Hallelujah The Hills

the king rounded up all the insurgents
listened closely to their gibberish
for some sign of an omen or portent
all night — all week

soon he had collected all of their wisdom
into a book he titled so
A Guide To The World’s Most Fantastic Monsters
and I read it searching for some new feeling but
the monster that you run from doesn’t exist

collect your cobwebs
saw off your antlers
between blizzards we are free
the front lawn’s hosting the strangest vine growth
that will in time entangle all we see

devastating news-hype hand delivered
via secret hymns
the might come back club’s
rites of recall are etched out on the bones of these limbs

open your kimono you hassle magnet
let me see what all the kids are killing for
consulting the Fates from far northern states
with escape routes scrawled on their back doors

fanatics follow the freedom of fandom
hitting straw men with plastic swords
rip up the floor boards
find what you’ve come for
you’re a guest they’ll begrudgingly endure

I was in the kitchen with the grieving uncle
and a drinking game that only he played
so in tender spirits he went up on the rooftop
to chant for the flying chariot brigade

To our amazement
out came the horses
who’s commanding? hell if I know
the might come back club’s rules of order
tell us in this case we must row
so start rowing

here we are where we thought we began
lost and high and burnt out with no back up plan
and it’s such a disgrace to leave all these kids weeping in the van

so we’re traversing North Dakota
using only cartoon commerce maps to navigate
but there’s always an unlabeled tape
lying in an unmarked box
in an ill-kept archive
and can you guess who that tape is keeping alive?

the first thing to know is that you can never go back there
the second thing to know is that I’m the one who sent you the dream
in the basement of your house oh sunny Jean
where you writhed and you coughed up and you screamed

call the cops
put the gurus in charge
cuz here comes an instructing hand
to place upon your lack of plans
and lead you to the tapes in the garage
can you guess which false prophet is still at large?

you fell in love with the woman sent here to kill you
and now you’ll kill the people that sent her to you
she’s the sweetest assassin in the states
has a tattoo of the motto of The Fates

you were brought here by design and now you’ll live until you die
you were brought here by design and now you’ll live until you die
you were brought here by design but don’t take that as a sign
you were brought here by design and now you’ll live until you die

you’ll spend the next year always looking over your shoulder
and combing through the paper for some elusive clue
you press rewind, and then you press play, then you pause
it’s time to hear what you thought you lost

if he’s the singer then I’m okay
let’s walk him out in awkward rain
and shed the vials and catch the corpse
it comes again through stain glass doors

can it spread out? To the street?
blank passports in the Pennsylvania heat
well I’m the one who made you that way
here it comes again unchained and unchanged

but then serious American composers
drift into the room
the world had not heard of them
said they arrived too soon

now we’re making a mess of the mountain
and trashing our rooms
they call us heirs to the emptiness
still we whistle their tune

I heart the great lakes
I shot the son
I wore the blindfold
I fled at dawn
and caught the visions
while they’re inert
it dignifies your bold cohorts

does it commute? the sentence steep?
22 years on the Massachusetts street
well neither pill nor poison control
can prop up a lifetime dig us out this hole

but then serious American composers
drift into the room
the world had not heard of them
said they arrived too soon

now we’re making a mess of the mountain
and trashing our rooms
they call us heirs to the emptiness
still we whistle their tune
so you’re living like a classical code word
spoken as one heard
it uttered from the podium
and brought down to herd
and what you should have known in the beginning
you won’t know till the end
that the way to the exodus
is back from where we came

keys to the house
a map of your room
there’s nothing left to kill
there’s nothing more than bring my body home

deliberate sons brace for the storm
redact the sinful word
reduce the thought and bring your body home

Allied Lions!
Allied Lions!
Allied Lions!
everything’s a dream, except for this moment we’re in now

let’s examine our pov’s
that might keep us from doa
to pulse out sos
it’s not enough to count on tba

turn a tanker on ten
treat the girlfriend’s friends as friends
reduce this patriot
I can’t seem to keep my focus clean

Allied Lions!
Allied Lions!
Allied Lions!
everything’s a dream, except for this moment we’re in now

keys to the house
a map of your room
there’s nothing left to kill
there’s nothing more than bring my body home

Allied Lions!
Allied Lions!
Allied Lions!
everything’s a dream, except for this moment we’re in now

you’ve got to know where you come from
you’ve got to know where you’re going

it’s true, the signal implodes
it goes where she goes
the cogs all march along in perfect single file
from beyond the grave where dead men relay
synchronistic poems that call for civil unrest

and here are the plans that you tied into knots
and here are the props that were everything but
so dancing with statues you sweetened the plot
and this I bring to you
and this I bring through you

for days we replayed the play
on stage after stage
but never could decide on an intended meaning
the town was corrupt, demanded of us
a semi private showing for the master’s daughter

and here is the scene where I kill every god
and bury them nameless in cemetery plots
deliver the news to the public at large
and this I bring to you
and this I bring through you

we walked up to wind chime mountain
to bury our old postcards
she said: “I need to tell you
about the 322 people you meet in purgatory
and how I got sick of all these guardian angels
with more problems than me.”

years before we lived in the hotel we both worked within
where she attempted to write the great Canadian review
of the great American novel
a request from the 1st edition’s introduction:
the playwright wishes that you harangue the actors
with pyramid scheme pitches during the encore.
also a real gun will be randomly fired into the audience
during intermission.
please enjoy.

the curtain came down and the crowd rushed the stage
we fled towards the airport through gunsmoke and haze
our passports revoked, the embassy razed
and this they brought to me, and this they brought through me

I can see you in my telescope
that punctures time like a needle through paper
you’re washing dishes during the civil war
as your husband’s stabbing your dad
they never met so it’s not even realized
how heavy truly the moment
and in the present in a shopping line
my sugar refuses to scan

oh, the time has come
to crash right through the gates of ivory towers
we must find a way
to topple all the thrones

you were right this light it comes from the night
and takes the shame out of being so latent
everything that’s been scheduled for you
you call random and sleep through the days
so you invest in every angle and hinge
hoping there’s something to swing from or hide in
but now there’s nothing but a precipice
and an old song to sing through the night

oh, the time has come
to crash right through the gates of ivory towers
we must find a way
to topple all the thrones

oh the time has come!
oh the time has come!

can we quake these tectonic plates?
would it shake the street that you live on?
portraits tumble to the hardwood floor
leaving dents and impressions of me

I fall asleep on an empty highway
as my truck crashes into the woodlands
my feet are caught but I reach the flare gun
shoot it off but it’s the 4th of July

the subpoenas always came in unmarked cruisers
the fonts were bold and told us what to do
the schematics we stole were impossible to decipher
so let’s go downtown and see this whole thing through

I would feel much better if this day had narration
as we’re living out some archetype clean and blue
there are moments here that don’t come from this station
there are lifetimes here repeated ‘til they’re true

casually break my fingers so I can’t work the key
the master painters all look ashamed
they don’t know the thrill of a jukebox fade
church bells ringing out commercials for Jesus
the future ex-girlfriends all promise to leave us

I dreamt of this well
bringing you back to live in burnt out motels
it’s my junk mail dream to turn this car around
and drive back down to where my body was found
they say I was focused on slowing down time
hands inside the clock when I was hit from behind

there’s a possibility
this predictability
will eventually grow wild and bend
then I’ll know
I never meant to meet you
but that’s what the sequence puts you through

curse this mind control
making me leak these ideas so very slow
I’m an excerpt of an abridged serial
you never had a job so menial
to keep track of track of distractions that impede my path
and pinpoint their origin and slice them in half

but there’s a possibility
this predictability
will eventually grow wild and bend
for better or worse
I never called the cab a hearse
I answered questions with a pause
and tried to break what you defend
but ended up drifting far from shore
washed up in some foreign land
and tried to find a way back home
but when I did you shrugged and said
here’s where the echo sequence ends

oh we crashed in the ash
and then the cash of the titans blew out to sea
but you, you broke out the map
lead us out of the country
through the haunted hallway

I strayed during the ticker tape parade
you were gathering blank tape
for the never ceasing project of the documentarian

my dear, I could drift into backyards
during nights of no moonlight
and never reappear
you know that something
would grab a hold of me slowly
make love to me only
and pull me deep underground

forever is incomprehensible
but still attainable
with a little luck, a lawyer, and a fine tuned radio

the stop light changes but nothing else does
it kept me waiting just because
so delete all your dead friends from you cell phone
it keeps you inside that certain zone: home
Om Gam Ganapataye Namaha

I feel it / I feel it / I feel it / I feel it
a devil / a devil / a devil / a devil
or an angel / an angel / an angel / an angel
nearer and nearer and nearer and nearer

the phone line is broken
the tapes are all erased
someone’s at the door
you know his wares have all been laced
you better hope you die before me

if you take it as a compliment
you’re out of your tree
the horses are all ready
and they know as well as me
that you better hope you die before me

everybody knows you climb a ladder so well
impressive demonstrations of your speech and spells
but you better hope you die before me

so dress me up in wires
I’ll plug into the feed
of blasted out basement shows
bursting at the seams
and you better hope you die before me

the house is infested with
with pests of every kind
but at least they have the courtesy
to stay out of my mind
you’re broken, alone, down, and undreamed

you can bang on every wind chime
or light a torch for me
or magnify your tiny soul
with a microscope from me
and you better hope you die before me

I miss so many people
it carries back
there is no re-arrival
no loophole trap

explain it backwards for me
and I’ll be your sweetheart
without deceit
no more wars
I’m a big fan
it’s a sinking house
we’ve just begun

the fog was lifting out of her mouth
when I awoke
a fire escape
or a water arrival
we’re just bicycle spokes

churning away the time
shooting it off to deep space
well goodbye time
we loved you well
you’re still alive
in the videotape
and the child’s poem
we’ve just begun

take off your jacket
and black tie
collapse into a dream
where the house lifts up
to the tree tops
and the clouds begin

then I make a parachute
out of the bedding
and make my stance
by falling down
without deceit
no more wars
it’s a sinking house
well goodbye time
we loved you well
we’ve just begun
we’ve just begun

jammed by these satellite signals
our path now encumbered by clouds
our secret plans spoken out loud
the devil’s in the details but
no one really knew that till now

you’ve got Everett wearing x-ray glasses
trying to get off in the sand
while Casey makes a map of the land
we get beat up and punched out
beat up and punched out
beat up and punched out
yeah, we almost get gone

all I need are 8 cups of coffee
some beer and my cigarettes
we’ll steer the ship towards the rocky inlets
behold the cargo in the water — an ocean full of country duets

“kill me, Captain Courage, I love you
but my paper pilots are caught in a trap”
and nothing’s gonna bring them back
so the obits in the paper detail everything
that slips through the cracks

treat me like the probation officer you never had
i’ll get you work in a book-binding warehouse
but if you fall across the wayside I really can’t
be called to repeat what I once screamed

all these pilots becoming part of my life
as my old self goes under the knife
the doctor says, “don’t worry, cuz
I know this procedure like I know the back of my wife.”
And that’s pretty damn well

jammed by these satellite signals
our path now encumbered by clouds
our secret plans spoken out loud
the devil’s in the details but
no one really knew that till now