I shattered the light

I shattered the light and there I saw her
– long hair like a waterfall.

I shattered the night and there – looked for her,
for long, long years I called.

and like a schoolboy from the lower grade
I searched the classrooms in your heart
like a bird from the frozen grave
I flew, but then it fell apart, within me.

I shattered the light and there I saw her
– long hair like a waterfall.

I shattered the night and there searched everywhere
along the endless ruined wall.

Here in my broken tattooed mind

Here in my isolation with my broken tattooed mind
Across the road from paradise with the love I’m trying to find
I see the marriage in Cana from the stop across the street
As if time itself had hit me in my drowning broken teeth.

Yessan,  England, you’re a long way down the road
Way ahead, with your windows on the shoulders of the poor
Your rolling stock don’t pass this way no more
And I stand here on this crossroads screaming floor.

I’m looking up to heaven I suppose that’s what it is
I’m seeing the kind of vision that your grandfather slept with
Halleluiah, Britannia, with Jerusalem at your shore
But you cling to the economy and to war.

I pick up my right foot I leave wedding songs behind
I pick up my left and go where England cannot find
The party guests dancing or the miraculous vats of wine
Across the road in another patch of time.

Halleluiah, Britannia, with Jerusalem at your shore
But you cling to economy and to war.

Yes and Halleluiah, Britannia, with Jerusalem at you shore
You struggle to survive with the world’s fast changing law
Your song thrush sings bravely on your highest telephone wire.
The jet plane comes screaming through broken cathedral spire.

Halleluiah, Britannia, with Jerusalem at your shore
But you cannot follow those ancient feet no more.

It’s significant

It’s significant; the eyeless marble white statue of Homer was in my bed last night.
I woke up, and I was his statue, plying a saxophone in the street.

The search for his eyes began by cutting shapes out of the wind and burning the wind in an oven until a baby appeared.

I am that baby, I cannot talk or see now until you snap a shaft of sunlight out of the sky and pierce my heart with it.

It’s definite, that poet gypsy had stolen me with promises of healing, and I wander down a wind tunnel in the clouds like a flaming white horse.

The quest now centres on the sin of Adam that burns in my liver like a flaming heart.

This great blot on my spirit is as ripe as an exploding apple filled with crude oil and has a life of its own, and has lived longer than I have.

I see the words of man disappear into a whirlwind in the sky wherein a stranger appears to be eating every word ever said by the whole of humanity; words that have been, and words that will be – devoured.

A red carpet appears at my right side and I fall. The blood red miasma of a stranger kind of love, sweet as the nectar of wild flowers, clings to my side.

Get Your Own Salt from the Sea

Lyrics to Song

1. I’ll sack the locksmith who sold me the key
End my lessons in psychology too
Stop middlemen and salesmen from looking me up
I’ve heard all their promises before you see
There are saints and heroes knocking on my door
Don’t know what they came to me for
And let me tell you good people if you want to be free
You should get your own salt from the sea

2. I’d be across the channel to a foreign country
Cause there’s too many people who make problems for me
With their webs and their systems of economy
So if you’re bell should start ringing
And you wonder who it could be
It’ll be this sailor trying to be free
I’ll be there on your doorstep as happy as can be
I’ll be there like the salt from the sea

3. Once we’d bake our own bread and sow our own seed
Spin our own clothes for our own needs
Rear our own animals too I believe
Make our own peace with eternity
But the lords and the ladies just weren’t amused
They wanted the riches of life
When the best pleasures would simply be
To get our own salt from the sea

4. Sing your excuses till you’re black and blue
But I don’t have to listen at all to you
Your promises don’t help they’re nothing new
Your just deceiving yourself too
Your creation of problems just isn’t fun
Can’t you see what you’ve done?
So it’s back to the earth I’ll eventually be
To get my own salt from the sea

A PDF of music to the first idea and an audio file.

Get your Own Salt from the Sea

This is the one with my newer melody

get your own salt from the sea new melody

I wrote this in about 1970. I had a real struggle trying to understand the melody. Then it occurred to me that it originates in the folk song Widdecombe Fair but seems to develop a little differently. Any way I did try to write a more original tune for it which I can add here too.
©2019michaelaitken

The Marble Pillars

Somewhere between the marble pillars
Are the shadows of the normal people.
The normal people eat the shadows:
The deep purple oblong pieces of pixel ghost,
That are the deaths of money
And the loss of life-memory.

Somewhere between the marble pillars
Are the torn shadows of people
Who struggle everyday of their lives
With the mark of a government on their shoulder,
While plagues, floods and wars
Come out of the tin marked “beans”.

While out of fear
you hide behind your mothers back
As Leviathan emerges from the seething sea
To do battle with the sky god

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Good Morning

 

My exciting morning. Pretty much the same thing every morning. Backstop and Brexit. Looming disaster. But feeding the cat has priority. Painting is of me and my new born brother in about 1962. The song I’m presently working on first saw light of day in my bedroom, on Mossley Estate, Bloxwich in about 1970. No photo of me though, don’t want to scare anybody away.

There’s a Blue Plaque Stuck on the Wall

There’s a blue plaque stuck on the wall
Proclaiming what the great man’s done.
His name was Hiram Maxim
And he invented the machine gun.

He lived here in Hatton Garden
Where the rich chose their pearls
But at night you hear the soldiers scream
In the bullet loving world

Be silent little street of London
Be quiet and see what he’s done
He invented modern warfare
He invented the machine gun

It cut down soldiers on all sides
And put civilisation on the run
The inventor lived here in Hatton Garden
Where the rich people buy their fun

Where playboys come to buy jewellery
From merchants of the gem so dear
You’ll see the plaque to this fearful name
Saying: Hiram Maxim lived here.

(Lyrics for an anti war song)

In England Blue plaques are fixed to the walls of buildings to show where famous people lived.