1. |
Intro
04:16
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2. |
Polymelia and the Satyr
05:28
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1.
She hears her insides and finds tidings there: her acrobatic heart has a prehensile tail. She sees her outsides and cries moonlit skies: abnormal limbs scratch and claw out her eyes.
2.
The first, wheezing, mist-choked and brackish breath of dawn slides through her, itching and pale, clothes half-on. She hopes her man wields an unbiased mind. In fact, she’d hardly complain were he deaf, dumb and blind.
A.
They sat together, for the first time, with an antiquated, sleeping chaperon…
B.
Her suitor bound his prize with eyes afloat in skies of adoration! In alarm, her extra arms would twist in protest, pinching stubbornly!
C.
Her tumbling skirts and blouse and panicked visage might have frightened him, but nay!
He tipped his hat and showed his horns and winked and kicked his shoes away,
and tapped a rhythm on her porch with highly polished hooves of gray!
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3. |
Revenge On the Nursemaid
03:05
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1.
My nursemaid once gave me a kiss and a farthing. Two pence would have made sense; this was alarming. I was a good boy! I never got sick! So this slice of a penny induced a coin trick.
2.
I traded my farthing for an old metal soldier which I sold to my brother, a collector, much older. He gave me a penny which then begat three when I found for the soldier some staunch company.
3.
My threepenny bit soon turned to a tanner when I resold some fruit; some plums and bananas. A half-shilling’s worth of shoe polish came next, and two bob from the bank men left my pockets perplexed.
4.
With florin in hand I set up a stand and sold Penny Dreadfuls at second hand. Inside of a week I’d made half a crown, and my story appraisals had earned some renown.
5.
For one sovereign, one guinea, I sold off my stock and found my revenge when the nursemaid was shopping; she cried at the till, “All I need is two pence!” Said I, “All I’ve got is ten pound, four and six.”
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4. |
Meaty Bones and Porridge
03:39
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1.
Near a tiny village and living in a cave, sweaty and fierce, there was a toothy brute! Ate up all the maidens and gobbled up the sheep, so hungry and cruel… and he spat in the well. The men would get mad and go marching around! But then their frowny frowns came rolling down…
2.
Seamus was a little lad, maybe five, maybe six, tough as a nail. Red, dead, no head… ogre killed his cousin and he wanted revenge. And so he scaled the hill and stood there a-scowling, his hands on his hips. A dog came out barking with murderous lips!
3.
Ogre and his dog, both malice dripping drool, black eyeballs of coal! Seamus, unafraid, spoke of princess breakfast blood and offered a taste: three drops in hot porridge. “Oh, get me more, I’ll not eat thee, I swear! I’ll keep from the village; I’ll stay in my lair!”
4.
Seamus gathered marching men and told them of the ogre so drunk in his lust! “But what about the dog?” they cried. “That bloody hound hears everything, and warns of approach!” But little Seamus laughed.
5.
Morning came and Seamus stood, holding out the wooden bowl tainted with red. Ogre grinned with greed, Seamus said he’d bring him more, just lock up the dog. And so the men jumped in and cut off his head while he sipped at the gruel. The ogre’s last thought: that he’d been a fool.
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5. |
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The Adventures of Jonas Mauken, a New England Scot, and the Only Man Who Returned From Fiddler’s Green To Sail Again
1.
I set out to sea 1853… I was chin-deep in rum and tired of drifting. Well, that schooner sank! (And when she hit bottom, I swam from the crow’s nest and trudged back to Boston.) Next time around it was nigh 1860, but the voyage was jinxed, we took tacks that were risky. A storm sent us down, and I bubbled and frowned. It was a long ways away, a long hike back to town.
2.
In 1903 word first got to me that the name Jonas Mauken was rather unlucky. Despite this I sailed (as “Salty” J. Mackie) and sank not but two miles in sight glass of Quincy. Four years elapsed and I went out with Dow on that steel, seven-master, and I spat on the bow. We ran ‘fore a gale that tore out the rigging, and she finally floundered near the Islands of Scilly.
…A whaler from Portsmouth, a trawler from Gloucester… they all met their fate and I slowly slogged homeward…
3.
For decades and decades I been sinking ships, but never a curse hath come from my lips. I’m a good-natured man, and an experienced hand, but disaster comes calling when I set out from land. I spent years on the sea, and many years under, tramping sea floor once my ship’s torn asunder. But I’ll keep trying, yea, though I sink every one, until somehow I’m stopped, by God or by gun.
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6. |
Dirty Weather
05:21
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One
The last thing I remember was a spot of dirty weather and the captain yelling through his beard! The next time I saw sunlight, my face and fingers didn’t feel right! There was a pint of briny stowed in either ear! Bits of boat and sail confused a glassy sea. Though much abused, the tempest, in the end, had let me live! Floating cold and dead, the captain’s sideboard knocked against my head! Inside were rum and a soaking crust of bread!
Oh! Hey-ho for the captain’s sideboard!
Two
Come evening time a reddened eye gazed down and set the seas awry! The stirring surge revealed a thick-tongued cry! Not alone; a bubbling moan! I likened it to pale-blue toes… Just there! A pale-blue face o’er pale-blue bones!
Oh! Hey-ho for the corpse of Feyrac!
Three
The semi-buoyant first-mate had expired, met a dampened fate! But he blinked and swam, at least, at a mortal rate…. He beckoned me, where could I run? He asked if I knew how far he’d come. The captain had sent him up to fetch the rum!
Oh! Hey-ho, for the drowned are thirsty!
Four
I wondered if a ghost could drink the ghost of rum, for the bottle tinkled clear and empty; I was long since done. He waited there, I scratched my hair; I needed rum but how and where? I longed to cut away but hardly dared! Old Feyrac’s drowned and swimming face implied the course was clear. My fate was death at sea, and I was late. Standing, knife in hand, I plunged the blade into my stomach and the fount was bottled up, as Feyrac planned.
Oh! And I went to join my Captain!
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7. |
Queen Maude's Pirates
05:56
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Pirates:
"On ships as black as pitch we are a coastal snarl-
Every boat enraged, and rabid!
Every tooth engaged and savage!
"On ships as fast as falcon screams in high ravines-
Every man a sharpened talon!
Veins that pulse with a virile toxin!
We sail for pride and ruin!
Plunder culled from the sea we’re strewn in!"
Queen Maude:
"Rain comes from black clouds, so death from my fleet! Loud and cruel peals of thunder, my foes blasted under the sea! Along ridge lines, in mist, heads on oak spines foretell doom to all who would cross into Maude’s mountain halls!
Pirates:
"On ships as fell as rime and frost to the cold and lost-
Merchantmen we catch and strangle!
Laden galleons we entangle!
"On ships as sharp as morning light to smoke-filled sight-
Every man a corsair-demon!
Eyes alight with mortal seething!
We sail for Maude, our Queen!
We rule the seas for lands unseen!"
Queen Maude:
"My people have known war from highland to seashore! Our gods have abandoned their mad children’s land in dismay! Perdition is served in a flagon for heroes; their souls may unbend, sheltered in flame."
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8. |
Ursusarktos the Bachelor
05:52
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Oak leaves shaking in a clearing, out of sight and hearing…
Kindling for a magic trick, it hastens from my lips, burning...
I fortify my lair; we take in castle air, drinking…
Cart wrights foul their hammers on their fragile digits, cursing…
Children pull their parents, hooves and tears on cobbles, neighing…
We laugh at peasant ingenuity, “They’re so charming.”
The cathedral overhears and metal lupine jaws are snarling…
I have the heart of a bear!
The heart of a bear!
Fingers fashioned into stars, a clumsy constellation fanning
conflagrations in my chest, lungs and embers screaming…
Broken bits of man around the city walls are crumbling…
The visage of a soldier, stoic, growing colder, waiting…
Passion conquered fear, fate has brought us here, gazing
owl eyes in sunlit skies we hurry backwards, reeling…
The maiden pressed against the leaden glass gives me feeling…
I have the heart of a bear!
The heart of a bear!
Eyeteeth drawn against my tongue… the villagers have fun at hiding!
Then they swarm about me, fearing, wondering and clapping,
remembering the kings who used to use their hands when hunting…
The starka fills me up, I gnash at buttercups… she’s watching!
Who am I and where? I cannot help but stare! I’m whirling!
I flail about and grimace, scream and shout and finish, kneeling!
Faces drown in ripples, underneath I frown; she’s leaving…
I have the heart of a bear!
The heart of a bear!
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9. |
Dishonest Corset
04:51
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10. |
Tiny Little Things
14:29
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11. |
Lucas Lanthier Vienna, Austria
Digital discography for Cinema Strange, the Deadfly Ensemble, and Lucas Lanthier. (Chronological; newest at the top)
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