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I will no longer be using this blog. I will be switching to http://www.gablesworth.wordpress.com from now on. So if you enjoyed my poems and short stories, the videos I’ve posted along with the nonsense, please, come and follow me on gablesworth. Thank you!

Le Temps de L’Amour

Yup. I love it, thank Wes.

Faust

Hey everyone, VINCENT PRICE IS RIGHT will be playing three shows in the next few days. We are playing two shows this Saturday, October 20th. We open at a rad art gallery in Bushwick, Brooklyn, called EAC Gallery, with Monaisin, Sacristy, Jotunheim and Severence. we’re on at 7 sharp, so be prompt. We will hang for a bit but then have to head back to Queens to play with For The Record, Straphangers, and Seizure Crypt at Stone Tavern at 11:30. It should be a party of epic proportions. On Thursday October 25th we will be playing at Sullivan Hall, with Scattertheory, Alpharist, Thera, Hellshot, and Wordy Bums. Come and hang!!

There are many things in the works for VPIR, we are slated to record as of Nov 1st, there is new material we are super excited about sharing. There are shows, many more shows to be announced shortly. One of the newest songs we’ve written, is tentatively titled Faust, and based on the Germanic folklore. We’ve referenced Goethe, Thomas Mann and F. W. Marnau’s silent film Faust – Eine Deutsche Volkssage but drew heavily from Charles Gounod opera in five acts to a french libretto by Jules Barbier  and Michel Carre, based on Carre’s play Faust et Marguerite. I know, it’s a lot. There is also a dash of Rimbaud, as I recently reread A Season in Hell. So our song, will focus on the discussion of the pact or treaty negotiation between Faust and Mephistopheles. It is written as a dialogue between the two characters, and will undoubtedly be revised again before recording/performing. Here it is so far:

Faust: Oh, God! Do you hear my cries?

Mephistopheles: Poor Faust, God is not listening.

Faust: All is in vain. What is the use, The point of life.

Mephistopheles:  I hear you, I do, put your faith in me. Worship Satan!

Faust: What are these hands for? Why do I have this mind, this heart?

Mephistopheles: To control. To command. To think and to love!

Faust: I do not ask for wealth, Fame or glory.

Mephistopheles: I know exactly what you desire, for I know her beauty.

Faust: Grant me youth and the hand of Marguerite.

Mephistopheles: Not so fast, There is one small decree.

Faust: How can the dark lord bestow a woman heavensent?

Mephistopheles: Fear not, one drink and I’m yours, your humble servant.

Faust: What do you want from me?

Mephistopheles: Your soul, you are hidden and you are not.

Faust: I’ve made up my mind and I pledge my devotion.

Mephistopheles: Sign it! Sign it all away on the parchment.

Faust: Am I wrong? Will charity be my condemnation?

Mephistopheles: We are all damned and Hell is our season.

Faust: I welcome Hell for every caress.

Mephistopheles: So take up the quill and join the cursed.

Hunger, Thirst, Shouts, Dance, Dance, Dance, Dance.

I Knew A Man Who Spoke The Truth

This sentiment is never going to go away.

Why are there so many things in life I don’t want to do?

Things I don’t want to confront, things I’d rather were untrue.

One by one, I embraced all those people I cherish,

Hoping they were aware of my love for them,

Collectively crushed and despondent, begging for

Physical pain to accompany this heartache and nausea.

I preferred if my suit were a blanket,

A windowless room instead of a house of worship,

I preferred if this was all pretend.

My necktie, i’d stretch it, cast it out, snag it around your soul,

To tether you to this world where we need you to be.

If anything for a bit longer.

We knew you’d be leaving, you explained it to me.

I thought we would have more days, maybe I selfishly wanted more,

In your house, on your couch, conversing, laughing.

 

I walked in, sick, distraught, i didn’t want to look at you,

I didn’t want it to be real, I couldn’t withstand,

Time slowed, you joked about being invincible,

I took it as the truth, perhaps we were all gullible.

How could this be reality?

You weren’t in there, you were where you had to be,

You were in the hearts and minds of us, your loyal family.

The Lords of Salem

This is going to be so rad!

Grade

…Moments like this never last.

Crayola Blue

On a melodious Thursday night,

In a somnambulating metropolis,

Carving niches in bar stools,

Making our finest Bukowski impressions,

Swilling sagacity and perversion,

I couldn’t stop looking from the moment she walked in.

 

War is all around us.

We’re transient organisms

So why not address this magnetism.

I’d refill your whiskey, neat with a trace of immorality.

I dig imperfection, its become something of a fetish.

I want music where there is silence.

You are a harmony playing in my thoughts.

I don’t memorize poems, and I forget

The words to some of my favorite songs,

I just get so alone, sifting through the madness

Unsure of what I am supposed to do.

It’s autumnal equinox, and in my marrow

All I want to know is everything about Crayola Blue.

 

Cuby and The Blizzards

Boa Constrictor

I’d walk you home, inching closer

To touch your hand through the murk of the night.

Porch lights illuminate an unspoken invitation.

 

I sometimes mistake women for food.

let’s exchange secrets, osculate

in between breaths and comparisons

on how we perceived ourselves in past lives.

Are we anything like we thought we were?

 

What is on the other side of the mirror?

I want a slithering wormhole to bring our

Enticed mouths to a time where we belong.

We are such salivating solitary creatures

Searching for a connection in a world

where pumpkins don’t turn into carriages.

I want love, if love is a leg draped over me,

For I am the little spoon, I will strike,

constrict and envelope myself in you, turning

Until we are tangled, hoping the day never breaks.

Roderick

Cobwebs decorate the vault.

Imported, twist off, carbonated antidotes.

There is a streak of you on my spectacles.

Elected, to tell inane anecdotes

To encroaching walls, imprisoned.

The candle will blow itself out,

Everything is coated in dust.

A peculiarity of temperament.

We are no good for anyone,

But some refuse to take the hint.