Hymn for the Church of Crows

I decided to try and write a hymn, this was the result. I'm not sure how many school assemblies will pop it in their hymn sheets after Make Me A Channel Of Your Peace. But, then, this is Greville and the Tombstones so I'm not that fussed. This is for the congregation of the Church of Crows.

This is:

Hymn for the Church of Crows:

Knocking at the church door:

“I want to talk to you about Jesus”

I’m not waving here.

I’m not waving.

My patched up prayer is leaking.

 

They say my body is a copy every 7 years.

But each copy is slightly more imperfect.

I am not already damaged enough?

 

Jesus, why am I tested,

When I’m set up to fail?

Told not to touch temptation,

then it’s placed on the tip of my finger?

You know,

I’m going to ask Satan for the answer.

 

Preacher at the church door,

I want to talk to you about Jesus.

I’m not waving here.

I’m not waving.

My patched up prayer is leaking.

 

In this church yard I’ll soon turn quiet.

Under letters of stone, my life done.

Can I not live what life remains?

 

Jesus, why am I living,

when life isn’t too fair?

Told to be pious, devout and pure,

then reward me when I’m boxed under?

You know,

I’m going to ask Satan for the answer.

 

Through stained-glass windows,

I want to talk to you about Jesus

I’m not waving here.

I’m not waving.

My patched up prayer is leaking.

 

Cruel gloom exists as our executioner.

After my Judgement comes a verdict.

Will my defence to the jury be read?

 

Jesus, why have I faith,

When you don’t believe it?

Jesus, you don’t get my situation

Jesus, I think maybe Satan may be kinder.

You know,

I’m going to ask Satan for the answer.

The Wishing Tomb. Pt. 2

It is a little known fact that Chris Rea's seminal rock record Road To Hell was in two parts.
It could be listened to separately or conjunctively.
The first was a Americana gothic piece of  Middlesbrough horror, the second a straight laced rock beat.

The Wishing Tomb Pt. 1 was the gothic horror.

This is The Wishing Tomb Pt. 2. This is the beat.


Minnie Mouse by Julia-Green

This is:

The Wishing Tomb Pt. 2:



 

Like the light bulb buzzing at the end of a long windowless corridor,

I flick into and out of life.

At once solace and direction and panic and confusion.

Come for me, flee for me.

Nothing but a glint of a glimpse of a moth’s fluttered glance.

A magic tempts another.

 

Settle yourself at the feet of the tomb, it’s a long way to travel,

Rest here in the tranquil.

Loss is worshipped when it chooses a glitter form

As ruin can fool as warm.

Listen to the orbit of the moon, each mare introduced

Save, don’t be seduced.

 

I say of my loss: do not let these snake hips of mine distract you,

Left hand believes in poetry:

Fingers like reeds yielding to an evening breeze,

Conducting sign of the Cross,

All the while a forked tongue lashes at your collar bone,

Tasting the salty nape.

 

Daylight is fading now, or is it the night thawing from the sky,

Either one, it is welling with trauma.

The limp, searing and relentless inevitable

washes like Shore surf, rattling pebbles.

This naked mortality is flat out, glittering on the cold table,

snapped continues

 

The pillars speak soft: overwhelmed, dear boy, simply overwhelmed,

It’s alright: we comprehend.

And even if we do not and it is not: it matters you not.

Be lured, be repulsed.

To this tomb both as adversary and testament to motion.

Wishes walk no further: Place of my grief.

 

 

Das Wunschgab von Greville Tombs Der Tragödie erster Teil

The wonderful @tellthee has translated the latest from Greville and the Tombstones.

This is: Das Wunschgab von Greville Tombs Der Tragödie erster Teil

To read the original, here it is

Many, many thanks to @tellthee for digging a layer of heavy depth to this piece.

photo by @tellthee

The Wishing Tomb. Pt. 1

This is a track that is slightly more dense than what the pop kids a usually used to. Here there are few rhymes to be found. It even struggled to be named.

Greville and the Tombstones fans are still waiting for the pool-party hit anthem of the summer. But those who adore Greville and the Tombstones know that this track is as close as one is going to be.

In any case, if Greville and the Tombstones was sound-tracking your summer pool party, then it would be awesome.

And the pool would be filled by tears.

And there would be no petting allowed, but long doleful stares and silent prayers to be noticed by those you have special affections for in the deep end.

Anyway, this is the sound of Greville and the Tombstone's summer.


This is:

The Wishing Tomb. Pt. 1

Really could have done with anyone getting out of anything alive.

 

Watch dust motes trickle on a sun shard stream, all is in vain.

Consider the jewel of a breath, consider the paltry matter a bauble.

Screw the tap but know congealing blood tumult laps in the darkness.

Disturbed coil of cobalt night unwinds into the settling blonde wheat field.

Spirit, fragile as water film tension, gently heaves top the twilight lake.

Time leaves Fate softly suffering and bubbling in its wake.

The distress is warm. Warm on the body.

Fresh shine washes on the back. On the front. Pressing from above.

 

There is never any comfort in endings: Endings are snapped continues.

 

I thought this was a lacquered stop, but it is perfectly permeable despondence.

I thought this was the bottom, but it is a Mezzanine.

Thunder barrel clouds cut, lightning bolts lash on the scene.

The immenseness outside this chamber creaks but remains unseen.

Wretched is this monument to my muse of Tragedy, sculpted by familiar hands, ruined to stone.

Still is this tomb which weathers against all under an electrocute sky: place of my grief.