So the first song was the main song and we spent more time on that. this second song was done in a bit of a rush because she had more musicians turning up so i hurried out.
So I got to Mornington Station and went the wrong way well of course I would I always do. Unfamiliar places, easy to get lost. The studio was in the basement of a huge house, very nice and relaxed. And Felix made me a cup of tea with a marsh mallow and off we went.
Well today is a bit exciting because I am going into a studio to record some songs. Woke up this morning . . . First thing to do is feed Katy the cat of course.
I’ve been practising all week on the songs but still can’t remember the words to the songs in entirety, but maybe I can do them a verse at a time. I’m pretty terrified, it’s been ages since I’ve done anything musically with other people and I’ve never been in a studio before. My appointment is at 2.30 at the bassment studios run by Felix of Tigersonic, Bassment Studio, something. It seems to be one of the few studios allowed to be open during the epidemic. I’ll take my phone and try and get a few photos. Its been a long time to get to this stage in my songwriting, a long struggle. I’m hopeful and blasé at the same time. Katy the cat has just finished gorging on her cat food and is on her way out. I will do a follow up tonight.
What I have learned about Adolf Hitler so far is that
He was a messiah to his people
He planned a 1000 year third Reich
He attempted to rule the world
He tried to destroy the Jews (Judeans)
In the bible, Jesus Christ is given a kingdom to rule the earth
With his followers for a thousand years
I also learn that an anti-Christ is expected to be a religious man.
In the bible days it was different to today and that the main enemy in the bible was mostly an empire or government, e.g. Rome, Egypt and Babylon.
Gods government is a government to rule the earth, so along these lines the anti-Christ maybe is to be a government also and what better example in history has there been than Hitler and the third Reich.
So the question is this, was Adolf Hitler the antichrist and if so was he a fulfilment of bible prophecy?
I want governments to be truthful
And never to tell lies
I want the government be be fair
And to work hard with both sides
I want lies to be outlawed
And penalties applied
I want truth to be upheld
And leaders to be wise
I want love in the high chair
To settle the disputes
I want love to be right there
And to give rebukes
Because the sins of rule are many
They fall down like hail
It’s difficult to keep warm
When rulership starts to fail
And not to harm another
In the name of any law
And to love your neighbour
Without keeping score
Daniel Marc Hooper was born in Luton, (Bedfordshire). He became a nationally known figure in 1996 after spending a week in a complex series of tunnels dug in the path of a new extension to the A30 road in Fairmile, Devon, resisting attempts at eviction by police. Peter Faulding was called in as a confined space rescue specialist to safely remove Swampy and a number of other protesters locked on deep inside the network of manmade tunnels. Several people took part in the protest, but Swampy was the last one evicted. The magistrate passing sentence on him was David Cameron’s mother. Swampy was originally from Newbury, Berkshire, the site of the protest over the Newbury bypass, and he then lived with his parents in Hazlemere, Buckinghamshire.
Hooper’s subsequent fame included an appearance on the BBC comedy current affairs quiz Have I Got News for You, on 18 April 1997, when he briefly became the show’s youngest ever panelist. In 1997, he took part in another tunnel protest intended to prevent the building of a second runway at Manchester Airport, and has also been involved with the Trident nuclear submarine protest camp at Faslane, Scotland.
In 2006, Hooper was living with his girlfriend and their three children in a yurt, a dome-shaped tent in Tipi Valley, a remote New Age commune at Cwmdu near Llandeilo in West Wales. In 2007 the Sunday Mirror newspaper reported that he was taking part in the climate change protests at Heathrow Airport. Hooper’s presence on the protesters’ site was dependent on his keeping a low profile, so his celebrity status would not detract from the protest. As of 2013, he was still living in a commune in Wales with his family, working for the Forestry Commission and running marathons and half marathons.
In September 2019 Hooper took part in an Extinction Rebellion protest, attaching himself to a concrete block at the entrance to the Valero Energy fuel refinery in Pembrokeshire. He was arrested at Jones Hill Wood in Buckinghamshire in October 2020, having occupied a treehouse to prevent trees being chopped down since they are on the route of High Speed 2.
All around me was the sound
Of water going down a hole
Up in the sky was an angel with a key
Can you stop that dreadful noise I said?
He put the key into my mind and twisted it
The sound of water was gone
My emotions are the gravel
With hundreds of horses galloping across it
If I close my inner eyes, I can see them
Their manes are women’s hair
There is a grave that will save you
And there is a grave that will not
The grave that will save you
Is like a glass case in a museum
And people will come to see you
And they will say nice things
In the grave that will not save you
You’ll lie there in the darkness
Wondering when night will come
- When I lived in the hills, the contours became like strange human forms.
I expected them to get to their feet and run after me.
In some places, there was no streetlights and there my fear grew like spines all over my body.
In time I realised the contours did not move and that perhaps they were asleep dreaming of the world to come.
There was one hill that I conquered all alone and I stood on top in a shirt of bells.
The evening sky was a glass of spilled wine and I experienced the sadness of the unknown conqueror.
Once I dreamed I was a celebrity covered in a coat of anecdotes all speaking at once like talking wood beetles.
I said stop your noise and go back to your places in the skirting board.
Once I saw a grand black limousine in the night. It had driven over a bridge and hurried towards
Mum and dad are home said the swans, the ducks and the Canadian geese that lived so well upon the serpentine.
The courier delivered a bucket of tiredness into which I put my head.
It felt like hot pins in water.
In my room, the air shrank to the size of a feral cat that I fought with all day long.
A woman shaped like a gold flying saucer rigged up the ropes for a puppet show.
The dark winter night, not wearing shoes, fell like a giant purple balloon that squashed everything.
The ladybird flew away
In the supermarket, the rodent ice skaters twitched their whiskers.
A house build walked out of the automatic doors made from millions of flying ants.
The security man was replaced by a teenage girl with smiley face in a sou’wester.
The pandemic was represented by a surgical mask that was a trillionaire superbug shield.
Breathy whispers came from a vegetable stall.
Her eyes were like two frozen peas in a sword fight and children were led out into the flute wind and into the hungry canal as the coots looked on.
Suddenly grappling hooks shot out of everyone’s eye that stood on the bridge and anchored them into the paving stones. No one moved as the world licked its paws.
A giant octopus flew overhead squirting eight pesticide cans into the immobile crowd.
A real surrealist looks like a fish on a bicycle.
He opens a can of worms with a sharp gun.
He visits the Ganges every new moon with a garden rake.
And he turns oil into crepe paper with a wave of his hat.
But, according to Freud, this is only possible in the comics or a Harry Potter book.
I went outside into the garden with the cat. We went together to listen to the voice of the garden. It stood there in a black spectral overcoat within this there was a fountain that had no feet. Its head was an octopus under a hood. This is particularly effective in the twilight. A rope was hanging from the roof. It sounded like a dragon had landed there and was roaring in anger. The cat did not like it. It stared upwards with a face like a flat fish and ran back indoors and I quickly followed it.
I was overwhelmed by section X
The judge, in a paratrooper’s helmet, had made the preparations.
It was a nightmare of sexual sludge throwing that she tried to share with her chauffer
Suspended beneath a cloud I was dragged through the arena.
A few hyenas came to watch but the whole thing descended the steps like a bouncing nightmare.
Sparkplugs and other plastic roses like to eat book titles.
Spanners do well in a teapot.
If you do not try to find out who you are, how will you know who you are?
You will dream that you are Napoleon but when someone else with the same dream comes along you will get annoyed.
It’s best to put on your braces and try and perform in front of others wo you are.
This is the valve of playacting and it is best done when you are a child.
A child who playacts has the best chance of finding out who they it really is.
The new heart wants to go for a ride. It will consider anywhere.
The new heart is a pool within a pool but it has life’s will to expand within it.
I have never seen a travel brochure for the heart that doesn’t involve the mind as well, the two are inseparable.
In times of pandemic, the new heart is also pandemic with desires to travel and to keep travelling.
But how can it be that with heart surgery the new heart forgets its past life.
Now for the case of the lost compass dividers. I can find them clearly in my mind but these ones I cannot use. But the real ones by coincidence are lost.
Did they just walk away? Have they gone to bed? Why are they not still where I put them.
Of all the things you can lose compass dividers are not one of them because they stick into the fabric, they grip the side of crevices in the furnished room. They reflect the torch light from beneath the sofa. They straddle the edges of things like stick insects riding a carrot.
Perhaps my mind has eaten them up! I feared it might happen they have disappeared into my head like 99.9 percent of all the things I have ever seen in the world including the bazaar in Istanbul. Perhaps they are there now, walking down the labyrinthine market passing the coffee pots and the silk carpets looking for the way home. I will become a lighthouse and cast out beams of light to guide them back home and then they might reappear standing on the back of one of the chairs like a polar explorer
A god was watching the whole population yet a girl accused him of watching her.
His eye was so big that you could fit all of the darkness into it.
The girl I suppose was one speck of light that never expanded into a galaxy.
This girl paid the price for her arrogance by being turned into a swan.
A man built a castle to keep all the evil in the world. He had enough materials for the whole structure except for missing one brick.
The town planners came along and seeing that it was missing one brick said that it did not meet with regulations and it was to be dismantled.
As they began to dismantle the castle all the evil in the world was release back into the world.
When one of the town planners met with an unfortunate death, the remaining ones found the missing brick to the castle in his new house. The good people of the village used it as the cornerstone of the new prison and locked the town planners up inside it
The government’s version of democracy is lie waves in a sack.
Votes are paper hearts.
True democracy was born in a bar with the six jolly ploughmen on a Friday night.
I held a conversation on the phone in the kitchen with the volume knob of my ears turned down.
One hour later the same conversation took place 10 meters above and six meters to the side as a reflection in someone’s window.
Later on, I saw a dog outside dragging my conversation out of a bin. It now resembled a joint of meat made of rubber and it made a noise like feedback from an electric violin.
Dreams from a life story are seldom eaten with soup
I still continue to write as the steamroller goes over me
Some voices still make demands on me to sink the titanic
So I long to live in the land of the turtle dove and freedom
Dressed in a rain mac
With a howitzer on my back
As the tornado rips apart my spine
Alone in outer space
Separated from the human race
And losing track of time
But she comes up to me and says
It’s time to go
Sorry for your death
And welcome home
Only one person lives in that skyscraper
Each morning he climbs to the top and prays
Each afternoon a bolt of lightning knocks him
Off of the top and he falls to the ground
Somewhere in the sunset a group
Of bad spirits are throwing the dice and laughing
My thoughts are like a torrent
I must wait a day for the rain to stop
My eyesight receives a projection of the world
In a full colour isometric plan – My heart
I do not reprove it for being crushed by reality
If instead of getting baptized every newborn baby
is given the ingredients of poetry
Then at the nursery, you might be surprised
To hear babies reciting verse and getting drunk
Bravo you would say. Excellent
The marble lady
was also a butterfly
that comes in and out
of the window
The siege machine
set fire to the kings throne
The marble lady
only spoke once
and then become a butterfly
The siege machine
was dragged to the place
where her voice was misidentified
as a fallen leaf that never existed
Later on the museum
closed down and all these items
were put in storage
The famous actor was asked
What are you rebelling against?
His famous reply was
What have you got?
I looked up at the sky
Very high up in the clouds
Were the branches of a tree
And they come from across the ocean
We walk in avenues of candles
We walk through a guard of honour
There are many side paths that re dug up
And there are many guards with shovels
And there are many dead men along the avenues of candles
And there are many widows under our overcoats
That do not remember us
The excitement is a solid
I can make things with it
It is not exclusive like a fiery meteorite
It is a memory that has returned from the earth
I have crossed out these lines so heavily that I must move on
Or erase the ink in my tears, night is here, sleep now
Bm Am Em Am
I’m living in prison England – with my cat
The postman leaves the mail – on the mat
I’m stamped OHMS – in black
Feed me I’m a TV – in my flat
I’m living in prison England, – The sky is blue
I’m followed by a satellite – I have the flu
A tracker dog lays down – inside my pone
They like to think I’ll always – be alone
In prison England
I live in prison England – by degrees
I rot in prison England – like elm trees
The ocean and the sea – cage me in
I suppose I’m in real good – company
I live in prison England – in a scare
Masks are the most popular – thing to wear
The thruppenny bit portcullis – tells the truth
I’m limited to the things – I can do
In prison England
In our collective imaginations
Lies the fate of our nations
The anthem of the year sets in
We are our own victims
Choking on smoke from our own – air holes
Regardless of our own – immortal souls
Why not leave the car – in a jam
And go down to hell – with the man
In prison England
I live in prison England, – I have no psyche
They know they can shut me down – when they like
Who dares to open up – a box of lies?
There are no forks, there are – only knives
In prison England
The bull is growing fat – in this drought
The walls will explode – he’ll charge out
The clouds will turn red – in the fire
The wind will blow the weather vane – on the spire
Of prison England
Serve your time with me then maybe you’ll see
You can never get away; you will never be free
In prison England
PDF of song
Note: Song is in the beginning stage. On one hand the chords are repetitive and on the other hand maybe not.
The rose scar
on her hand
to the paw
the blood flow
like a bed of roses
has opened up a door
the elderly mother has moved
to the seaside town
blue of dreams
but the daughter girds her loins
and rises like a seagull in the wind
she has two brothers
who were like werewolves
but they had long ago
left their vocation
but still she would wake up at night
to see claw marks on the wall
she said that her home-town was empty
its lights at night were like silent glowing birds
that there was no fairground anymore
of her childhood memories
it was sad to see her so sad
and at how we all can feel so exiled
The thinker of comic strip poetry
Has left them on his dusty mental mantelpiece
There is too much pain in the sky
Searching for a ball of string
Before he realises it the comics are laughing
And he is in the back of a car being taken to prison
This plain air in his mind
Is waiting for a train to pass through
Then he can go back to his litter tray
And lay with his alphabet
Do they realise that this plain air
Is in a bucket buried in the sand?
Finally, he realises that the pigeon is not coming home
Is he now afraid to create comic strips?
His comic strip thoughts frighten him a little
The tip of the iceberg is connected down below to the ocean
He is like a wooden monkey on a stick
He scrapes the sky with his fingernails
What is he expecting from his newfound plain air of mind
He is spread out along the edge of the farmer’s field
Should he abandon his space capsule?
And swim to the moon?
This is all to do with the neglect in his face
And the way that the carpet disintegrates over time
The welcome mat smells of the dust of time
The astronaut sees a golden being trapped between two worlds
He can no longer delay his new comic strips
A little white mouse calls out to him through time
Instead of real people, he offers you comic characters
Instead of real feelings he gives you mime