1. |
Stoli
05:33
|
|||
You louse,
you louse,
you louse.
In all our old photos, you’re leaned on your Cadillac.
That one at the beach, water behind you, just before you became the Gulf.
You became the the Gulf.
Right there. I reach into it. Into the photograph.
Right there, right there.
I reach into it.
Into the photograph.
I pull out Stolichnaya.
I pull out a whole sea of it.
You louse,
you louse,
out of my face,
I pull you.
Out of your face,
I pull myself.
|
||||
2. |
Hack
04:08
|
|||
Etch this on my headstone:
“He was a hack.
Oh no, I mean his throat–
a speckled axe.
And he hacked,
and he hacked,
and he hacked,
and he hacked,
and he hacked
up his lungs until he became both
the swinging, the receiving.
Until he spit up wedding clothes,
until he hacked
and he hacked
and he hacked
and he hacked
and he hacked
and spit up
himself.”
Here, here,
here,
here,
here,
here:
loneliness
is a suit you can wear,
that will wear you back.
I have gator teeth
in my cupped hands.
I am on one knee.
I’m holding them up.
Hosanna, hosanna,
o how they shine for you.
|
||||
3. |
Cricket
01:20
|
|||
What an awful world.
Gold collars on the meanest dogs.
Tax breaks for the rich.
What an awful
what an awful awful awful awful.
Cricket on the scorpion’s back.
Cancer cure in the stinger.
Every pear rots on its branch.
Every limb will one day droop.
Every prayer rots on its branch.
Old bishop with arthritis.
Weak neck and heavy halo.
Everything is slouching.
It's so disrespectful.
Two years in uniform. Four in therapy.
"Good mornin', sir. What brings us here?"
You did this to you
did this.
I know,
I know,
I know,
I know,
I know.
|
||||
4. |
Uglyson
01:10
|
|||
Flick each wheel
and hear it wail
and wail and wail
and on and on.
Everyone, look:
Look at my ugly son.
Look at my ugly son.
Look at my ugly son.
Look at my ugly son.
Look at my ugly son.
Look at my ugly son.
Look at my ugly son.
|
||||
5. |
Grifter
01:13
|
|||
God's ear got shot off by a cop.
Heavy gun in lily hands.
All the angels,
all the saints
weep gold and curse.
All the angels,
all the saints,
shave their heads and buy knives.
You cretin.
Grifter.
Scum.
Death's head on a mop stick.
White livered.
Fop.
Cad.
Go alonger.
God can't hear you.
|
||||
6. |
Felix
03:05
|
|||
Holy gunk from God’s lip,
I drop.
I pray like a child choking on a fish bone.
Communion bread stuck in my throat.
St. Blaise with his arms around my belly,
"Breathe, you heathen."
Felix Coeli Porta aka my weak throat.
I chant Latin words I don’t know.
Eyes shut, I sprint through this hymn,
praying I break my leg against any kind of altar.
I sprint through God’s humid throat
and get stuck halfway.
Who walks Don Cafasso to his grave?
Who assures him?
Who whispers at his side when he wades in,
over his head, to glory?
Who repairs the gallows?
Who cleans its blade?
Who prays for the undertaker?
He who gives us back up to God,
easy as clearing his throat.
Holy gunk
from God’s lip,
I am dropping from grace.
|
||||
7. |
Wingbone
05:45
|
|||
Glow suture glow glory glow glow actor glorious actor itch itch glow stitch stitch glory glory actor glorious hack hack hack hack hack hack hack i glory glory glory glory itch cauterize me cauterize us light us is glorious itch stainless steel light light glow glow glow hack hack hack hack glorious lord surgeon i shaved my head i’m on a cold steel table my chest cracked wide like angel wing bones lie and say this pain is in the name of healing hacking i said 'hack hack hack' glory glory golden gore golden gore golden gore golden gore make my gore gold make gore gold make my gore gold make my gore gold make my gore golden.
|
||||
8. |
Asterisk
05:02
|
|||
The python of this year is all constrict, no relax.
Ardor is helpful unless you're inside the circles.
You fight, it goes tight.
What a dumb throat, this week.
What a hot, godforsaken larynx.
What a place for the word of God
to crouch.
A dog barking for attention.
Like crepitus.
We don't know what it means
and we don't want to know.
Our bones will never be gold.
Our bones will never be gold.
Our bones will never be gold
no matter what.
I heard the word of God,
poured outta heaven
and over earth
like gold, beautiful bile.
I wrote it down,
and I showed the world.
It promised relief. It had an asterisk.
|
||||
9. |
Goldrot
09:27
|
|||
To the shrine of this year I come bowed, arms full of
water,
water,
water,
water,
orchids,
a keyboard,
photos
of myself,
posing,
with a beautiful
bear trap,
and King,
a quiet
rott-
weiler,
gold
collar,
gold
muzzle,
loosed
and
cinched,
onto
me,
ugly
crown
on this
ugly
prince,
with
olive
oil
slathered
over his
heart,
asking
a dog,
confused
and gaunt,
to turn him into
a funeral
worthy
of your best suits,
a shrine
worthy
of your best poems,
a dead king
worth his gold tomb,
an expensive
dog bowl,
fulla
cheap
grief.
|
||||
10. |
Itchyhand
07:07
|
|||
Eat us up in your light,
eat us up in your light,
eat us up in your light,
God of Glaucoma.
Our halos bright,
our eyesight bad.
We pray to Saint Anthony's
uncorrupt mouth.
We pray with jaw's that glow,
greasy hair under our halos.
Hold us like a cigarette,
like God hangs onto Houston like
an insect zapper from the cross.
We let mosquitos into your chapel.
Sorry.
Sorry,
they drank
your wine.
Sorry,
we are them.
Sorry,
sorry,
Neon Lord,
Gold Tongue Lord,
Phosphorous Lord,
Hot Water Lord,
Yellow Gum Lord,
Itchy Hand Lord,
Mosquito Hawk Lord,
Harvey Lord.
|
Li Nus Houston, Texas
h town 'til i drown.
half of County Hell:
countyhellmusic.bandcamp.com
my books, social media, etc:
allmylinks.com/billmoran68
Streaming and Download help
If you like Li Nus, you may also like:
Bandcamp Daily your guide to the world of Bandcamp