Here findeth an exemplary performance of the preachings of Darwathustra
Here findeth blossoms of exhaltation and rage to incite the soul (music videos and songs from our album "Keystone")
Here findeth singalong versions of 4 uplifting songs, balm for the existential aches of the post-modern world
Here findeth the new album "Keystone"
And ever prescient about our next album: From out of the desert the wanderer's songs could be heard. Dirges for our unappreciated excesses gave way to hymns of sociobiological reverence and transformational praise. Here findeth a young person's introduction to the further teachings of Darwathustra:
Pity the Afterworldly
do you cast your fancy beyond man
smoke and mirrors do you understand
this world to be all suffereing
to be offset at this world's end
think you'll find your reward in the next world
that's the solace of imbeciles and those that can't dance
thats why i pity the afterworldly
their consolation looks hollow to my eyes
join me in my pity for the afterworldly
and your soul will truly rise
do you think you're bein watched by an angry ghost
whose stokin the fires in which your soul will roast
instead burn past offenses and don't forget
smoke and ashes will never hold you back
take your regrets and all slights to the mountaintop
and burn them in a fire all your own
then you will pity the afterworldly
their chants will ring hollow in your ears
join me in my pity for the afterworldly
and trade away your mortal fears, trade away your childhood fears
do other peoples grinning make you grind your teeth
id rather you be sinning for your own relief
stop watching other's dancing turn your critic in
cause living through your neighbor's the original sin
think your savior needs your help fighting the wicked?
then you forget the son is a fiery star
thats why i pity the afterworldly
their "shalt nots" they make me pinch my nose
join me in my pity for the afterworldly
and the living spirit flows
honest and pure speaks the healthy body
red and erect against the pull of earth
stark contrast to the solace of the afterworldly
trading faith in death for birth
you'll find more truth in the earth and body
the here and now is pregnant with their gifts
your dancing body shows compassion to the afterworldly
for every time it falls it lifts
and rises to my kiss
Flies in the Marketplace
Where your solitude ends there the market begins
the noise of great actors and poisonous flies
where greatness is flattened to powerpoint slides
and solemn announcers auction of effects on the side
flies in the market place
i wanna be like gasoline to your self-immolation lust
i wanna coax lordotic moves with every sanguinary thrust
your moxie smacks of pure rejection
two-dimensional ars projection
desire caged by self-reflection
flies in the marketplace
these great presenters
in a hall of shallow fountains
while true inventors are climbing mountains
against the wishes of pale lamenters
defenestrators
of consequential rathers
of cheerleaders and their lathers
concealing the true creators
flies in the marketplace
i wanna be like gasoline to you self-immolation drive
smother you with longing looks until the thought of me is all that survives
the market's filled with solemn jesters
and they demand their yes-no gestures
are there no longer deep-water testers?
flies in the marketplace
Suffer the Passions
may your virtue be too exalted
for the familiarity of names
and let it be something you share with no one
speak reluctantly but without shame
you called your passion evil
but your virtues sprang from this earth
and whether red black blue or yellow
your angels dont come from a virgin birth
fanatic or vindicative
testy or voluptuous
all passions turn to virtues
as devils turn to us
if you give a name to your virtue
then you share it with a hungry herd
and you'll turn into a heart collector
sharing virtues that are only words
fanatic or vindicative
testy or voluptuous
all passions turn to virtues
as devils turn to us
beware the war of many virtues
for every virtue wants the highest place
they battle one another for you favor
and die of jealousy and open space
Still You Rise
where do you begin
is it at the skin
or is it in the reach
of your familiar's ken
extended and extensive
intending and intensive
you choose to rise above
you choose a lonely love
you go above an beyond them
but the higher you rise
the smaller you become
in envy's eyes
and the one they hate the most
is the one who flies
but still you rise
fogotten friends are calling
shed them like a skin
all life is at the surface
a wooden heart within
florescence at the margins
the edge of chaos rules
all your conservative postions
just the reverie of fools
Money Grows on Trees
Money grows on trees exactky as you please
all you got to do is export suffereing overseaes
money grows on trees like the tickle tween your knees
growing onlike the ivy on the board of your trustees
money grows on trees like the kudzus southern ease
growing like a virus a venereal disease
money grows on trees while the third world children freeze
goodthing we got wifi and those wallstreet guarantees
money grows on trees ce kill in java and belize
making room for hamburger and liberal arts degrees
money grows on trees turning grey in autumn's breeze
some day soon the substrate will expire as we wheeze
money grows on trees
Ethical Imperative for the Year Zero
you're living a tempest
but teapot in size
your space-opera ranting
a clever disguise
for the genius that's hiding
who might well just have died
since the world that you wish for
was always inside
if I told you you'd live this
over and over
would you be glad or cry on my shoulder
would you suck lead or would you grow bolder
are you a fire or do you just smolder
if a demon appeared to you
at the foot of your bed
and threw down this gauntlet
what might you do instead
how could you change things
or might you just rejoice
this then is your problem
an everyday choice
if I told you you'd live this
over and over
would you be sad and cry on my shoulder
or would you rejoice and might you grow bolder
are you a fire or do you just smolder
Ostram's Angels
White shirt in a back room somewhere
making small decisions
a butterfly stirs the air
white shirt addsa pittance to the pile
but things accumulate
and soon winter's out of style
when ostrom's angels come to call
i'll be the first to clap my hands
until then lets arrest the fall
by arresting white shirt clans
red tie smiles through the lie
one hand on the bible the other brushes away the butterfly
red tie buying cheap and selling dear
the progress of our politics is only moved by fear
The Wondertwins
how long the sleepy planets
can spiral without collapsing
how long the wondertwins
can waltz to the wrong conclusion
how many unanswered questions
can you roll in your mouth like hard candy
on the wall it used to say
"look if you like you cannot escape the leap"
the wondertwins take many forms
of prairie voles in ice-cube storms
ahundred boy-girl metaphors
this the liaison that can save the world
the planets move without a soundtrack
like the bustling shoulders downtown
there is a force that repels at small distances
lubricates the sidewalks and their dialogues
like recent expeditions
that have lost their way in dance clubs
and experiments with falling
that have left me gravity shy
Bloodwriting
Whoever writes in blood
Whoever speaks in aphorisms
Doesn't merely want to be read
They wanna be learnt by heart
Whoever blogs in platitudes
Whoever shuns contrary attitudes
Writes in water, writers in mist
This web of shallow souls is waiting for a fist
Reading and writing
Should be like thunder and lightening
A sign of great forces
High mountains and deep river courses
Reading and writing
Should summon budding and blighting
A dancing of Goddesses
A laughing , a breaking of promises
we love life
because we are good at loving
not because we are good at living
that's the reason for writing and reading
It is no easy task
To understand strange blood
Idle readers pass them by
Hate the ancient pools in which they lie
Can you even call them literate?
Reading in circles they consume the words they spew
Mundane opinions volleyed back and forth by fools
They're just stones skipping 'cross the surface of deep pools
Reading and writing
Should be like thunder and lightening
A sign of great forces
High mountains and deep river courses
Reading and writing
Should summon budding and blighting
A laughing of deities
A dancing , a speaking of heresies
we love life
because we are good at loving
not because we are good at living
that's the reason for writing and reading
The Law of Effect
despisers of the body hear me speak these words
the soul is fully carnal a shepherdess of herds
the spirit is a minor wisdom the senses are a battlefield
emergence self-explanatory no deeper truths revealed
The self says SUFFER and the body seeks escape
and that's the reason for your reason
the self says DELIGHT and the body seeks return
and that is the meaning of your meaning
despisers of the body here me sing these lines
the senses and the spirit hang at the end of vines
vainly see themselves as ends but the body holds the greater sages
distributed in minor wisdoms against false souls it rages
The self says SUFFER and the body seeks escape
and that's the reason you were MEANT to think.
the self says DELIGHT and the body seeks return
and that's the reason you were MEANT to think.
despisers of the body what fills the wells of your contempt?
is it the fruiting ground that underlies these very valuing attempts?
The creating Self created for itself esteeming and despising,
sense and spirit, worth and will and a demon's host advising
The self says SUFFER and the body seeks escape
is this all there is to your meaning
the self says DELIGHT and the body seeks return
is this all there is to your meaning
angry with life and with the earth created worlds and those they tempt
suggest unconscious envy is in the sidelong look of your contempt.
despisers of the body hearken to this cant
when the creative part is squandered the opium screens of tomorrow chant
not saying that the spirits fiction not saying that the senses lie
just that your emergencies are self-explanatory lesson for a self that wants to die
The Red Judge
there's a red judge calling out names
no patience for scholarly games
he sees with a blade in his eyes
ears covered to stifle the cries
there's a red judge coming for blood
heart is full of the sins of that the flood
should a cleared with the unicorns
halfway hearts of the halfway borns
you can call me your enemy, but don't call me a villain
you can say that i'm sick (head if not body), but don't call me a wretch
you can call me the prince of fools, just don't call me a sinner
this is the judgment i'll accept from you, so whispered the pale criminal
red judge don't know my pleasure or pain
judgement locked in an antique refrain
but am i even equal to this
conscious slashes while it gives a kiss
you can call me your enemy, but don't call me a villain
you can say that i'm sick (head if not body), but don't call me a wretch
you can call me the prince of fools, just don't call me a sinner
this is the judgment i'll accept from you, so whispered the pale criminal
red judge you might understand
what makes the shakes in this pale hand
same thoughts you hide in your robe
mine are the judgements make values explode
Reactive
are you more than just a sum of these reactions
i hear something in your cries, something that's still actives
in your eyes
you still give rise
to small acts of creation
uncle fritz, he scratched an itch, that's a reaction
but the sources of that itch, where active styles switch
once formed the grist
for monkeys in the mist
to fashion our creation
active and reactive
two forces wax attractive
one builds better days
spite oceans washing them away
the tide rolls in….
you want the secret to living a life that's not reactive
its through the rituals we choose, the bodies that we bruise
so that they're stronger
and our days are longer
and full of small creation
you want the secret to a life that fully active
its a struggle every day, no one showing you the way
but you'll meet others
traveler and lovers
of the small acts of creation
