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Harper Roy Lifemask The Lord's Prayer a) Poem b) Modal Song parts I to IV c) Front Song d) Middle Song e) End Song (Front Song reprise) There once was a man from the old stone age And he used to follow the weather But now he's got hung up on filling a page Upon whether to go or together And he's been around for so damn long With his whooping and wailing Crushing questions between right and wrong And impaling The best he can hope and the worst he can fear On the solstices of an illusion A massive erection of pushy defence Up the whole of the prosecution Great solace the wound, great relish the pain To be loosing the reins of a poem To bleed from the tip of my tongue yet again That part of my heart that is showing These children conceived in the womb of this crash To be the sponsors of nothing much more Than rearguard directions of crossfingered sections Of purpose pot - looking for nothing But what is this last desperate vestige of heart over head But another conjecture No more the tomb of the martyred dead Than the ghost of our parting gesture And a hundred billion crystal balls Represent a remarkable failure To swell the song each moment long At the counterpoint of nature As four thumbs flick the tarot deck And two tongues fork eight aces Maybe sixteen fingers feel The fool lives in two places Where rosy lee can read this tea And leave me living the story A white dove with a hawks' head And an open mind before me To sail for a land where life is a high Not a word to be heard or be spoken But the soul - woven web of the endless touch Of a child who could never be broken Who plays a new world on the brink of the ebb As the fish cats prowl in the harbour And now soars high on the beckoning tides' long arm To weigh his last anchor And the sou'westers sing as the lifeboat bells ring In the heads on the faces of changes The heavens collage on excalibres edge The star in his movie converges With fate, in his task, and doom on his brow And a ship in his eye in a bottle Who speeds, to force, to want, to have, To find, to further fortune, Who comes from the north, west, south and east Of the passions of a spirit Witl all the flight of the wildest beast To ever spurr a stirrup, Whose pulse is the master of action Whose heart is an everlasting secret Whose arms are desire Whose lips are welcome Whose eyes tell stories Whose head is a journey Whose hands unfold Whose feet fly Whose face is the stained glass window of a continuous orgasm. Whose being is mine Whose wounds are precious Whose poem is a flower Whose gentleness is the devil Whose indentity is naked Whose magic is a gift Whose power is the transparent tapestry of history Whose stamp is a freak Whose wits are battles Whose cousin is dog Whose times are well fought for Whose stoneage is clever Whose poets know Whose music is barbarian Whose artists are helpless spherical mirrors spinning on the horns of a tidal wave Whose information is belief Whose complexes become religion Whose foundation is spread Whose word is god Whose books are projectiles Whose message is must Whose excuse is holy Who passed it down to me; Whose enemies are landmarks Whose fear is himself Whose hope is lust Whose wish is fresh Whose position is wary Whose mottoes are covers Whose name is hidden Whose nose is suspicious Whose technology is a tangent Whose strategy is dissent Whose thoughts are games Who shares his lot Whose ace is death Whose fingers invent Whose tales weave Whose knots are tied Whose mouth is open Whose ears pierce Whose direction is out Who is aware of disease Who feels the need to cleanse his soul Whose style is disguise Whose dream is innate Whose woman is soothing Whose little children are the delicate blossom of an orchard of electricity Whose spell is for conflict Whose quest is strength Whose war declared Whose suicide is noticed Whose shadow is cast Whose vibes you feel Whose pedigrees are haunted Whose age is unknown Who takes under his wing Whose freaks are real Whose reality is hunger Whose words are jagged Whose tears are shed Whose sick hang Whose weak are kicked Whose cities are bad shelters Whose sanctuary is an idea Who sat round a fire Whose teeth chew Whose faith is change Whose old age comes quickly Whose youth burns Whose systems are white sticks tapping walls Whose prize posession is the planet; Whose wildest lust is escalation Whose cul-de-sacs are feelers Whose main route is massive Whose run is a dance Whose vehicle is fantasy Whose home is high Whose role continues Whose bearing is savage Whose saints are dead Whose sons bark Whose daughters play Whose strength is against Who grows in the sun and sleeps in the moon Who roams deserets, plateaux, mountains, forests and plains with vast armies Who am I The spirit of those who were not here And never knew it Who left this prayer to elope A lover's journey through it So children leave your windows open Across the sea Join our hands across the many land You and me Never grown old Seeing without ever being told Something to say Shut away Blackboard so grey Anyway I'm dreaming Out along the back row Out the window Cast away Be free with me Today Great heart mean streak Spare part speed freak I set myself a problem when I built myself a wheel I got myself another when I rode a horse to feel The plains underneath my reins As fast as running water And the big lady I'm playing with Has played a game of poker With me and cat and this and that Until she scored my joker Now we ride in chariots By the side of one another Her soft side My rough ride, Nothing to fear The unknown soldier's grave is already here Is it too late To create A world made with care Is it there Or fleeting Here today and gone Tomorrow's child Looking so wild and free Are we a choice With no voice Can it be Great heart, mean streak Spare part speed freak |
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