1. |
Bruise Animals
05:20
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Part one:
Evenings with mother tend to be discouraging. I always end up bruised. Evenings with father frighten me. All the animals will come to see where I've been abused.
With bars of fragile bone and teeth I enclose a hundred birds and beasts. We sway and swoon. At night they howl and scream at me! They would all much rather be set free beneath the dull, throbbing light of a blue-black moon."
Part two:
One upon my thigh has wings! He flies and sings; his face is purple. Watch me twist my mouth in pain; I've sat upon some beast again.
Twice since Thursday, I've sat bleeding out upon the back step, reading. Apparently I have the only broken-skin menagerie.
Eyes and gills distinguish certain crimson epidermal oceans. Sunlight on my skin is dim and withered; in my zoo it's night.
There's a flock upon my back, their beaks are long and cruel and black. They preen and flap with ruined capillaries; yes, there's blood, in fact. One around my throat makes sound. He screams against gray, early morning. Red and bending, never ending... He's some sort of snake, I've found.
And eight legged toads and lambies in rows and pink-kitten circles of lilies and roses... An ant-farm awry under lavender skies... all of this smeared on my thin-beaten skin.
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2. |
Midsummer William
04:56
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One
We laugh when midsummer’s here, we flit beneath the green leaves of the deep, dark forest without fear. We step upon the brown and frowning rocks, for William’s near!
Chorus
Me and she are holding hands. To kiss among the trees we linger…
Me and she hear William and his laughter’s bright orange salamanders…
Bright orange salamanders…
Two
We unfurl at Williamsound, the nutmeg breath of sleeping squirrels and harvest mouse blinks are his words. He squeezes shipwreck tales past smiling sap and barkskin scales.
Three
We are found, the light is bound away! His hands have clearly shown the tracks of beetles not yet grown! He turns his face of moss and lichen layers not yet lost…
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3. |
Black-Capped Chaplains
02:59
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One
Father Kelly argues capably; he quantifies the flames of hell. But I’m a young man not immune to winter’s fingers and perfume. Cider, wood smoke, blanketed lanes, black-capped chaplains chatter in the treetops; laughing in the boughs they preach a way of mischief this December day.
Two
Sullen orchards frosted, glowering, horses shod with soot and lost but glowing embers, old November chimneys breathing blackened breath. Shiny noses, reddened cheeks, buttered rum and laden mantelpieces act like creases in a well-worn tavern yuletide grin.
Three
Dusk induces shops of cinnamon, clockwork mice and gaily-colored cloth to burst with heady flights of boisterous, bounding, bloodstained light. Snowflakes shine like retinal haloes! Church bells all but mute, yet I tiptoe, slipping past the headstones into the woods where a pretty girl promised me that she would!
Four
Gifts and forfeits, coy and ribbon-bound, given, coaxed, unwrapped, surrendered. Hearts are leaking, spirits set on wreaking chaos-love duets. Suppertime, eggnog, pipes alight! A song in the lungs of mortal merriment! These are days unbent with cheer; the animated deathtime of the year!
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4. |
Millions of Flies
02:33
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They crept on hinged legs and suction cup toe-touch, leaving like dew drops their itch and infection. Even Anopheles hastens for distance, losing an arm outstretched, keeping her burden.
They were a sound that grew quiet and then found looking-glass ladies and children with scabies. We are the monsters who smile after crib-death. We are the grace for the clinically dead.
We love the hiding guns, we hate the iron lung.
We go fast on black ice, we are a million flies.
We love the hiding guns, we hate the iron lung.
We go fast on black ice, we are a million flies.
Their eyes were compound, imagine their seething... Hands like a scavenger; instantly curious. Even Hippocrates humored finality; he heard the fly-sound and then learned antithesis. Dead in the parlor with dust like a membrane, fly friends are dreaming of wings and antennae. And when the family gathers to stare, lights are turned low for the pink-painted cheekbones...
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5. |
the Anatomist
03:02
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I wear a nose and goodness knows I’m smart.
I walk undersea, lunglessly.
I pretend to writhe and seethe.
I count every time I shout.
I waste away once per day.
I avoid the stars (and planes and cars).
I talk upside down. Her evening gown is on the ground!
I instruct anatomy.
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6. |
Cariadoc's Kiss
03:46
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One
She stirs a cauldron in fingers of sun that are coming undone. Intrepid insects play in the gaps of shadow and summer dust. But raindrops would leak through the cottage skin of thatch and straw. “Oh, beetles, please staunch those wounds in the roof ‘ere the rainy clouds gather!”
Two
She sees half-bugs tumbling down, bitten and chewed upon! She chides and scolds him, his mouth full of carapace, antennae and wings! Her voice is music! He hugs himself blue and laughs his way down to her. She says that he’ll do; she needed some meat to throw in the stew!
Cariadoc
“Oh, no! We taste so horrible! But then, we could be mutton-chops! Or what if we left your supper simmering here? It would stay warm and we could run with the deer! Oh, no! You need to do your chores! But then, you could be five years old… A kiss on your lips will make you tiny and free! You can scream like a gale in the forest with me! We can scare farmers and frogs half to death! And splash in the streams until we’re well out of breath!”
Three
Fingers of moonlight… wizened and gray, she takes up the cauldron spoon…
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7. |
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One
Gas lamp gone, I stumble, sneeze, the dust in darkness makes me wheeze and fidgets in my fingers flipping files that start with “F” I’ll set alight.
Refrain
Ha’penny gone from a threepenny purse!
No room for rum when taxes come first!
Alfreds and Davids and titles and writs
yanked from their holes and rendered to bits!
I’ll burn the Lord Mayor asleep in his bed
If he’s dreaming my name as a number, instead!
I’m well done with fines; I’ll no longer be traced!
My own, and all “F"s in town hall are erased!
Two
Mrs. Fisk is now a maiden. Mary Fenton not deceased. And Arthur Fuller’s fortune’s bound for probate lest he file a brand new will.
Three
Sunlight wipes the sleep from cobblestones. I tumble ditchwards, laughing. Next time taxes come around, I’ll tip my hat and drink three penn’orth rum.
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8. |
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One
Tom flew, Tom flew, and Nick was flying, too! Far away, night and gray, and they’d been gone for days. Down in town, their mum made sounds and their eyes were glazed and round!
Chorus
“We could go back, but we’re still secret! We don’t need our hats because it’s not chilly! We could hold hands but it’s not scary!”
Two
In the dust, spiders rush and their fingers lose their touch. On the floor, behind the door in that nightshirt they abhor! Mum tried, mum cried… she thinks her boys have died!
Three
Mum is bound to pay a hundred pounds, and yet, they shall remain unfound. No man in medicine can bring them back again… But then she recalls her uncle Paul, who used to stare at walls!
Thrilling Climax
“From under the clouds, there booms a basso song, it tells us, ‘Don’t fuss!’ So we make haste to the desert waste. He’s floating there! ‘Don’t be scared!’ He scowls and says that we are almost dead! ‘You must return! You have to learn!’”
Happily Ever After
Now they blink! Tom and Nick think their mum is so, so pretty! “Don’t cry! We’re hungry! Now let’s stand! That’s better! Now let’s clap our hands!”
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9. |
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One
I can’t get this knot… is it two loops or three?
Is it “down through the hole” then “thrice round the tree”?
My boots are on tight. I’ve got kid gloves to spare…
But my breeches and braces are draped on the chair.
Chorus One
This necktie’s all wrinkled! My hat is unfound!
My walking stick’s broken! My vest’s on the ground!
Two
I noticed red stains at half past the hour.
With tardiness certain, my outlook was dour.
A shirt in that state is a shameful display…
(But with waistcoat in place it might do for the day.)
Chorus Two
But a collar so covered in filth should be burned!
One’s standing in social milieu is concerned!
I never thought dressing could cause so much grief!
When I’m dead or asleep it will be a relief!
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10. |
John Fall Apart John
04:26
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One
I… I found…
I… I saw…
We watched me…
We asked me who…
Chorus One
…my watch upon the lawn.
…my hat just beyond.
…go by sideways; we looked away.
…I am. Please call me something.
Two
He stood low…
He won’t look…
They don’t ask…
They don’t like that John…
Chorus Two
…like a naked shrub among tall trees.
…against my face; his eyes skid on pavement.
…after nondescript, atonal trench coats.
…can’t quite remember why…it was something.
John fall apart John
Please call me
John fall apart John
Please call me
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11. |
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12. |
Horse On the Moor
02:22
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And his tears mingled with the still waters of the peat bog...
"I brought you something darling!"
And he saw clay fingers protruding from the mud!
"I love you still!"
One
"My love liked to ride, so I'm giving her a horse's head. The rest is made of wood, but it hardly matters, 'cause she's dead! My love took her tea from a light-blue china service, and so that got buried first so she could calm herself in case of nervousness.”
Two
"My love wore her hair in a darling mess of golden braids... To help her under there, I'm sending down one of her maids. And my love had an eye for cameos and feathers for lapels. I don't have those, but I have a lot of pretty silver bells."
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13. |
Tee Mit Honig
02:00
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(The shocking revelation, as it was recorded during the inquest for his mother.)
I want to be with tea with honey…
That drink makes me scream. I don’t have any friends.
When I itch, bugs fall out. When I'm alone black water gets me WET!
(Watch him kill a cow with a baseball bat!)
Yesterday I saw a plant red-bleeding on the concrete.
I like to be with tea with honey…
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14. |
Closing Remarks
02:18
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Lucas Lanthier Vienna, Austria
Digital discography for Cinema Strange, the Deadfly Ensemble, and Lucas Lanthier. (Chronological; newest at the top)
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