Laying these here to rest

If Greville and the Tombstones had an EP of rarities and B-sides, it might well be called Laying These Here to Rest.

But, of course, there are no rarities and B-sides, only poems I began to get me to the point of being able to say something else. Or were written but never quite enough to be deemed finished. Or have, until this, never been published on the band blog before. The following are notes and starts and stops of things written completists might like to read here in this collection.

Please enjoy the misfit things.







Hymn for anxiety

I’m living life according to my zodiac 

I’m dealing blackjack at the card table 

Stopping my hands from being idle 

I’m in control. 

Because I’m doing all my exercises 

Taking medication detailed on the label 

A caw as comforting as it is demented 

I’ll tell you straight 

It sings to you.

I’m burying deep on my big mistake 

Failures exist only if they escape 

And they won’t 

Because I’m emotionally stable

I’ll hunt them down 

If they do.

When you figure out it’s all meaningless 

You’ve no fear leaving behind all this.

Bundled up in heartfelt anxiousness 

Because we like death 

Well, at least that’s true. 

Holes can be dug for all sorts of causes 

Echoes appear as dead voice noises

I’m only a mourner 

Just like you.

Rembrandt has nothing new to say 

You say you won but you’ve no stomach for the conflict. 

Best hope is if you lose yourself to never be told it. 

Say what you like when you don’t believe in it. 

When you’ve got a hammer every nails’ hit. 

Buy into it and buy into it and buy into it. 

Fall for it and fall for it and fall for it. 

Get over it, get over it, get over it. 

Complicit, complicit, complicit. 

Guess that’s just the way of it.

A martyr. 

Bone silent mother. 

Silences like no other. 

Skins, grind and scatter.

Ink frayed and cloth in tatter. 

The end is only going no further. 

Accept grief, prepare death a supper. 

Men’s smooth faces need no line to flatter. 

Teeth melt like wax in white heated candour 

Nothing to live up to so it really doesn’t matter. 

Nazi nurse so feminine, see the cat-lick eyeliner. 

No hint of things wrong, you say you are the victor.

Dead before consequences of the actions of the actor.

We All Want To See A Big Death Scene 

Eyelashes dust on astral blusher. 

Tendons straighten their ties from soft muscle. 

Relaxed cords loose themselves from joints. 

Hourglass hips time an empty sensation. 

Ringlet hair to accentuate. 

The lips, the eyes, the neck. 

Plunging robe narrows at amethyst heart.

 Daisy-chain the ankle to scent a summer’s day. 

Twenty Four Hours of Words Make A Truth 

I suffer for you

My muse makes me write things because it likes to frighten me

My muse likes terror tales,

The bloodier the better.

Dead trees, dismemberments,

Hanging skies of sickly pallor.

Told as Wurlitzer tunes,

Dark works to drip and ooze.

My muse collects them.

In cold, tin pails.

To write poetic exhales,

Sighed upon my muse.

Each phrase a precious jewel,

Lay them precisely at red shoes.

I'd like to write life-kissed arias.

My muse demands them

Little terror tales. 

Dealing with the Devil

Here is a song I have been keeping back for a long while. It is purely an album track, if it makes it onto the album. Maybe better as a B-side?

It is one of those songs bands play to show their roots and to appease their hardcore fans.

It harks back to a time when I thought if I wrote for a band it wouldn’t be about vampires with kink-unicorn tendencies but would be basically a Robert Johnson, country/bluegrass outfit.They all have one song about the Dealing with the Devil, don’t they?

Course they do!

So, for the hardcore fans of the band here is a treat:

Dealing with the Devil

 

I walked out with nothing but my dog from the life I once had led

Through the fields, past the farm trucks, over hills from the old homestead

I never looked back, and neither did my faithful hound

We headed with the sun toward the red rust track, that familiar railroad sound

 

I had nothing anymore,

But I had nothing really before

So I figure I was evens on the deal

 

So there I was waiting at the station made of real dry wood,

My dog hollered by the signal post when the Devil before us both stood,

The devil made an offer on my soul for a little fortune in return:

Life would be better, riches brighter, but on a promise, my soul would surely burn

 

I was not my own anymore,

But I was no one’s really before

So I figure I was evens on the deal

 

Well the Devil, my dog and me got on the locomotive, southern bound

To pass the time the Devil cut cards and we played for the bent metal I found

The Devil, well, he kept winnin’ but I was sure he was cheatin’

Because if my luck was improved then by my countin’ it seemed at best fleetin’

 

I was not in the North anymore

But I was never really there before

So I figure I was evens on the deal

 

When the train made its destination, the Devil left me in old Mexico town

He said, “Now boy, look after yourself, be mindful whose loaded dice you throw down”

He turned into a snake and I lost sight of it some ten feet away

When by me a Mexican girl with curled hair gave a walk making her hips sway

 

I may never see a girl like that anymore

But I’d never seen a girl like that before

So I figure I was evens on the deal

 

[Guitar solo]

 

I’m lying at the stoggie end of my death bed, by me is my ever darling wife,

Saying: “I don’t want you to go, though we’ll meet up in Heaven where we’ll share eternal life”

But I see the Devil leaning on a cane with a glint in the corner of the room:

He says of my departing life: “You’ve had your fun, and I’ll have my share soon”

 

I had no way out from fate anymore,

But I had planned no escape before

So I figure I was evens on the deal

 

I played Jack betting with my soul and now the Devil has it won,

I think back through my time: girls, glory and wine, was it worth what I’d done?

The Devil spoke: “See, old man, it’s about time we were going, the train’s at the station”

I feel pale breath, the Devil’s cold glee, “Now for the never-ending damnation”

 

I had no path to Heaven anymore,

But I’d not asked for directions before

So I figure I was evens on the deal

 

Oh-oh-oh! With the Devil’s dice, it don’t matter what you roll

Sevens or snake-eyes, they numbers always come up for losing your soul

Oh-oh! With the Devil’s cards, it don’t matter how many of the aces are in your hand

Hearts, Clubs, Spades, Diamonds: all burn the same wherever they land.

 

Oh-oh-oh! The Devil will tempt away your life’s opportunity

With sins of lust and greed on a spin “it’s a man’s dream” the devil will say

Oh-oh! But it’s a conjuring trick in plain sight, no sleeves, for your soul he to steal

To make you figure you are evens on his deal. Evens on his Deal!