The King So Felled

Long live the song
Long live the choir that does here circled sing
Long live bright blue blood
Long live the firstwrought king

Right-o, long live the bone and iron
And chants and fired whims
Livelong the day-o day-o
Work away to lume the tower’s bricks with hymns
The bright night so cast we out on wings
of bright-shod putrescent captivations
and shadows sent on drinks that spin

bottles upon bottles
upon bottles upon shivs
like teeth
like teeth that grin

devouring he their Bone-man King

and I his righthand
and I the next

have come
unwound

Yes I
have come
unhinged

See we say that the songs must be sung
See we say that the singing must be done
For songs are a power
And chants are a right
that might makes

Sing loud, for storms shake
the tower outside these hoary halls
the threat of the hour
eludes all but one

and I
am the choice
of none but my own

for I
have made this circle
hum

and turn

with a snap
and a yearn

A ritual spinning
Wheels of bone, sinew
And iron two

Words are
Cylinders firing
Songs are wheels
That spin

Truths are
cannons firing
Lies are ropes
That swing

Look how he goes!
There lower than my
booted feet
the hanging king
A toothless
headless
thing

Once made
Unmade
For tis’ I
who killed the king

But those below
Blind by the positioning
Do not see him
For what he is
As dead as stone
And just as hard
And dumb and mute and thin

Long live our Lord the king!
Who steers our ship of state
‘gainst shores of frightened gates:
night, nature
and fear
- steer straight!

These songs they sing
They ate now spit
Regurgitatum
A dumb
loud fit

Oh no don’t stop! Oh no don’t quit
Verse again for us!
Sing again – do sing!

Slide bow, pluck string!
Sing again – hey, sing!

Son, you, your father
Stands at his ageless post
Low’ring the Tower’s lord
Once, heave, twice, heave
Down the glass throne slow goes

And you, hold your flute and pipe
And you, you must needs blow!
So blow, son, blow
As your father heaves
And bid the king to go
Once, twice, all through
Five times
Blow your pipe
A symbol
Of the taste
The touch
and all
those bring
A symbol
of this dumb show

Look none of ye’ upon the knives
In the air, those words of shame
Historic, once cut
Twice made
The stitches born
Of the blade

A secret
No shame
A king
Is just a name
His followers
Are but the same!

Inverted
And so turned
They make the king
And give him his powers’
flame

Grudge not he
You List’ners
That cracked man who spins the wheel
Once round it goes
And then again
Slowly to reveal

The chamber’d throne of the
Bony King, descending he –
Headless, oh so slow driven
Down from paneled heights
Toward the awestruck crowd

Once the wheel turns
Twice the wheel goes round
Slowly now you father there
Helped there by his fluting son

And twist now – the strings
Blow hoh
And snap now – the flutes
Oh blow, son! Blow!
And turn now – the drums
Blow oh

So goes the throne

Suspended
Felled
Smashed to the ground
The gin with blood does mix
And bones mix so with stony dust
The choir’s circle
In quarters splits

Shadows fall across the hall
And all are now bowing
Monsters all, across the hall
And, supine, they crawl within
Licking they the
Blood and broken glass
And bone
The remnants of the king
Ageless they
And monstrous so

Surrender
To my whims

The king is dead!
A-hoo the day-o hoo.

Long live the firstwrought king!

Read the Lyric from the Beginning