modern living

[[ the whole thing is silly, a bad action movie script in a song - any part of it could be deleted or mixed and matched elsewhere ]] 

= = = = =

[[ sounds like a health regimen at first (take the stairs) or a home design magazine, but... no, it's how to take a building? what's going on? be vague -- words are pictures, noise ]]

skip the elevator

take the stairway

stay alive
for one more day

keep your head down

blow a mouse hole 

step next door
for rock and roll

door to door

wall to wall

floor to floor

modern living

= = = = =

[[ now we are in "the call is coming from inside the house" territory ]]

we could be underground

we could be on the air

we could be one small sound

we could be on the stair

we could be one old man

we could be in the trees

we could be on the phone

we could be all the bees

= = = = =

[[ escalation - scary guys threatening to do bad stuff  ]]

what if we watch every keystroke you make?

what if we hear every word?

what if we told all your enemies about you?

what if we heard? what if we heard? 

what if your package blew up in your face?

what if your home is on fire?

what if your family vanished forever?

what if we slip through the wire?

= = = = = 

[[ scary guys taunting their watchers ]]

you think you got us all?

we smell your dinner cooking (you need a new cook)

we see your curtain moving (peek-a-boo)

we hear your faucet dripping (I know a good plumber)

we feel the cloth she's wearing (good material)

we lick the lipstick (now we're licking your lips)

you cannot warthog

or predator us gone

now everyone has

a bomb and a drone

you like to watch us?

are you listening?

are we in Pine Gap?

or in Alice Springs?

go out to walk and  

watch the dust

in the evening

move in the evening

move in the evening

= = = = =

[[ scary guys taunting their watchers ]]

sink into the city

building by building

stairwell by stairwell

running down

sink into the city

down to the asphalt

down to the river 

flowing through

[[ contradictory images -- scary guys shot up or controlled by others or walking away or unreal? -- ambiguity is the point ]]

watch a puppet body

shaking on strings

watch a puppet body 

shake and walk away

this is a world 

we must move

to and through 

and from and under

to and through 

and from and under

to and through 

and from and under

to and through 

and from and under

= = = = = 

= = = = = 

look what we've done

look what we've done

we had a plan of attack

lined up our forces

then went out for a snack

look what we've done

we had a world here

put things together

then went out for a beer

we took out a wrench

and put parts together

we took out a wench

and put parts together 

now 

everything is going,

going, going, gone.

everything is going wrong.

now 

everything is nothing

nothing is everything

everything is nothing again.

we had the birds 

in the trees

now we have no birds

now we have no trees

now we have no have

now we have no we

no now no now

looks like we're done

the family myth

in the family myth

we escape winter

we escape water 

we escape the amnesia of the sea

and somehow there's me

in the family myth

we escape desert 

we escape searchers 

we escape the arbitrary decree 

and somehow there's me

all of this must be true

because somehow there's me

and somehow there's you

in the family myth

we escape cages

we escape rages

we escape the rogues of history 

and somehow there's me

in the family myth

we escape post-war

we escape closed door

we escape the Land of the Free

and somehow there's me

all of this must be true

because somehow there's me

and somehow there's you

in the family myth

we know their order to shoot on sight

we cross the border and move by night

and go on

in the family myth

we cross the water of a rolling sea

and all of us, some of us, one of us

must slip free

and go on

in the family myth

we escape exposure 

we escape erasure

we escape the men who hack the family tree
and somehow there's me

all of this must be true

because somehow there's me

and somehow there's you

Imagined Geography 5: Vienna Song

this is Vienna

beneath this dome

under the car park

this is my home

hopping the turnstiles

dodging the landlord

looking for something

hidden here before

under Vienna

city in ruins

city of ghosts

all up in smoke

you take the fast train

nightime from Linz

something seen once

never seen since

not since Vienna

stumps at the VA hospital

[[ previous poem in verse/lyrics form, with two sections ]]

= = = = =

Wait for us here.

in the designated area

Don't make a move

or we may never find you.

Hang on to your balls, boy,

We're going in.

A man with a stump

for a leg wheels in

stump-first down the corridor

stage left.

A woman with more stumps,

fewer limbs, rolls in

propelled by a nurse

stage right.

The two cross in front of me

and pass with no sign

they notice me or anything.

Hang on to your balls, boy,

We're going in.

= = = = =

Now I am running

through all the possibilities

like it's my job to shoot

these action movies

A prehistoric helicopter shot out of the sky

by a man with a cylinder at his ear like he was listening

A slow fat cargo plane with entrance and exit wounds

by three gunners who simply can not believe their luck

A pressure-sensitive mine planted long ago

by a dead man and forgotten until just the other day.

An IED laid yesterday with a telephone trigger

for the man whose only job was to watch and to push

A sniper hidden, still, and unsuspected

'til he fires off one, two, three from a mile away

I can't stop running

through all the possibilities.

I can't stop running

through all the possibilities.

what could happen

I am waiting in a designated waiting area. Do not move, I am told.

So I hold still in a middle of a row of plastic chairs in a corridor with my interlocked hands resting over my crotch.

A man with a stump for a leg wheels stump-first down the corridor from the left. 

Simultaneously, a woman with more stumps and fewer limbs rolls by the other way propelled by a nurse looking for somewhere to leave her. 

By chance, they cross almost exactly in front of me, the chairs with the people with stumps, and pass on with no sign that they notice each other or me. 

Now I'm running through simple possibilities like it's my job to shoot action movies.

A jet fightSURPRISEer shot right out of the sky by a man with a cylinder held to his ear like he was listening for them coming. No, a big fat slow cargo plane shot at and shot at aSURPRISEnd shot right through lots of smoke and three men with artillery who cannot believe their luck. 

A pressure-sensitive mine planted by a dead man, by which of course I mean he has since died, and forgotten, the man and the mine, unSURPRISEtil the other day. Or a mine laid just yesterday with a telephone trigger for the man whose only job was to keep watching keep watching for tSURPRISErucks coming out of the town. 

A sniper half buried in sand and invisible for all practical purpSURPRISEoses witSURPRISEh a riflSURPRISEe designed for such occasions. 

I can't stop running through all the possibilities.

the weight of the soul

[[ Weapons -- bullets, bombs, missiles -- and the technology of violence, the politics and philosophy of violence, the blinking out of life. And there was the famous (?) experiment in which someone claimed to weigh the human soul and came up with 21 grams. ]] 

how fast they move

these pieces of metal

how hard and sharp 

they make themselves known

the projection of power

is airtight, cylindrical, 

streamlined and modular

how small they seem 

these pieces of certainty

how they disintegrate

all understanding 

the end of it all 

has just crossed the border

and gone underground

how fast they die 

the cells of memory

how the mind blinks out

second by second

the weight of the soul

is the difference between

the body before and after

how small we seem

with no more certainty

how we disintegrate

past understanding

the end of it all 

has just crossed the border

and gone underground

the weight of the soul

is the difference between

the body before and after

we die surrounded,

surrounding, before and after,

feel the weight of the soul

lapis lazuli

Do you remember

the twenty-first century?

When everyone splendid

would bathe in the nude

in a pool in the wood?

When everyone splendid

was splendidly good?

Do you remember

the twenty-first century?

When everyone's friend

siphoned gasoline nights

just to set it alight?

When everyone's friend

was so right?

Where are we now?

All of our years 

whirled away?

We have washed our hands clean

with a little gasoline 

and some noise

We have made our big play

only traded away

a few boys

We have sung the Afghanistan blues now in every saloon 

this side of the moon

in the nineteenth century

in the twentieth century

in the twenty-first century

in every saloon 

this side of the moon

we have sung the Afghanistan blues

Do you remember

the twenty-first century?

When everyone struggled

to nurture a bruise

to be shown on the news?

When everyone struggled

to cover the ruse?

Do you remember

the twenty-first century?

When the world was run

by a troop of baboons

under two rising moons?

When the world ended

one afternoon?

Where are we now?

All of our years 

whirled away?

We have washed our hands clean

with a little gasoline 

and some noise

We have made our big play

only traded away

a few boys

We have sung the Afghanistan blues now in every saloon 

this side of the moon

in the nineteenth century

in the twentieth century

in the twenty-first century

in every saloon 

this side of the moon

we have sung the Afghanistan blues

VIII

[[let's do it as a song lyric]]

VIII

American fighter pilots 

from the battleship states

flex a muscle for America

flex a muscle for God

pack 'em in tightly 

side by each with Jesus 

flex a muscle for America

flex a muscle for God

pack 'em in tightly 

shoulder to shoulder 

wind 'em up tight

and let 'em go

they shoot off 

spouting voodoo 

looking for the moon

they shoot a hole 

through the pure blue

inject themselves into space 

up where no up is, 

no down (won't stay down), 

out where no air is, 

no sound (so no sound)

Merry Xmas

according to scripture

according to script

sextant and star chart

slip around behind 

the man in the moon 

flex a muscle for America

flex a muscle for God

aim this can of man meat 

at that blue ornament

flex a muscle for America

flex a muscle for God

enemy in the wire

[[ I meant "enemy in the wire" in the military jargon sense of having an enemy within the perimeter fence (wire), but also to hint at listening in on the wire: electronic eavesdropping or even voyeurism. ]]

now that we all live 

life on the line

now we will all have 

an enemy in the wire 

sniffer in 

my underthings

have a whiff 

of this

enemy in the wire,

listening to me,

my classified admirer

hiss of the, kiss of the, hiss of the snake in my tree

eye to the keyhole

ear to the wall

finger in bunghole

tongue running, tongue running, tongue running over it all

enemy in the wire,

listen to me:

we will always 

be your enemy 

little breather on the phone

little voice behind the drone

you're nothing to the knife

the war

the war you should remember 

is still fought

by people riding large machines

still being fought

the world yet undecided

I could be shot precisely through 

this sentence or this whole city 

could come down quite imprecisely

before I finish this next breath.

They have an app for everything

for instance three of them 

competing for a contract

are made to boil the blood 

within your heart from afar

and others have evolved 

themselves to show you 

what your uncle long suspected 

and has always maintained

I like the word conspire - 

to breathe together

this is how we will decide it: 

breathing in and out 

in unreal places 

and riding large machinery 

into nothing

now go back to the future
future boy

not in this town

now there's a cross

and a candle in glass,

an ad hoc memorial

where they shot his ass

wrong place to be

wrong place to be

what's it sound like?

a bullet going past?

a bullet going in  --

someone bleeds out fast?

everyone knows 

everyone knows 

we run diagonally 

through empty places 

that all used to be somewhere

we crouch and run 

over empty bridges 

when bullets are in the air

to keep your head, 

you keep it down

there's no one special 

in this town

no one special 

above the ground

not in this town

[[ guns in any city with too many guns, but maybe Sarajevo in particular. ']]

the wind blowing through

The wind blowing through
this house is the same wind
east wind, east wind,
always blowing through.

The walls holding up
this house are the same
but it's been through some times
and the names have all changed

And the wind blowing through
this house is the same wind
east wind, east wind,
always blowing through.

The glass in these windows
has been in the street
shards in the garden
still under our feet

And the wind blowing through
this house is the same wind
east wind, east wind,
always blowing through.

hot war
cold war
you hear the drumming
hot war
cold war
a different war coming

Drone Pilot Blues

Woke up this morning

To the sound of a slamming door

My baby had left me

To fight another war

Wearing sneakers and jeans

Has a couple of screens

full of chat

She's the last earthly noise

in the ears of the boys

chewing khat

Woke up this evening

To the sound of her coming home

My baby's the captain

Of a killer drone.

When I ask how her day went

She has nothing to tell

When I ask what it's like

She just says, "Go to hell,

Go to hell."

Said "I might have shot a bad guy

Anyway, I called the shot."

Said "He might have done some bad things.

Or maybe not.

Maybe not."

Woke up this morning

To the sound of a slamming door

My baby had left me

To fight another war

Woke up this morning

Woke up this morning

Woke up this morning

[[ A song about the remote pilots, the remote trigger men and women who put someone in the crosshairs on their screen -- based on spy reports and on what they can see from the air -- and then fire on command. The uncertainty, the stress, the weird distance from the results. Commuting off to war in an office building and commuting home again at night. ]]

Whose war was she in?

[[ From a memory of when I was very young in the 1960s and my mother had brought me with her into a social club. A drunken woman approached us to see this pale little boy. She said she liked my name and repeated it back to me in a low, drawn-out voice several times. Her face was scarred, seamed, pieced, I don't know from what. In those days, she could have been through either world war or through a windscreen made from the opposite of safety glass. ]]


Who is this tumbler reeling
towards us in the club?
I must be five and she a thousand.
I must be terrified and frozen.

Save me, ma, from
the fates at night.

Save me, ma, from
the bombs that fall.

Save me, ma, from
the patchwork face.

Save me, save us all,
ma, from us all.

Who is this woman with
a glass of something golden,
an orange cigarette smolder,
a face pieced back together
along the seams?

Save me, ma, from
the fates at night.

Save me, ma, from
the bombs that fall.

Save me, ma, from
the patchwork face.

Save me, save us all,
ma, from us all.

Whose war was she
in? Whose war?
Whose war was she?
No one left to ask.

pressing refresh

weather so nice, 

but I am at midnight 

pressing refresh

how I wait for

the end of the world

hovering over F5

feather bed soft, 

but I am at midnight 

pressing refresh

woman says come

but I am at midnight 

pressing refresh

[[ 

"I am at midnight" -- literally at midnight but also the Doomsday Clock (real or something personal?)

"how I wait for" -- literally how, but also hints at, perversely, "how I long for"

Anyway, there it is.

]]

Gone to Ontario

[[ Two brothers on opposite sides of the American civil war head up to a remote part of Canada for the duration. ]]

I would not raise a gun to my brother 

for the whole of the damned USA

so we're both heading up to Ontario

and keep each other out of harm's way

We will walk across the river at Niagara

where they've slung up the new suspension bridge

we'll ride out on the Great Western Railway

into the wilderness.

Maybe we'll live side by side with the Ojibwe.

Maybe we'll live on our own

Maybe we'll live on a boat on the bay

But I promise we'll live, 

and when the war ends, 

I promise we'll live and come home.

We could marry some girls of the wilderness

We could send off for brides in the mail

We could settle in the middle of nothing 

Or open an inn on the trail

Met a man said a place they call Lion's Head

Is half way between Equator and Pole
I think that's where we'll climb the escarpment
And watch the stars roll

Snakehips vs the Nazis

Verse 1:
It was nineteen forty one

We lived under an English sun

And our aeroplanes roared through the blue sky over our land
When the London sun went down

The Smart Set went to town

We were safe in a basement where Snakehips led the band.

Chorus:
We were only you and me
At the Cafe de Paris.
It was oh, Johnny, oh,
Then a flash of light.
It was Snakehips vs the Nazis,
Snakehips in the Blitz,
Snakehips, king of the night,
of the brilliant night.

Verse 2:

There was music in the air,

When the bombs came down the stair

And we only lived to tell through the purest chance

People died without a trace

Of the violence on their face

Sitting up in their chairs as if they still waited to dance

Coda:
They found Snakehips lying still
With a flower in his lapel

[[ Ken "Snakehips" Johnson (10 September 1914 – 8 March 1941)   Some versions of this story say Snakehips lost his head, but other versions say otherwise. ]]

a child of all things

See this picture?

My friend was born here

here in this place

here in the photo

of a woman who is running for her life

from a child of all things.

See this map?

They've changed the name

name of the city

name of the nation

but the killing? that never changes -

it's a thing summer brings.

|| :  It's never finished -- 

the things they did here --

they are never done. : ||

Listen at the window,

listen at the door --

voices of people

who lived here before:

our houses are stolen,

our temples are burned,

every stone in our burial

ground overturned

or  ||: stolen away, every stone, every stone : ||

But this is the book of life -

If you're in the book of life -

You're safe in the book of life.

Between you and me

we've [weave] a secret to keep

between here and there

there's a spark in the gap

we keep the secret

we talk the tongue

we still are still


[[ this one started with a picture from WWII of a Jewish woman running for her life from a mob, including a little kid. ]]

How far apart

Did you see that flash?

Was it just the lightning?

Or are the bombs

coming down again?

Did you hear that sound?

Was it only thunder?

Or are the guns 

coming round again?

Can you count the seconds

between the flash and the thunder?

And wonder

how far away?

And wonder

what comes today?

How far apart are

the flash and the thunder? 

How far apart are

the flesh and the wonder? [[ the body and the mind, the base instincts and the higher instincts and reasoning ]]