BST-o-W ANTHEMIC JAM (proposed S'i'am)

1. REV Two(2)
   
   "Just bring Battle
   Space Tugboat-Of
   -War In-Tow, with a huge up
   -asteroid flow on community creep
   with a real CAP'N: REGULAR PANDA
   in-coat, in-seat chewing bam-boo leaves
   and two tied-for-1st -mates:
   
   VELITO McSKYE plus
   MINIMILLION VERB O'THKA
   STANDING BYE whilst CHALIE,
   Chief Engineer Janitor Boss
   feeds the Cap'n its leaves, designs
   the robot at cost: M-8888-E from a broom closet broom
   -handled mop and about eight quarter sticks of DYNAMITE
   SLOP and the whole thing's
   
   BOON
   
   roaring towards the Space Pirate Regatta again.
   
   An annual affair to declare each Queen of the hits
   parade where the victory sits
   in a lap filled with laurels
   and thorns: obscene."
   GO HIPS R0SE-H1PS, NOW
   
   THIS IS OUR STAGE/SCREEN

intro schema w/ parts sketchy

(KMD sample) "Since the day I was born 
I was on a mission 
Never played out of position
or missing or wishing
I came out kissing was no spank
on the back side 
Just oscillating nurses 
waiting for BLACK [ THAT ] 
guy, I I was talking way 
before I could crawl 
or walk. And what 
the ladies heard 
wasn't baby talk 
I'd drop a line like 
a bomber would drop 
a BOMB. Highly explosive 
but notice I was kool 
and calm, ready 
for action at the age of one the fun 
was just beginning I was winning 
[ hi-hat comes in, some guitar drone ] 
the ladies would come with arms 
open and hoping for a kiss 
and a hug. I'd strip down HAH 
and watch the ladies bug 
I stood up for a while 
then I started walking 
I heard some lady say 
"Look who'se talking" 
That's right baby you 
can't leave me [ HIM! ] 
alone 'cause if you can't 
please me don't tease me 'cause 
I'm [ FULL BAND CRASH 
IN ] BAD TO THE BAD TO 
THE BAD TO THE BAD TO 
THE 

(former spoken by Mohandas 
Dewese AKA Kool Moe Dee)

Full band (low harmony vocal 
me): WE GOT YOUR YEAR 
IN ROCK RIGHT HEAR, BAE
BAE 

I came to be the one who'd stay 
THE ANTI-NICE the opposite 
of what you meant when you talked 
shhh-T I BACK YOU UP AGAINST 

that wall! Because you're indefensible 
You lost the last 
best chance you had you can pray 
Good luck 
You can Ugly it up, but 
I'm 
The Bad 
(S. Leone inspired guitar line 
and chords) I'M 
THE BAD 
DEEER, NEEER DEEEAH DAHH
AHM 
THE BAAAAD 
get 
off 
mah 
TIP 

CONSPIRACY 
is on my side 
Step to me you get took 
for a ride, they'll lock 
You up 
They'll hide the key 
Don't put your self 
through hell for me 
AHM SO MEAN I MEAN IT ALL
My soul is indestructible 
You really ought to doubt 
your "should" 'cause God 
He is Great, 
Jesus is Good, but 
I'm 

the bad 

(Whistling part) 

toot de doodle doodle doo 
BAH NAH NAHHHHH 
der REET der ROOTLE ROO 
DAR, NAR, NAHHHH
DOOTY DOOTY DOOOOO 
nah nah nah 

DOODLE-TOODLE-TU 

HIT IT 

Spoken: destruction is 
a creative act and I love 
to create so keep the hell 
BACK. 

_________________

Band intro: 
CFO & director of BASS STRINGS
COO & director of BOOM
CEO & lead of strings 

CCO 
& assistant to the director 
of strings 

______________

Band goes in to "DESTROY" 

"Rocking (To-Do)"

Here me out
I'm going to call a party. 
Here and now, inviting 
everybody. Bring 
your girlfriend bring 
your boyfriend bring 
your ex-girlfriend too 
everyone you've ever 
loved or even hated 
will do 

Just 
sit on down discussing, or 
get on up dancing 

State 
your mind or change the state 
your mind is in 

I would never tether you 
over what you hold, dear 
Bring your freaky twelve 
step program or your big 

case of beer 

We got rocking to do 
All man 
We got rocking to do 
All woman 

Now jump on up right 
and just for just one man 

'Cause only one man came 
to take his bird in hand 
shove it back under the bush 
Let it cheep-cheep a bit 

Tell that Courtney, Girl 
Next dive's for me let's 
swim still a bit, We 
Got 
Rocking 
TO-DO 
ALL MAN
has got rocking to DO-OOO, with 
ALL WO-MAAA,HANN 
has got rocking to do 

all man 
doo DAHHHHN HAS GOT 
ROCKIN' TO DOO, EWE 

with 

all 

woe 
mah 

han 

guitar solo? 

Bridge to the chorus 

Plug in the Saba Facebook Army
on backup and give me a front 
row metric ticket, please. 

Good 
girl 
Good 
boy 

Go doggo go

back o'time

Long since update: that is
Christy
Leigh SCHAPP!
SCHAPP! SCHAPP, real
estate fans, but don't rule
her out as Cover Girl for
the new Sports Illustrated
Professional MOMS I'D LIKE TO LOVE fat
hardcover special edition (the one with tear-out

"centerfolds" between EVERY LIKE TWO (2) PAGES? no). 

Implied nudity only, please. SI
is a Family Style Institution. It isn't Hustler, thanks. 

N.
O.
W.Good Greasy Grace before, during and at meals please, today. It's franks and beans! The killer duet combo on SAINT PADRAIC'S SNAKE EXPULSERITO BURRITO DAY FOR NIGHT! 

W
a
r
ning. No. MDMA and Roofies alike are NOT "recreational drugs" when you spike
an open container with them. "DEATH, FIRST!" quoth the mad in black. Death first.
It is fate's accomplice you tempt, and the lie detector will be admissible sentencing
phase, DNA ONLY available IF THERE IS ABSOLUTELY NONE (plus audio only
self-documentation by all the ladies) during the appeal during which you will be in
GAOL, not "jail," and violating what Russell Crowe calls "The Kiddie Raper Beef." Capisce
? Yes, Rose. We all

capisce.

This year
is for the mother's daughters and THEIR
moms. Next year for pop, pops, disco and
rock. No roll today. Steve Winwood's got

the mumps again. Sheesh. 

explain the suicides, then

You think you're so 
compassionate but you 
can't even suck your 
dick if incels' lives 
depended on the sub
-jugation of wokind
.
Well rightly so, so said, 
says I - self-care is no 

apocalypse. It might pay 
heed to keep in mind 
your own bent neck 

aimed for
one

kiss.

You think you're so 
woke but you won't 
even check your own 
at the door out of fear 
some adrenalized, test 
-osterolized Def Leppard 
fan will go ape on the 

child you love 

your inner child, then 
- call it a wash 

You claim you're such a big 
Def Leppard fan but 

but WHAT? 

Def Leppard SUCKS? 

Who are you and what 

"Rearview Gleam"

Soon

You'll be alone with the memory
of all
your sincere regards.

And I'll

shuffle off the deck, discretely.
This cruise
Has been free of charge,
so far...

...but the price of admission is guilt
There's a series of fiction confessions in you,
and I'm scenting the sense of a new career -
when you fly off the cliff after it,
won't you spare me one
glance
in
your
rear
view
mirror,

you?

Remember my shine. 
As you wash the world in light, 
from the one thing you got right
Remember my shine. 
Once you've seen the last of me, 
that's the worst of it you'll have to see 
Remember my shine.
As you let your vision dim 
from the too much light 
that you let in, 
remember my

mind 

somewhere
over the spectrum.

And heart

in a cool, dry place.
Where you

have been trapped in graven image,
by the lines

as it desiccates

in an airless space

...while the heiresses R.S.V.P. 
They beg to inform you on bended knee
that you'll be attending the banquet alone,
at a change of address, it is now your
home
sweet
home

Remember my shine. 
As you wash the world in light, 
from the one thing you got right
Remember my shine. 
Once you've seen the last of me, 
that's the worst of it you'll have to see 
Remember my shine.
As you let your vision dim 
from the too much light 
that you let in,
remember mine. 

This abyss that I have been
is not the worst fix I've been in
Since you've seen the last of me,
having left behind the best you'll see, 
if you let your vision drown,
from the too much light that you let down,

Remember why
now,
Remember our
time, 
Remember

mine

lullaby trumpet

May sleep gather you in
with the softest embrace
and forgetfulness wash
all the cares from your face,
as the dreams of the night
take you where you most wish
to be held by the light
and caressed with a kiss.

May the love of your life
beat more strong in your breast
than a pessimist army could hope
to contest, and when night quits
the field, and the birds sound
their call, may you wake
to a dream, and your life
conquer all.

the coming due

We motes
grind stones,
roll wheels, sail boats,
and make much mulch.

You role, I act.
Ad hoc, no script.
Life longs, death looms.
Dumb ass. Quick wit.  

Fake arts, real tries.
Parts whole.
Sums part, knees jerk. 

Prose flies. 
Halts grind. 
Breaks heart. 
Blocks break one's mind. 

On you. 

Hands cry.
Face rests.
Chair falls,
door flings steps skip mad blest to fly. 

Winds sigh
night's wings upheld,
moon looms starshine
warps weft, blind
delves. 

To you.
Your room. 
Once mine.

So far, long lost.

One last long view.

Before the cost. 

One Decent Course

It's either fine how it was,
or it's better now

and I don't care which,
just as long as it fits

you can write whatever end
you want, of the story 
or technically I guess,
set the sequel up

if you finally think
you made a mistake
here's a last chance
to make it right

it's either over like it was,
or else we move on
I refuse to let it drag
on without a fight.
Any longer like this
in my heart, I mean
- you have no idea
there was anything there
but over it
is whatever's between
us at all,

And at least one had 
to care. 

You knew what you had to do,
and you went

right ahead full knowing the cost
you spent, 

but if you finally think
you made a mistake, here's
a last chance to make it right
and if you still think
what you did was right, then

Here's another chance to cut the loss.
Just one more wound,
to wind and bind, if you finally think

You made a mistake. Here's a last chance
to at least make it right. And

you're not the boss anymore, you know. 
But at least
you could serve 
one decent course tonight. 

Mnemantra

Soon, you'll be alone
with the memory

of all

your sincere regards.

And I'll

shuffle off the deck, discretely.

This cruise

Has been free of charge,
so far...

But the price of admission is guilt
There's a series of fiction confessions in you
and I'm sensing the scent of a new career
When you fly off the cliff after it,
won't you spare me one glance in your rear
view
Mirror,
you?

Re

MEM

BER

my

SHINE
This abyss that i have been
is not the worst fix i've been in RE! MEM! BER! MY!
SHINE
once you've seen the last of me
that's the worst of it you'll have to see RE! MEM! BER! MY!
SHINE
if you've let your vision swim
from the too much light that you let in,

re mem ber

mine

my
mind, somewhere
over the spectrum

and heart

in a cool, dry place

where you

have been trapped in graven image

by the lines

as it desiccates,

in an airless space
as the heiresses r.s.v.p.,
they regret to inform you on bended knee
that you'll soon be attending the banquet alone
with a change of address, it is now your home

sweet home

re

mem

ber

MY!

SHINE
as you wash the world in light
from the one thing you got right, RE! MEM! BER! MY!
SHINE
once you've seen the last of me
that's the worst of it you'll have to see, RE! MEM! BER! MY!
SHINE
if you've let your vision swim
from the too much light that you let in

remember mine

This abyss that I have been
is not the worst fix I've been in -

since you've seen the last of me,
having left behind the best you'll see -

if you've let your vision drown
from the too much light that you let down,

re mem ber why

re mem ber our

re mem ber my

time

I keep reading this.

I keep reading this.

Later I come
back and read it
more. And with
never a thing

I can meaningfully
add. It is

strange and frustrating to
me, given how
the image shocks like a
deja vu, like
a recurring,
but always straightaway awake-and-fade
dream. I

know I never actually had
this dream.

Deja vu
is a memory-sensory malfunction. It is not
a combination of precognition and amnesia.

I'm afraid, in the falsely-recovered memory of this place.

Yet deeper than the memory, I know that
in the dream, I am not afraid. Never

afraid. My waking mind

knows it's all just tricks
of brain-lightning. I insist
I've never been there. I insist
I won't go back. The former

is just fact. The latter

is (I think) what scares me.

Shades and Shines

To shade through, like deeper chalks
and oil crayons, pulling out dark
tones into waking light. Shading
through, like a person's soul.
What's left after death -
according to Greeks
- is not you, but

a shadow in your shape,
that moves on in your old
habits and ways.

It no longer
is you. It no longer is

moved,
as it always was,
by the dance of light
and spirit you gave it. That you
give it. That makes it you. It can
never change, not even its mind - it
hasn't one. Just a memory of. So it goes,
on through all the old steps,
shuffling off into shadow,
infinitely stage left.
It's just
whatever impression you've left.

Just so you know:
it is you now dancing,
shining, who creates and shapes
what you leave behind. You
who you are, are your life.
Your memory cast, in everyone's
love, and eyes, and mind, is
but a shade.

And that image you make
while you live every day, it grows
long and goes on, and they stand
in your shade. Already,
day by day, you you pass,
as if into shadow. But you make
of it a shadow play. Because you're
still here to play it again,
to make it last, for as long
as you stay.

Each impression you leave
with each passing of yours,
through any mind, any pair of eyes
- As long as you live to cut the light,
and step however you wish into it,
your deft decision, your grace and might
bring every shadow of you
to life.

And in some ways, maybe
you could say that shade
is a realer somehow, than you
yourself. Considered in terms
of sheer multiplicity? You
are only ever in that one place
you shine, but you leave such array
of reflection behind. Everywhere
behind.

While you live, you do everything
your shade ever can't. You cut
and drape and arrange all shapes,
and color all shades of you, as you go.
You can even stop. Look back, judge
the effect, perhaps have a moment
of self-criticism? Anguish? Some do! And then
twist, leap outward with a cry,
or after a cry,
in some new,

or at least

strange-to-you way, path, plot,
dash, stab, lash, twirl, pirouette?
Something never seen before
in your silhouette. They may not
cry encore. You may say "Hm.
That's not really me, though" but this
is the point: You're the one
who has made and keeps making that call.
You are the one who tries who tries
you on for size and fit, and flings self
into it. Any time you wish, you can throw
new shapes, let old contours go,
bled away in light. An afterimage,
fading soon to past all recall.

You are the light designer
of the show you put on in others lives.
It's you, always, and after all,
who shines.

- but the shape, tone, depth you've laid down
as you go by always shades through. The cumulative you,
in another's view: an aftereffect. And as you play
(at being you) it is that backdrop you play against.
Careful or careless of it, you choose now
always now: mark! Don't look down, step up
hit it on feel, how to get through this scene, this
act: whether word, or dance step and turn, or emphasis
on this or that matter of fact - and what on earth
do you mean by that? That meaning is what you leave
behind, but it isn't you. You have meant far more.

Very little of that has to do with
Greeks, I confess.
They didn't carry their shades out from Hades
into all the images of sense and memory
that one makes in others while living. A shade
was strictly for afters, for them. But
it seems to me, it's the same thing really.
What I thought was kind of wild is that
they knew: your shade was not, and is not
you. Just the shadow your life has cast
off.

It's true.

Shades and Shines (retired draft, since revised)

To shade through, like the deeper
chalks and oil crayons, pulling out
dark tones into waking light, woken
to notice. Shading through,
like a person's soul.

What's left after death
- according to Greeks
- is not you,

but

a shadow in your shape
that moves on, in your old
habits and ways. It no longer
is you. It no longer is

moved, as it always was
by the dance of light and spirit
you give it. That you gave it. That
made it you. That gave it
life.

So it goes, through old steps,
shuffling off into shadow, stage left. Just so

you know: it is you,
dancing, shining, who creates
and shapes what you leave behind
today. You who you are, are life.
Your memory in everyone's love
and eyes and mind, is but a shade.

The image in mind - that you have made,
that you make now while you live,
every day, and long before you die -
is your shade. Already, you pass, as if
into shadow

but you make of it a shadow play.

Each impression you leave
with each passing of yours, through
any mind, any pair of eyes - As long
as you live to cut the light, and step
however you wish into it, your deft
decision, your grace and might
bring every shadow of you to life.

In some ways, you could say
that's a great deal realer
than you -
considered in terms
of sheer multiplicity? For you
are only ever in
that one place you shine,
as you leave such array
of your shade, behind.
Everywhere behind.

Yet you yourself are greater,
clearly. You
are the dancer in light, whose life
is what cuts, drapes and arranges
all those shapes, those shades of you,
for others - you do
everything your shade ever can't. Even
stop. Look back, judge the effect, perhaps,
have a moment of self-anguish and criticism?
Some do! And then twist, leap outward with
a cry, or after a cry,
in some new,

new, or at least
strange-to-you way, path, dash, stab,
lash, twirl, pirouette? Not seen
before, in any play of your silhouette
well, they may not cry encore, and you may
say "Hm. That's not really me," but this
is the point: You are the one who tries
you on. At any time, you
can throw new shapes, let old contours
go, bled away in light. An afterimage,
soon to be past all recall. You
are the light designer
of the show you put on
in others lives. It's you,
always, and after all,
who shines

- but the shape, and tone, of all you've laid down
and thrown as you go by, shades through. And as you play
at being you, you play against that backdrop. Careful
or careless of it, you choose now, always now: mark,
plot, feel, how to get through this scene, you
choose now: act, and word, and step, and turn, and emphasis, and
what on earth do you mean?

Very little of that has to do with
Greeks, I confess.
They didn't carry their shades out from Hades
into the images, of sense and memory,
that one makes in others while living. A shade
was strictly for afters, for them. But
seems to me, it's the same thing really.
What I thought was kind of wild is that
they knew: your shade was not, and is not
you. Just the shadow your life cast behind
it.

It's true.

sailor & coke

Don't let the sunny side
shining a light on sadland
bring you down! Whip up
a frothy cup of yourself
and say, "I do believe it's
hot, I do believe it's
sweet, I do believe it's
good" and then taste carefully
and see. Sometimes you have to be
your own mocha. Sometimes mocha
is not what you want.
Two broken hearts
walked into a bar and one said
"You look just like my better half."
The other said I can see why the fit
didn't work. Look, you're dull cracks
where I'm jagged edges. You're rounded, where
I'm all broke. You can't make
two hearts like these
beat as one, and
the bartender served them sailor & coke.

"masterplan (revised)"

You make me want to plan together with you
some spectacular crime that will shock the world
and everyone will say we're so devious
and so deviant and so dangerous, that
the only possible way to deal with it
would be to build a special prison
with just you and me in it.

"master plan" (Later Revised) (Original Version)

You make me want to plan and execute
Some spectacular crime together with you
that will craze, amaze and shock the world
and make the toes of newscasters curl
and the pundits will say: we're so devious
and dangerous, and deviant
that the only way how to deal with it
is construct a new kind of prison,
fit to the crime and designed to isolate:
and with only you and me in it.

to go order

Whip up a frothy cup of yourself
and say, "I do believe it's hot,
I do believe it's sweet, I do
believe it's good, I do" and then
taste carefully and see. Sometimes,
you have to be your own mocha. Sometimes
mocha is not what you want.

"Smoking 'til the ship comes in" (Or, "Last year's mantra, Revision No.4")

Lord, if I could get one wish I want to be your will for me on earth.

Lord, if I could get one more I want to be the best thing here, for her. But, lord

if I can't be that thing that I most want to be

for you,
just let me be whatever else I have to do

for I
am through

i am.

Lord,

If I could get one wish, I want to

be

your will for me, on Earth. Lord,
if I could get one more,

I want to be
the best man here,

for her.

The Worst Mistake of Your Life

When you're looking back at the end of time,
and it's passing in front of you line by line,
and you're figuring out where it all went wrong
- will your finger stop on the day you're born?
No of course not, we know that won't be the case.
We can all catalog all our worst mistakes.
But when you tally up your account of tears -
please don't leave out this moment right here

'cause you're one step away from the worst mistake of your life.

It's never too late for the worst mistake of your life

You're spending your life in a hundred ways.
You've been getting ahead of yourself for days,
and it's going to catch up to you soon or late
- it will circle round, like the hand of fate.
You will look back behind you and turn to stone,
see the risk that you're taking may be your own
and each painful decision you make so fast
- you're so sure that it should be the last!

...but you're one step away from the worst mistake of your life.

It's never too late for the worst mistake of your life.

It should be amazing, this life you hold.
Through the walls and the windows of heart and soul,
you can still catch a glimpse of familiar space
in the dawning light on a stranger's face
Well if anything's sacred, that must be it.
If the piece that you're holding won't ever fit,
what if somebody somewhere out in the cold
has a jigsaw gap, just the shape you hold...?
but you pick at your life like a locked door
and you may not be right, but at least you're sure
'cause you always have some kind of map around
but you don't know your upside from down.

And you're one step away from the worst mistake of your life

It's never too late for the worst mistake of your life