Love is Love Would you sacrifice your heart in whole? Would you give away your mind and soul? Would you give your life upon request? Would you give it all if never asked? And would you give it to the beast That murders and steals from children and thieves? And would you give it to a hideous face Whose insides reek of moral decay? Or to the sloth that never speaks Who never moves, who never breathes? Or to the scarred and rotting creep Whose heart is as large as the ocean deep? Or perhaps to the beautiful form That elegantly glides across the floor Though within holds a searing vengeance That strikes through a loving kiss? Where your heart holds you Whether deep below or high above There is one line to hold your faith by That such is fate and love is love. Tarkington Erevan Waltz of the Condemned Through Icy skies, the bell has rung, Awaiting seven more. The captain, mate, lieutenant, And the sergeant board the floor. At dawn the condemned arrives To meet the strike of his demise. The face of he who soon will die By hands well known to crime, Masked by cloth so black It casts a void through heartless minds, Holding back tears to those whose sorrow flows Through hearts so faint it shines. The rope is tied by fingers wide Of governor's filthy pay. The noose is readied and soon will dangle The city's petty prey. Led by the sergeant's steady hands, The walking dead ascends the steps. The fourth bell rings so loud it marks The halfway of the path Toward dropping floor and swinging door And sudden, judicial death. The rope is wrapped about the victim's mouth And lowered to his neck. The crowd, it screams impatiently; The blood, it yearns to drink. Their eyes were starved of lawful death. The public humility Poured in the ears of one who viewed the sun Descend o'er a peaceful sea. "O, Captain, my captain, six bells have rung, May I pull the rope?" "No, not yet, my dear lieutenant; The last bell has not tolled." "Well, when the hell is the last bell? My hands are getting cold!" The captain's hand was on his sword; The mate was standing 'round. The sergeant stood a-waiting for The last bell to resound. Later they'll whine and moan in their perfect homes About the jobs to which their bound. The rope was pulled. The corpse was dropped. The cheering crowd soon waned. The suspect's neck was pulled and split; Never more should any fray. The sun went down on the peaceful town As the murderer rode away. Tarkington Erevan The Rambling Path 1 Ah, the song 'Tis a long song That travels through my brain It tells me to run away >From that which I've heard of much So goodbye I say unto you The rules I have long known It is now what I feel is right A poetic song that I feel is right Goodbye, my friend, goodbye! 2 Ah, the freedom 'Tis a freedom I'm not wont to That I must soon grow to understand Or fail in my attempt At saying goodbye to that which I know So hello I say unto you The one I must grow to know And 'tis easy it only acquires letting go Letting go of that which I have learned Hello, my friend, hello! 3 Ah, I see To learn patterns, punctuation, scheme Is abomination toward creativity Toward the artistic Toward the mind's passage to other minds To get a point across As being young, how can you expect such things from me? Young in your world To understand - To listen 4 With my excuse - Thank you I can speak So found the masters of scrolling art Of Masters, of Whitman, Of those who speak freely Thank you, Muse - for once I thank thee That watches me closely and leashes my mind. I, as always you knew (For what you know is all I know), Am your servant ever As your current action replenishes my obedience Thank you, my friend, thank you! 5 Sometimes I wonder Whether an invention such as conceived by these masters Shall strike my brain And, through my creation, I shall seize a nation An age, an era, a people By help of my muse But my selfish unyielding heart Will have to wait Until I perfect this gift And stretch it beyond what I have previously conceived and become spontaneous and unexpected and out of the ordinary and reach the limits and pass them and find more than just myself in this sacred gift I have so kindly been given. And, dear audience, whether you stay with me, Whether you leave me, stand by my side, desert me, I shall not give you what you expect, What you want, What you need, I shall please you no longer Whether you care or you do not Goodbye, by friend, goodbye! Tarkington Erevan Epic Part I: The Market of Peace Young Jurio the Malevolent He passed me in the market of Peace. I tripped him with my thin saber blade And approached him with a devilish grin, But he returned the evil grin to me As he lay upon his propped back And said to me, "It was you that entered "My father's ceremonial chambers "On the birthday of my twin, Cerolus!" And so I retreated with disbelief, And let him speak of this in his own voice. Part II: The Ceremonial Chambers It was the boy - the one that thought himself so brave. Yea, did I enter the chambers forespoken, And yea, did I lay my sword upon The head of my enemy with force. And yea, was my vengeance fulfilled When his blood was spilt and streamed down blade. At the time, I wielded a sword so broad; It bludgeoned like a mace and split like an axe. I filled my heart with his blood that drained, And on my countenance did grow a grin So evil and sinful, I could only laugh. And at this time did the boy approach me, Spit on my face, and utter a curse. I awoke from my pleasure and eyed him down. As I pulled my blade from his father's head, I shoved him back, and he stumbled and fell. My men close behind with their swords a-drawn. Till today, I haven't seen his face. Nor did I care to. Tarkington Erevan ~*~September~*~ Mother and Son Mother: Promise not to go away. Past my leave, promise to stay A child of my heart, mind, and soul, Letting not your love grow old. The mind, it is part of the soul And not a part of earthly gold. Let your heart guide through your art, And let your mind soar free yet not depart The limits of your soul's salvation. Son: I will never go away. Past your leave, I promise to stay A child of your heart, mind, and soul, Letting not my love grow old. I will remember The sounds of September. Plaid Narrator: Somewhere in the south half upon a crystal land There sat a wise young artist with a pen set in his hand He says nothing save what he truly means And the only things he cares for are all he truly sees He misinterprets the life seen in the scientist's eye And to that he does not care, he knows they are all blind He carries his own trend and does not follow fads He goes where he feels and blends in his mind's plaid He lay in dreamtime thinking about Paying back those gracious shouts Wondering if he should leave without All the things he should let out He may have been right-handed but he marked with the left Knowing always the word lay in treble-clef Anti-social he seemed quite well But he found happiness in his little hell So many clouds are in his way May they clear for him someday If he does not follow fads Let him blend in his mind's plaid His heart lies in the art that he holds in pride The feeling that he shows in one hard to find His heart lies in the art that he marks with a smile Coining to the public "Take me for awhile." Sunset Artist: Such a lovely lady you are Such a lovely face I can sense a heart of silk And a soul of lace Let me hold you in my arms Step inside my heart I will never wrong you dear I wish ne'er to part Lover: Sunrise of a lover's dawn You must be the one Artist: I am secure in your arms I can't be let go There is magic in your arms I can't be let go Lover: Sunrise of a lover's dawn you must be the one Avalon Priest: I know that once you praised me. I give you chance to walk away. No soul shall sour past Avalon. No heart adores past Avalon. No mind shall bore past Avalon. No one wants more past Avalon. The Book Artist: I wrote a thousand stories But no one saw them My heart bled through my pen But no one saw it I sang to God through them But no one saw it I sang to God through them But no one saw me Crowd: How can you praise When you're too proud for yourself How can you please When your heart lies in yourself Artist: You saw everything that I did wrong When I saw everything that you did right Crowd: How can you please When your heart lies in yourself How can you speak When your mind lies in a cell Artist: I walk through a graveyard And sing pretty songs I step on a gravestone And take it on home I take out cursed paper And draw what sounds alright My pen runs out a sadness That I do not want For what it doesn't matter My nails are now black For what it doesn't matter For the sanct or the sacked I don't want you to say That I am different I don't want you to say That I said what I meant 'Cause I didn't I walk through the forest And see the lovely greens I want the love that we hide Not to come out black For what it doesn't matter For what it may concern For what it doesn't matter I want my love to burn You I don't want you to say That I am not a man I don't want you to say That I can't take a stand 'Cause I can't Crowd: How can you speak When your mind is in a cell How can you lead When your heart rots in a jail Artist: Feel better than ever Better than life Better than anyone That's living in strife In my dreams What can't fit In the real world Cut up to bits Screaming for the show Looking for my row Can't find what I don't know Can't even find John Doe Screaming for my rights Fighting for this life That's going down Without any sound Mystical, Fanciful Lies Artist: Fanciful as it may seem, The disclosure of my dreams On this fair sheet of lined white, Forces my tears out in stream. The end, I know see so near; My promenade in death's duet Calls my heart to fall through my fear. May the light rise in stealth of his great sunset. Lover: Ever is his stride to seek Merriment in life's hardness. It is difficult to catch His mind when it is guardless. Can such medial negligence Bring his life to an end? What can offense mean To one that never offends? To me now, he is dead, Never to return to my presence. May the wolves howl to forget At the time of his great sunset. Narrator: Mystical, fanciful lies. Mystical, fanciful lives. Like the harsh, cold hand of Hell, He was taken to his cold cell. Never let again to love, He lay in naked torment. Never let again to breathe, He lay in painful cement. "What is wrong? What is wrong? What is wrong with me? What is wrong? What is wrong?" The Artist kindly asked. Darkness soon seemed his reply, Wishing only that he could cry. Exile Lover: Oh, darling children, gather; I've something to let you know - Your daddy was an artist, And he died in a vertigo. You'll never see him again. You'll never hear his voice. You'll never speak to him again. You'll never feel his touch. He'll never recite his art to you: His stories, his songs, his plays. You'll never see him kissing me Until we are all dead. So I suggest for you to go and play And find a father in nature, For I've no longer materiality, And you've no spirit for failure, So may the Lord bring him back to me. May the Lord bring him back to me. Never Cry Medicine Man: I see through your brain You need some help to get you by I see through your brain You want to cry Never cry I see through your skin Your soul needs more life to revive If you don't heed my word Life won't arrive Do not cry Vision: I am your laden youth I am your laden youth Let me be free Medicine Man: The visions that you see Are not as frightening as they seem They will give you sight To stop your cry Never cry Vision: I am your laden youth I am your laden youth Let me be free Swan Artist: Steel of iron makes no gold, And when it does, men make no mold, And sharp ends can not flow as easily As sharp pens do when easily distraught. Travel games and new band posters Are plastered above my head. I have seen these things; they made me mad. They make my mind seem to rot. With a razor, I slowly cut The edge of my mind, so that I forget. I make less of myself be true. I try to make it up by taking blues. Lamp shades shield no light from me. There is less love than sodomy. My mind is dipped in drugs and alcohol, Along with destiny I can't control. Vinyl, 8-tracks, tapes, CD's, They all make me so dead weary By thinking that they are all so common. I look at myself and see I'm common. Iron maidens claw me in. I've never seen a darkness such as In these lifeless, clenching, deadly clutches. They are not so greatly known to man. Some have learned too much to live, And when they die, they find they know more Than any living mortal shall conceive, Wishing to uncover when they leave. Gold and brass, silver and iron, Of which I am to consume; Of which I can not consume every second; Of which I can not be every second. There are times I can't be broken: Pick axe, dynamite, or knife, Or chisel, golden lightning, bolt of magic. Dreams in living prove that I'm phantasmic. There is a mind that can't be seen By scientists, doctors, or psychics. The mind is of the soul and not of Gold. Avant Spirit Announcer: Come up! Come up! His lyrics guide you to correction! His eyes see all! He'll give you mystic destinations! His soul, it speaks! He can enlighten by reflection! His heart, it guides! His presence is an invitation! Crowd: Shall we praise him? Shall we praise him? Shall we praise him? Let us praise him. Fan: He's amazing! He's amazing! All his words tell me what's right, Never once profound. Genius unbound. In wisdom, he's crowned and knowing. His love resounds. When souls surround And hover about, I'll make no sound, 'Cause his word's flowing Flowing right on down To the ground. I'm so glad I found My avant spirit. save mYSeLF Artist: Bring it on. I can not lose. Bring it on. I can't be used. Save myself From the hard rain. Save myself From all the pain. If I drown, I know that they will all Be around To help get me back up On the ground. Let it Go Vision: How does it feel To be with me? How does it feel To be free? There's only one way To be free And that is to stay Here with me. Medicine Man: Let it go. Let it flow. Vision: You will be whole If you're with me. Without me You can't see. You'll speak a new way, And you'll feel so free As long as you stay Here with me. Medicine Man: Let it go. Let it flow. Vision: I am your laden youth. I am your laden youth. Let me be free. Let me be free. Theophany Vision: Where have you gone? What have you done? Artist: My life has fallen before my dreams My fate is fogged by wanted themes I once had meaning, that is now crushed I once had love, that is now rushed Vision: You still have chance to still be pure Your ways are good, you need a word I'll give you life without a pill I'll give you love, your heart I'll fill This ride I've planned was not a trap Was not to hurt, was not a laugh Your selfishness, your body's pride If you let go, you will not cry Where will you go? What will you do? September Artist: I will never go away. Past your leave, I promise to stay A child of your heart mind and soul, Letting not my love grow old. I will remember The sounds of September. Tarkington Erevan