"Devil Town" by Daniel Johnston
I was living in a devil town
I didn't know it was a devil town
Oh lord it really brings me down about the devil town
All my friends were vampires
I didn't know they were vampires
It turns out I was a vampire myself in the devil town
I was living in a devil town
I didn't know it was a devil town
Oh lord it really brings me down about the devil town
All my friends were vampires
I didn't know they were vampires
It turns out I was a vampire myself in the devil town
I was living in a devil town
I didn't know it was a devil town
Oh lord it really brings me down about the devil town
About the devil town
I was living in a devil town
I didn't know it was a devil town
Oh lord it really brings me down about the devil town
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Hello friends and whomever else visits this land of doom (ooh spooky!)
I have been sick lately... a cold and then a flu and still yet a cold. At least I didn't catch scurvy eh? Writing a wee bit, I really want to get back in that groove. Joined "Netflix" so I now have a reason to not sit depressed at my keyboard looking for obscure music and odd pornography.
Now I can sit depressed watching 70's Grindhouse T&A Terror Drive in films. I have been immersing myself in music lately (more than usual), I highly recommend these artist's:
The Arcade Fire
("Cold Wind", "Crown of Love" and "Neighborhood #1" to name a few to illegally download)
Daniel Johnston
("Devil Town", "The story of an artist", "Casper the friendly ghost" and "Careless Soul" are some fine shining examples of his genius... also rent if you can on DVD "The Devil and Daniel Johnston" it is heartbreaking and amazing, and really hit home for me in some odd ways.)
A Whisper in the Noise
("Times they are a changin'"and "The tale of two doves")
and last but not least... Iron & Wine
("Such great heights", "Jesus the mexican boy", "Naked as we came" and "The sea and the rhythm" are great listens.)
Anyhow, sorry about the brief music 101.
Here are some poems.
Love Captain PirateFace
__________________
I have waited
I have given up on time.
Time keeps coma victims in the dark.
Time killed my childhood.
I watch the days go by.
Some days I am a hero.
Some days I am a bastard.
And most days I am just nothing.
I sometimes wonder if she still thinks about me.
Does she sometimes still love me?
Or has time killed that away from her as well.
Most days the look in her eyes holds all the answers.
Filling her heart with limitless lies.
Tonight the air is too cold to breath in.
I think it must be me.
It usually is.
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The kids hate me
I am going to be...
"The scary old guy"
looking out my window
old man hands pushed up against the window while
gritting my teeth.
As the kids cut through my yard I will be the one throwing
Little wooden crucified Christ's at them screaming "Repent! Repent
You pungent little fucks".
Just for kicks.
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The scars that we give
We are a cult of self terrorists.
Genocide of our souls.
Cutting it all into precision.
Pretending it's beauty.
Pretending for beauty.
Who has the worst scars?
Does it have any meaning?
A landmass with crawling insect humanity,
Whining out loud begging for easy and for
greed and for lust and for more drama.
We all want our war scars.
If it seems interesting maybe something can love us for it?
Pity or love us, it really doesn’t matter.
When the collective back breaks I will pray to something
For us all...
Through the scars of my heart and through
The scars of my soul.
As the lunatics take over this hospital.
___________________________________________
Discarded like so many others
A small pile of skulls rests ready to tumble in a dark lonely corner.
Grinning with empty black eye holes and various sized teeth.
Lipless things that once promised the moon.
Hard bone face's that once held skin caressed in a moment of ecstasy.
Now just a group of body-less things.
No more thoughts and no more promises.
No more tears and no more laugh lines.
Just a group of nameless bone faces staring into nothing.
And we don't think there is humor in death?
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suicide letters and goodbye lectures
It begins with self pity and regrets,
or...
Blame and humor and fire and the attempt at being witty.
Sometimes short and bland and full of nothing.
Sometimes flowery poetic and tragic and written in the hopes
that it will be shown to the world.
Ghosts writing letters about being ghosts.
I will leave a blank page.
_________________________________________________
poet wakes up and screams out loud...
"What is this shit I have been writing!?!?"
each little thought and each little line in each little poem,
is the poets babies.
I look at the work I have created and want to murder my children.
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Devil Days and Listless Nights
Satan has a keen eye.
Fixed on my tormented soul.
And I know that I have forgotten heaven and Jesus.
And God, has forgotten me.
I run from the devil.
Through sunny days,
Through lonely days,
Through happy days.
I am getting older and gaining more weight,
More health problems and more mental problems.
And Satan gets less interested by the day.
One day when I am at the weakest and sickest...
They will all have forgotten me.
And my soul will be mine once again,
If only for a moment.
___________________________________________
Beautiful music is in my head and making me crazy
I want to sing out at inappropriate times.
At funerals and when I am being scolded by my wife.
When my son is screaming a tantrum.
When the bills are piling up and things are getting shut off.
When I am sitting fat and slumped crying my eyes out at this
piece of shit machine.
The songs in my head are beautiful and loud.
Tragic and breathtaking.
Heartbreaking.
And they make it all so much worse.
_______________________________________________
cowardice and hope
(and the hope for more cowardice)
I am not in denial.
I wish I could feel different than I feel normally.
Every time I lose myself I prepare to meet my God.
If I die sad and facing judgment,
Then I do so with a smile.
My heart swells and grows with love and disease
and blood and desire.
I walk away from it all wiping my hands clean.
The only blood there is mine.
And all your well wishing cannot save me.
All your parlor tricks and guilt gifts cannot save me.
All your old photographs and memories of a once hope full
little boy, will not save me.
Do me the favor and just save yourself.
________________________________________________
guessing games
what will he say next?
I can hear the invalid scraping by on a wood box with three swivel wheels.
I know I don't deserve all that attention.
More than most fat men can muster.
The lazy eyed girl winks too many times and may be having a seizure, or she's
falling in love with me.
I am disturbing the sensibilities of my grandparents.
I hear them sigh almost a whole continent away praying next to their beds asking
God, "Why cant you fix him Lord?"
The sun shines on my face exposing a limitless amount of ugliness.
And I smile at those few clouds dangling from the sky.
The trick is on them.
I get to keep my feet on the ground and feed the ghosts little pieces of my muse.
The devil grabs at my feet and I calmly walk away.
When the smell of fresh cut grass hits my sinus cavity, I am already thinking
of ways to seduce my wife and fail.
I can’t wait to be a martyr.
And if I am lucky... an action figure may follow.
Thats it kids, I leave you with the lyrics to Daniel Johnston's song...
"The story of an artist"
Listen up and I'll tell a story
About an artist growing old
Some would try for fame and glory
Others aren't so bold
Everyone, and friends and family
Saying, "Hey! Get a job!"
"Why do you only do that only?
Why are you so odd?
We don't really like what you do.
We don't think anyone ever will.
It's a problem that you have,
And this problem's made you ill."
Listen up and I'll tell a story
About an artist growing old
Some would try for fame and glory
Others aren't so bold
The artist walks alone
Someone says behind his back,
"He's got his gall to call himself that!
He doesn't even know where he's at!"
The artist walks among the flowers
Appreciating the sun
He does this all his waking hours
But is it really so wrong?
They sit in front of their TV
Saying, "Hey! This is fun!"
And they laugh at the artist
Saying, "He doesn't know how to have fun."
The best things in life are truly free
Singing birds and laughing bees
"You've got me wrong", says he.
"The sun don't shine in your TV"
Listen up and I'll tell a story
About an artist growing old
Some would try for fame and glory
Others aren't so bold
Everyone, and friends and family
Saying, "Hey! Get a job!"
"Why do you only do that only?
Why are you so odd?
We don't really like what you do.
We don't think anyone ever will.
It's a problem that you have,
And this problem's made you ill."
Listen up and I'll tell a story
About an artist growing old.
Some would try for fame and glory
Others just like to watch the world.
Goodnight...
Captain PirateFace
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