“A Folk Set Apart: Rarities, B-Sides & Space Junk, ETC.”

I Cannot Lie

I fancied myself a poet today
and lo! I took a yard
I’m always seeing AMBULANCE backwards
and for that I pedal New York City
I ate raisins in Columbus Circle
I thought about the military
oh, I cannot lie

Upon moving the chain caught my pant leg
I know, I know, I can be a bit ruddy
thoughts were infinite, varied repeating
I think I was almost happy
no sex, my wounds were opened
blood in shit in vast whale gut drumming
oh, I cannot lie

Through public library hallways a memory amused me
once, I slipped on a banana peel
lord’s honest truth, Jolie was there
how marvelous, self-amusement
then later, by the water
tired, I reflected upon the splendid day just had
oh, I cannot lie

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Tried to peel an olive
It would not give
I hate myself
But I want to live
I got it bad now
And I can’t hide
…at your disposal

You have the right
To remain violent
I haven’t seen my shoes
Since I washed up on this island
I’ll fetch your gold now
This simple mind’s
At your disposal

Don’t you know I can’t get away
I’m here at your disposal
Don’t you know I cannot get away
I’m here at your disposal
It was a monday
No, it was a tuesday
The birds were singing
And I was feeling gay
It was a wednesday
No, it was a thursday
A bird was singing
And I was feeling gay

One family’s loss
Is my gain
The sides of the highways
Are lined with bouquets
That’s devotion now
I feel alright

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My! the justice gingerly put
with what this simple weather
beckoning my heartthrob
for the Great Grey
Isolator, Isolator
Widowmaker, Widowmaker
Oatmeal steaming, lung-oat weaving
meta coughing, virgin/meta oatmeal
a blessing being the woodsy type
as pagans say
Firecracker, Firecracker
My lucky urn, My lucky urn

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We entered the tomb of Queen Nefertari
I had on my white suit
You wore a stolen silk sari
Osiris must have saw how you came to be
When you lied to me
You lied to me
And I to you
I guess we deserve each other
No, damned if I do
The whole of my education
I was just getting reamed
Because you lied to me
I guess it’s my fault
For being so gullible, less taut
Ok, put her there
Let us agree that fair is fair
Ick! what’s this in you palm?
Some kind of balm?

Blow, hydra
Blow, double-edge
Blow, Mata Hari
Blow, singing saved wretch
When you look in the mirror
Tell me, what do you see?
You lied to me

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Minimum Wage

Ends of sun, bending low
As above, so below
Your path is illuminated
“yes, sir; right away, sir”
You say with a benevolent slur
And move closer to a vow of silence
You have no voice
You have no choice
They call you Jack or Page
Working for the minimum wage
Harden your heart, aim to please
Memories are enemies
Bobby’s come back as an angel
Though I can’t fail, I don’t get smug
Lest I become placid or drugged
And wind up promoted
I have no voice
I have no choice
They call me Cass or Knave
Working for the minimum wage

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Poet’s Day

Hot on your own lusty heels
you trampled Elysian Fields
like a false witness conceals

A Poet content with his skill
you held the muse against her will
made mountains out of molehills

Your lust did not stop there
every dream was a nightmare
but, ah- this is how a Poet prepares

Prone to exaggerate
Prone to exaggerate
It’s Poet’s Day

Every laugh, every cry
by exaggerating made you high
you might as well have told a lie

Like the theme of the Mare’s Nest
“excitement over what does not exist”
is how the rest of the day was pissed

Pissing Off Early Today
is English for P.O.E.T.’s Day
and my, does an Englishman exaggerate!

Prone to exaggerate
Prone to exaggerate
It’s Poet’s Day

A feeling of euphoria
intoxicated by your gloria
a resurrected Victorian

Over wine you would compete
with other Poets on Mission St.
who could make words taste most sweet

Prone to exaggerate
Prone to exaggerate
It’s Poet’s Day

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An Other

Desire for A.N. Other and desire for Desire
Anonymity in the big O, body lifeless, soul on fire
Anne Other

Anne’s bedroom on Lucky Alley is like a hotbox shed
A functioning water faucet hangs over her queen-sized bed
Anne Other

John Doe wonders who she’s talking to, to get her OC
The Devil or her “Free”, absent love? As if Love could be free!
Anne Other

Mary Major or Anne Other, they are one and the same
Desire howling anonymously when she came
Anne Other

When Anne came from Sacramento, John Doe saw her first
But John had his own axe to grind: he’s always dying of thirst
Anne Other

Separate from Love, Desire is non-Being
Through his Love, hate and jealousy, John obsessed over who Anne was seeing
Anne Other

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Bradley Manning

When Bradley moved back from western Wales
His Okie accent still wouldn’t fail
Sleeping in his pickup truck, his Soul wouldn’t calm
He wrote to his mother, “I’m nobody now, Mom”

It’s hard to imagine why bullies dig
But Bradley understood it came with the gig
He wanted an education with all his will
So he walked in and signed up to get that GI bill

“I want…”

Today, those who got up in Bradley’s face
Wish to remain anonymous, in their disgrace
They spread rumors around that he wet himself scared
Even if that’s true, you know I don’t really care

“Recycled” from Iraq and stationed at Fort Drum
His boyfriend introduced him to Triskelion
He met the hacktivists at MIT
“Randomly hung out with some pikans”; “At last, people like me”

“I want…”

Deployed to Base Hammer, near Iran
Built from freight containers and sheer boredom
The bullies on the base went in for the kill
They said, “We got a saying here: Shit rolls downhill”

On leave in Boston, but his boyfriend had flown
Bradley wrote him on Facebook: “I have no real home”
And before the Builds launch party, he went on to vent:
“Bradley Manning is not a piece of equipment”

“I want…”

While passwords are written on sticky notes
And stuck to laptop screens, Bradley explodes
Found in a storeroom stabbing a chair
Bradley carved, “I want…” with a passion that’s all-too rare

Now he’s due to be court-martialed this December
To prove bullying is better than a wild temper
Now, when we say “I want”, we invoke his chair
Bradley, know you have friends, though you’re locked in there

“I want…”

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Since I saddled your Azteca horse
A promise is a promise ’til divorce
You know you’ve always been good for a laugh
Separating the wheat from the chaff

Evangeline, you’re a folk set apart
Passion’s smoke rising from your black Art
Where others have a mind for defense
She incinerate rabbit-proof fence

Mercy, Evangeline
I’m coming clean
She’s down-to-Earth, hovering
And mercy, bring

Soda straws and razorblades
SF ritual trade
Recycled aluminum foil I gleaned
Spoon routine
Lucky thirteen

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Empty Promises

Like any force of nature
you cannot be controlled
the SPIRIT disappears
before you grab a hold
say it again
I like the sound of that
whispers, nothings
another new toy for the brat
sweet honey
tell me where you stand
empty promises
to you from Pan

Like any force of nature
you cannot be denied
how much SPIRIT
has industry supplied?
over five hundred years
since the bitch arrived
and we still cannot find
a decent place to hide
play the song on through
the broken string
empty promises
of hope and things

Like any force of nature
you are dangerous
what mortal cannot
lose its SPIRIT, thus?
smother our
mother’s generation
whose idleness and vanity
destroyed our glorious nation
punk was not severe enough
for empty promises
forcefed in youth to us

This song is short, mean, and overplayed
to take it in stride, well, that’s okay
aha, empty promises!

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If You Loved Me Before

If you loved me before, can’t you love me today?
I’ve not changed much, if at all; not much time passed away
Love me now when I need you the most
My heart beats faster, as time slows
If you loved me then, can’t you love now?
If you cannot, was it ever love, anyhow?
True love gives, expecting nothing in return
I realize I have a lot left to learn

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Three Men Sitting On A Hollow Log

Three men sitting on a hollow log
underneath the mead moon
Right Man breathing from a rubber balloon
Middle Man quietly thinks a tune
wandering by, three mangy lap dogs
three men sitting on a hollow log

Three men sitting on a hollow log
waiting for the maglev train
crystal night, not a spot of rain
sparks inside of Left Man’s brain
Right Man biting his lip, agog
three men sitting on a hollow log

Three men sitting on a hollow log
each, each other’s companion boon
to Middle, the stars around him cocoon
last train to transfer stop arriving soon
headed north out of the old peat bog
three men sitting on a hollow log

Three men sitting on a hollow log
you could catch the wind coming off the plain
Left tries his Zippo’s flint again
Right stroking idols of Saints Marcel and Anne
far away from the city smog
three men sitting on a hollow log

Three men sitting on a hollow log
all for one and one for ruin
reactive Middle suckles thumb wound
Left Man’s coat a sort-of pale maroon
salesmen for the demagogue
three men sitting on a hollow log

Three men sitting on a hollow log
Right, Middle, Left all gaunt as tain
growing behind, a patch of wolf’s bane
waiting as long as they can sustain
anticipating a stern slog
three men sitting on a hollow log

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Lost River/Old River

Boatman, take me down
And see that we don’t drown
Lost River/Old River

He asked me where to go
When I’m there, I’ll know
Lost River/Old River

I forgot I was a man
As we pushed away from land
Lost River/Old River

I forgot I was a son
Across the dark water we moved upon
Lost River/Old River

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Old As Angry

Let me skate beneath your mind
Let you know the reason how
Old as angry

Folk is future
So we’re hanging on by a thread just to share a little fire
I say old as angry

We’ve been here forever and we’ll always be here
And that’s not going to change whether we like it or not
I say old as angry

Are you angry with me?
Since the serpent and we were once one
Old as angry

Our dreams and demons are all the same
Whether you believe in the cops or a hollow Earth
I say old as angry

Pick ‘em up and knock ‘em down
Like chess pieces through eyes of an unbruised child
I say old as angry

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When I first came to the Lone Star State
I must have stuck out like a sore thumb
But the people here were nice and friendly
And never treated me like another bum
Jimmie Rodgers found out first-hand
The generosity I found from the start
And though I’m not from here
Texas has always been in my heart

It’s like another country
It would take a lifetime to see it all
Like the popular saying goes,
You couldn’t describe much here as “small”
I mean to say it’s big
But their kindness is off the charts
And though I’m not from here
Texas has always been in my heart

You can almost hear the Comanche drums
On the wind across the plain
And as for music, everyone knows
Bob Wills is still the king
They like their fiddles high and lonesome
And their rhythms and summers hot
And though I’m not from here
Texas has always been in my heart

Deep in the heart of Texas
Is a river called Guadalupe
And like that river, my heart
Flows in that sacred stoop
A land where even a stranger
Is treated with warm regards
Because although I’m not from here
Texas will remain in my heart

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Night Of The World

The Sun is sinking like a tomb
Giving light unto the Moon
Like a bride hiding from her groom

And I am left here with my Mind
To strip and rob me blind
My hands tied up in a bind

You’re no ordinary girl
My Mind is in a whirl
You are the Night of the World

The night is the time for escapees
To crawl through prison sewers on their knees
Then outside, gone in the night’s breeze

The night is the place of real politics
The Mind up to its old tricks
It just can’t wait to get its fix

You’re no ordinary girl
My Mind is in a whirl
You are the Night of the World

Come take over me
If day ever comes again, you can set me free
Its almost so dark I can hardly see

You’re no ordinary girl
My Mind is in a whirl
You are the Night of the World

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Traffic Of Souls

Some souls travel underneath the night
Slinking around in the dark, where habits invite
Some souls travel underneath a star
The gallery of Heaven is fixed, that’s the law
Some souls travel just to patrol
Weaving in and out of the Traffic of Souls

Some souls travel where the light is hot
Throw a beach towel over a Black Hole and say, “Family Plot”
Some souls wander into Lightning’s flash
Their hearts were designed for racing, then to turn to ash
Some souls’ traveling takes its toll
Forgetting how they were first swept up into the Traffic of Souls

Some souls travel where the coin is tossed
Heads you’re homebound, tails you’re lost
Some souls travel only north to south
Their compass points directly into Hell’s mouth
For those souls, traveling itself is the goal
Until they’re sold and spit back into the Traffic of Souls

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Catacombs Cow Cow Boogie


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The State Will Take Care Of Me

You taught me alphabet and technique
you baptized me in the cool creek
I think in English through and through
and all thanks to you
I inherited your calloused skin
and when I left, I thought I’d never sin
independent, but not necessarily
now on, the state will take care of me

We’ll see who laughs last
a child’s smile curves up the graph
render unto Caesar what is his
ah, it is what it is
now I’m a life force of my own
I can intiate another drone
until it decides it can no longer sit
then, the state will take care of it

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