Beneath the bricks a wave
Tower block teeth on the horizon
Bite hard into urban dusk.
Vision risen from the concrete,
Distant echoes underfoot.
And the lions leap tonight,
Round Trafalgar's Mithras spear.
Bleeding life into the landscape,
Dogs and serpents fill the streets.
Traced watermarks of currency,
Full-moon.shilling worth more than gold.
Pays the Boatman’s fare, in Empiric time.
When the Styx and stones, would break your bones.
It’s another place to hide, another place to cry.
It’s another place to rise, and another place to die.
Protracted hidden angles,
Set square within wooden henge.
Energised by Beaker ritual,
An ancestral ghostly hand.
While the City sleeps tonight,
In a choking toxic duvet.
Ancient forethought medication,
Is injected once again.
Certain measurement of ethereal flow,
Labyrinthine vortex plasma.
Winds through empty streets, over tarmaced roads
Where the skin and bone, and the pavement meet.
Its another place to hide, another place to cry.
It’s another place to rise, and another place to die.
Hawksmoor’s towers of protection,
Holds old enemies at bay.
But new-born terrors of the night,
Will always find a different way.
Whilst the leaders change their gods,
And the others earn their favour.
Unholy Neverworld of Darkness
Not above is so below.
Geomantic lines in perfect prefect eyes
Beholds a plan of a grand design
Where the spiders web, of shiny tinselled stars
Shows a glowing map, to the city's past
Its another place to hide, another place to cry.
It’s another place to rise, and another place to die.
Can you feel it too?
Hi, It's me. I've just got back into town, where are you?
Is it only me or is the city humming at a slightly lower frequency than usual?
I don't think that it's bad, it's just that it's well more wrong than right.
Have you felt it too? Has anyone else felt it?
The Papers don’t say anything about it, has it only just happened?
I don't really feel any different, but everything’s. changed. How long’s it been like this?
The light’s got that sort of. sleepy quality, like a midsummers dawn but,
even it seems frightened of the corners and the windows are staring across the street at each other in silence.
Have you noticed it too? How long’s it been like this?
It smells like winter, but it’s not even cold day.
Do you think everywhere’s like this? Or is it just here?
All the greys seem greyer somehow, it’s as if they're absorbing the colour by locking it away for their own survival
and the sky, the sky just seems so heavy on the buildings. The birds can sense it.
They're now more frightened of the clouds than they ever were of the people.
They've rolled back evolution to become pedestrians once more, human footsteps no longer hold uncertainty for them.
Even the traffic looks nervous, as it slides slowly between the pavements.
No, the birds can definitely feel it.
Can you feel it too? I can't be the only one.
You remember the old guy outside the Station. He knew it was coming, but it didn't help him. He just shouts even more now.
I tried to ask him what had happened, but he stared straight though me bellowing on about how "Only God can save us now".
Poor bloke. Nobody listened to him before, so why should anybody start now?
Why can nobody else see it?. or maybe they do and just ignore it?
Do you think there are people high in Tower Blocks, too scared to come down in case they’re consumed by it?
When did it all change?
Where are you?
Has it got you to yet?
Can you feel it too?
(Time sigil)
Time gentlemen please, is the war cry of the sober.
Cruel exorcism performed nightly, removing warmth and safety.
Replacing it with cold, in the shadows of the night.
Time is a great healer they say, it takes away the pain,
It taints the naked truth, devouring what was real.
Warping painful memories, transforming them to lies.
A soothing status quo, of refracted brighter endings.
But time always plays the long game, feeds you cookies of hope.
The crumbs slowly getting smaller, forced starvation in the never
Fading, then dieing, in ecclesiastical vacuums.
It overrides the imposed, rhythms of man.
Digital blinking exactness, mechanising natures order
Tethering it to cogs, aping the planets revolution
Slowly killing time, without injuring eternity.
Medieval man believed, the Sun orbited the Earth.
Now many believe, that time progresses clockwise.
Spring back, fall forward, and the planet still revolves.
But throughout this all, the hairless ape struggles to adapt,
To the rate of evolution, he carved out for himself.
Surfing laval seas of tarmac, he dances round the car park.
His tears merge with raindrops, water cycling through man
I look into the buildings, the buildings look into me.
Staring hard into the brickwork, pushing the molecules aside.
Quantum orbits shifting landscapes, obelisk seeds gestate in mortar.
Holding all dreams captive, in a drowsy visioned half-life.
Slowly sapping human vigour, Chronos bleach attack the soul.
Enforced by cruel example, devoid of a redemption.
Grinding procession of the holy endless spinning of the sky.
A misty urban godless form, trapped beneath the stars
In a folded concrete microcosm, of considered architectural restraint
The rules of set and setting, eating words like a mountain.
Seeing oncoming autumn, in each circuit of time,
Building upon each other, dirty entropy’s crime.
A slow inevitable decay, as the year approaches death.
A cacophony of Orange, slowly merging with the brown
The constants always shifting, as consciousness reboots.
The certainty degrades, with each rising of the sun
A warm glow replaces darkness, and settles troubled minds
This isn’t just a dream, nearly everything once happened.
The ripples of occurrence, reflect back upon themselves.
Cancelling the majority, small decisions amplified
A chronology of events, filtered through the psyche’s own projection.
It takes a simple choice, in the mind of the perceiver.
To submit to nature’s will, or transcend and ask the questions.
to investigate the order, to find the inner truth.
To always question why you suffer somethings but tolerate others.
When nothing is unchangeable, the only limits are your fear,
And fear is only held, in the mind of the beholder.
Beholden to the darkness, and imprisoned by the mind
Gutterbright to the starres
I have kissed the summer dawn, from the flats upon the hill.
I have danced in moonlit streams, where swollen gutters meet the drain.
Sat in burning beams of sunset, Salamander skies on fire.
Drowned in concrete deserts, overshadowed by barbed wire.
How I long for you to hold me, to break the spell of modern life.
To scatter dead illusions which transform behind my eyes.
Tornados of desire project across the floor,
Magick moving sigils of macroscopic lore
Then raise my head unto the shimmer, where buildings set themselves for cold.
Compressed angels in the brickwork, nervous quickening of souls.
A drunken insecurity, encroached by evening air.
Broken faces cry around me, holding silent frightened stares.
Falling nightmare ashes, foreclose upon the dusk,
Suffocating daytime remnants, which hang upon the wind.
A gathered veil of history, beholden to the dark.
Overwhelming shadow mystery, punctuated by a spark.
Storm of fire which abides within the mirrored lantern,
reflecting light bulb chaos on degeneration’s doorway.
Shaking raindrop crystals with resounding beams of gold,
Conducting urban vigour to dispel the night-times lies.
The darkness in light
The Elements combine to turn glass back to dust,
A Nature induced form of demon prevention.
Fires do melt and the wind doth crack,
The Sea and earth grind to suppress the danger.
Man was never meant to cross the void between its edges,
Bent spectrum of light devouring the truth,
Taking it all away with false promises of heaven
And skewed perspectives of fate.
Dee and Kelly left these realms for a reason,
Drowning undercurrent dragging them deep into bauble-visioned joy,
Opened up to God, but at the mercy of the voices,
Of defiant devils caught between spaces
Imprisoned spirits in an endless fall,
Who’s cries once were dulled to broken whisper,
Now ring out through towering obelisks of greed,
Infecting those near with their hunger.
In a room full of mirrors the ego is overwhelmed,
Demonic feedback confronts the mind.
Disorientation forces mindscapes to swim,
A deadly ghost thought perversion.
Plasma windows divine a frustration,
Holding those close in it’s glowing spell
Whilst travellers encased in glass on all sides
Channel fear and violent urges
Every pavement beholds a thousand windows
A Whispered a chant of silent orders
Memetic contagion seeping down into the street
A subconscious power manipulation
Whilst infected architects channel, improve and refine
To suppress the human condition
By subverting channelled transmittance of glass
In unholy elemental defiance
Breaking the mirror shatters the illusion
Sweet release from refracted hell
Of sand transformed to remove all the corners
To allow the otherworld to speak.
So destroy all your mirrors and close your curtains
Avoid what you can of the prism
Treat your jam jars and bottles with the caution deserve
And pray for those wearing spectacles
Light from the stars, in alchemical prism
Refracting the soul, cold demonic vision.
Warped vector of light, held in quicksilver,
Fluxed arsenic and sand, fused into mirror.
All Lyrics by S.:
©2010 The Psychogeographical Commission
No comments:
Post a Comment