby yellow is Sex Shakespearo & Shakespearo under glass is meadow
      baby logic, is the hypnogogic vast...

...........Copyright JDB 1998.

...

  DO WHAT'S DONE TO MAN
      do what's done to u; do what's done to man. the world inside its widow
      mind is proof of heaven's sham. as much as love is endless, this earth
      must strike the Sun. do what's done to u; do what's bound to come. do
      what's done to u; do what's done to man. shend the chains of living, shend
      away the Lamb. chimeras up in windows are worth far less than love. do
      what's done to u; do what's bound above. do what's done to u; do what's
      done to man. truth is death is trendless, truth is, death is strand. the
      sloane-boys under water are wrought in summer vice. do what's done to u;
      do what's done to christ. do what's done to u; do what's done to man.
      underwave, overwave; doesn't matter, all is damned. chimeras up in windows
      are worth far less than proof. do what's done to u; do what's done to
      truth. do what's done to u; do what's done to man. greet the void, reap
      shameless - never try to understand. chimeras up in windows hold sickles
      to god's throat. do what's done to u; do what sinks the boat. do what's
      done to u; do what's done to man. do what's done to u - never try to
      understand.

      WINDING FRONT-DOOR
      i'm standing outside your front-door - i've seen that front-door once
      before, when i was five or maybe ten; when i was looking for a friend.
      please don't burn me with your flame; this old front-door is old as pain &
      invites me to give again, to meet my mother in the rain. winding
      front-door carry me, carry me where i should be, carry me to time's
      concourse, to times when love was sure as gorse. standing madly in the
      lane, i see such children in my brain; i see them dance & fade away; i see
      such kingdoms in delay. please don't burn me with your flame; this old
      front-door is warm as pain, & invites me to give again; to find new
      shelter in death's vein. winding front-door, carry me, carry me where i
      should be, carry me to time's concourse, to times when love was sure as
      gorse. i'm standing outside your front-door; the cold comes through me
      like before, & i am waiting for your love, for those who live in domes
      above. please don't burn me with your flame; this old front-door is warm
      as pain, & invites me to give again, to find dead brothers in light's
      skein. winding front-door, carry me, carry me where i should be, carry me
      to time's concourse, to times when love was endless force.

      VOCAL BLOOD
      standing on a hill with his head in a cloud, the man in the shroud moves
      outside the crowd, and nobody asks him if he's modest or proud. the man in
      the shroud, the man in the shroud. roundabout the world, this turin child
      makes sound, and he makes sounds on empty and he makes sound resound, and
      nobody cares to question as his vocal blood sings loud. the man in the
      shroud, the man in the shroud. and he never cares to question as his
      shrouded ways decry, and he doesn't care to question how his soul lives in
      the sky, and nobody thinks to wonder why his metalled mortal wrath lies
      riven in the centre of a mettled turin cloth. the man in the shroud. the
      man in the shroud, the man in the shroud. the man in the shroud. 

      leoni, leoni; i've just met a girl full of macaroni. leoni, leoni; i've
      just met a girl full of macaroni. on pasta heels, leoni's world regales
      the trees in search for pearls; regales the sun in search for ships;
      regales the come in search for crypts. leoni, leoni; i've just met a girl
      full of macaroni. leoni, leoni; i've just met a girl full of pasta pony.
      leoni baby, leoni blue, roman empires fellow you. leoni baby, leoni child,
      roman empires seal your smile, & where the papist thrones refrain into
      roman, caesared veins, down comes time and down goes you, ms. leoni
      macaroni blue. leoni, leoni,. i've just met a girl full of macaroni.
      leoni, leoni. i've just met a girl full of pasta pony. leoni, leoni, leoni
      macaroni. goog-goog-a-choo. leoni full of pony.

      if i could stop the time, then there would be a way to join the faceless

      child in fields of yesterday, and there would be such dreams for children
      to unfold; dreams of endless burning in meadows manifold. if i could stop
      time, then endless youth i'd see, and every endless season would be a
      gallow tree, and every gallow tree would be a place for breath; a place
      where endless burning would marry my behest. if i could stop time, if only
      time were mine to cease, then everywhere i'd find an eastern lake of
      peace, and peace would drown me kindly and peace would drown me well. if i
      could only stop the time, then youth should thrill and swell. time, i've
      seen u murder the best of mine and me - now is the time to marry to the
      times that cannot see - & i shall see time cease, for time is seldom mine,
      and in that time must cease, my mind shall tow the line, and in that time
      must cease, all love shall cease to shine. if i could stop the time, if i
      could only live, then desecrated madrigals should celebrate to give, and
      time should cease forever, and time should learn to blow a kiss, and time
      should earn its pleasure, and know how much a child is missed.        

copyright jedb 1998.

..

BOYTOWN STORY

      if u should sleep about a thousand years; if u should pay a billion pounds
      in bent arrears; if u should carry your jewellry in a bad swag bag, u'll
      be doing the hedonist rag. if u should fly on a plane to distant climes;
      if u should drink from a bottle of vintage wine; if u should dabble in
      diamonds while waving a flag, u'll be doing the hedonist rag. hedonist,
      hedonist, hedonist rag - the less u do, the more u'll have - hedonist,
      hedonist, hedonist rag - the less u prove, the more u'll stab. if u should
      masticate a dinner in scarlet spain; if u should build a cellar in the
      darkest vein; if u triumph over others thru smoking a fag, u'll be doing
      the hedonist rag. if u should heal the rich while decrying the poor; if u
      should deal in wealer-deals without a cause; if u should try your best to
      stamp out the mad, u'll be doing the hedonist rag. hedonist, hedonist,
      hedonist rag - the less u do, the more u'll have. hedonist, hedonist,
      hedonist, hedonist, hedonist - hedonist rag.

      Lady at the crossroads weeping, by your troth, you are in keeping with the
      stars and all their souls - lady at the crossroads, roll. lady at the
      crossing mount, by your troth, you are in count with the dreams that
      sailors have, as they sail on seas of mad. lady, lady, take to me and save
      me; lady, lady, u and i were one; lady, lady, take to me and save me;
      lady, lady, u and i were one. lady at the crossroads weeping, farriers
      shall stave your sleeping, and the heavens up above shall acclaim u in
      your love. lady at the crossing fount, time and tide shall swathe the
      mount, and the tears shall fade away, as the tyranny decays. lady, lady,
      take to me and save me; lady, lady, u and i were one; lady, lady, take to
      me and save me; lady, lady, u and i 

      lal-lee-lal-lal-lah, lal-lee-lal-lal-lah, lal-lee-lal-lal-lah, lal-lahhh.
      in streets of penates malice, i laid down on the way; for privateers in
      palace, pirates sired my grave. weeping in a truckstop, with my guarding
      angel gone, like the ever-turning clock, i never bore a son.
      lal-lee-lal-lal-lah, lal-lee-lal-lal-lah, lal-lee-lal-lal-lah, lal-lahhh.
      on a rillside stands a funster, with ways not human-made - in his heart,
      he is a teamster who sings a serenade. for a walk upon an ocean, this
      funster will give all, but as time implodes in motion, this funster's on
      the fall.
      lal-lee-lal-lah-lah, lal-lee-lal-lal-lah, lal-lee-lal-lal-lah, lal-lahhh.
      my boytown story's over and my mother has gone home. such is the law of
      lovers, that this story moves no stone. for a pocketful of misery, i
      travelled on the sea - as much as rhyme is ended now, this boytown murders
      me.
      lal-lee-lal-lal-lah, lal-lee-lal-lal-lah, lal-lee-lal-lal-lah,
      lie-lie-lee-lie.

...copyright jedb 1998.

The Beatle's genius song Day in the Life is 35 lines long?