1. |
Porcupyne Hillz
03:40
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Porcupyne Hillz
By Xam Eitsirhc Copy Right 2014
I’s walked the short grass prairie, and I strode through the long grass too. Where the highlands are west of me, and under me ... the sky is blue. Where on the periphery of the purlieu the rains are seen to swoon ... making building blocks and wild grains for as long as me chest bows, with the smoke that fills me lungs and as long as the green grass grows.
At a place on the river of the Old Man, near the foot of the Porcupine Hills ... there’s a crick called Crow’s ... that sits vision quest and amidst tanned hide tents reaps a yearly fest of buffalo bones from seasoned kills. And the elk dog can dance without a care, to the song that sung ... cause he ain’t seen hair nor hide of the fabled fence ... rumoured to corral the miscreants ... but no one knows on which side.
And atop another hill, not far away ... called Sundial, there lays a medicine wheel ... that sleeps there forever, and a little while. Where ritualistic ceremony kept strange energies flow ... and shamanistic kinnikinnick spilled arcane secrets of how the future goes. The same blood in me dirty veins ... the blood of the great horse cultures of the Great Plains.
XXXXX
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2. |
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Socially Accepted vs. Socially Rejected
By Xam Eitsirhc Copyright 2012
I’ve got something to say
But have no fear
I’m not gonna slice a tare
And I don’t think you’ll end up shedding tears
It’s just that I see something
That’s not quite so fair
And because of it I feel like I’ve been smeared
Society places our habits on separate tiers
Ergo you think your addiction
Plays out like fiction
Being socially accepted
Shows how far mine’s
Been socially rejected
And that’s not even why I really care
It’s in the sub text
That always and continuously infects
When you believe
Your better than me
And think I could never conceive
Of this idea, or the next
Like I’m desperate
For any reprieve
Being socially singled out as separate
Refusing to accept me as your compatriot
It’s strange that you can’t see
That you’re just the same as me
But I have to risk and run
And all you do is go to the store
And you’re done
So try and remember
When you get that itch for more
That you stop playing the pretender
Cause your addiction
Is just as much an affliction
As mine, his and hers
So let yourself surrender
By throwing out the pop fiction
That addictions just a curse
And ends only in jail or a hearse
Fuck your social acception
I’m a social exception
And I’m calling fuckin’ attention
I’m completely wired
And complexly bound
Cause when I get high
I get down
And when I get down
I aim for higher
It’s easy to speak of what transpires
The difficulty lies
In the attempt to acquire
Looking for bliss
For hire
Can turn a young man to tire
Long before death
And his kiss
But it’s much simpler for you
Feeling the breath
Of a cute cashier
Buying your stuff
Without fear
Of harassment or of arrest
Never having to peer
The inside of a cell
As I can attest
For simply having engineered
Synthetically feeling at your best
And after all I’ve had to tell
I believe it’s you who are the less
And should suffer being smeared
Since I’m on a lifelong quest
And have no need
To fit in with the yeoman
And your status filled greed
Perceiving your better than
Since I’m a junky
With all the gear
As it’s my only career
They did plant the seed
Confining me
To a different breed
XXXXX
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3. |
Christe Eleison
03:12
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Christe Eleison
By Xam Eitsirhc Copy Right 2014
When I was young they called me a coward
Said I was weak and not a brave
Said I had no worth
They had no foresight
Nothing to look towards
They dug me a grave
And tried to bury me under
Six feet of earth
To hide me light
I ran with the fight
Stubborn and righteous
Slept out in the night
Went hungry and cold
Relied on me own reliance
And on hand and knee
Crawled till I was old
So Christ mind this
Christe eleison
Lord have mercy
Me time be done
The mountains behind me
Even grade before me
Lord have mercy
Let me keep me dignity
For the open pit
Bed roll and dented mess kit
The dirt's turned to mud
In the rain
And I’s just wanna bed down
Lord almighty let me rest
I’ma finished with the game
And tombstone bound
I’s be tiered of the pain
Broken and lame
So gimme a pine chest
And some open ground
So Christ mind this
Christe eleison
Lord have mercy
Me time be done
I’s be on cue
And standin' in line
Show me the necropolis
And a box of pine
I’s be a ready to feast
And dine
So lord have mercy
And send me to hell
With me kind
XXXXX
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4. |
As the Crow Flies
04:20
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As the Crow Flies
By Xam Eitsirhc Copy Right 2014
Suicide and silly-cy-bin ... red line’d on the high bend ... who said that train has sailed ... there’s still lessons ... to fail. Pulled from the sentence ... then pulled from existence ... in one quick instance ... that took nine months, for the presence ... of mind, and another four of insistence to be able to relate this.
I don’t need no map ... and don’t own no compass
Coz I’s a natural barometer
And an uncommon denominator
With a directional direction
With an internal sexton
Guided by the stars and moons
For navigational escapin’
Can’t stand in one spot
With a historical recollection
Of suspicious separation
And leaving too soon
Poppy fields ... rusted shotguns ... and a gilded ... old knife kept in the pocket. Prairie grass for a blanket and an old syringe chamber ... used as a keepsakes locket. The past hurts to remember ... and no use to wonder ... in regards to the future. Skills built for running ... a harbinger of departure ... and a stunning victor ... who won nothing. With no need for this ... and no need for that.
I don’t need no map ... and don’t own no compass
Coz I’s a natural barometer
And an uncommon denominator
With a directional direction
With an internal sexton
Guided by the stars and moons
For navigational escapin’
Can’t stand in one spot
With a historical recollection
Of suspicious separation
And leaving too soon
XXXXX
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5. |
The Creepy Creep
02:56
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The Creepy Creep
By Xam Eitsirhc Copy Right 2015
He walk’d alone
Without a hitch
Calling each …
A low down durty bitch
He wouldn’t eat and he wouldn’t sleep
But loved a succulent peach
As he play’d da bones
He’d rest deep …
Coz he’s a fukkin’ creep!!
Raised on predatory
Deviant debauchery
Da oldest story
Without da tears
But he always weepz
Coz he`s a fukkin’ creep!!
He got finger nailz in da cupboard
And semen in da freezer
Blood in vialz
And need’s to hurt
With tribulations
And trialz
In every situation …
He`s just a fukkin’ creep!!
She sayd “You`s look lost”
He was looking for sumone he knew
But her smyle was toss`d
And he reacted like glue
She just myte takez da leap …
To’s spend tyme with this fukkin’ creep!
She catches blood in jarz
To be put in cupz
And got worms unda da sink
And pepper’d vinegar
To drink …
She ain’t no sheep
She’s also bit ova creep!
Martyrdom and creepdom
Theyz gonna build da kingdom
Just like Gomorrah and Sodom
Built from da ashes of wisdom
And whoredom
Surrounded by’s freedom
So’s theys can reap
Coz da two’s of dem …
Are two’s of a kynd
Theys just fukkin’ creepz!
Theyz gonna dyne
And break sum bread
On riposte
And freezer burn’d semen
With dried blood toast
Top’d with wormz of roast
Washed with mushroom TEA
And a vinegar ghost …
Dem two fukkin’ creepz.
XXXXX
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6. |
Morning Sounds
01:18
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Morning Sounds
By Xam Eitsirhc Copy Right 2013
A quiet house, dark and stark with a wondering louse, a light boil and a click, click, click against the chamber’s foil. Disembodied footfalls vibing through the walls, the soft moans of pleasure drones sent adrift like hunting calls.
A house of quiet as loud as a riot, cascading light from blinking clocks illuminating corners and a fading siren going down the block; steeped tea for her and chemicals for me. Residues from the prior night where mourners shade their eyes from the break of light.
XXXXX
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7. |
K³
02:58
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K-3
By Xam Eitsirhc Copy Right 2014
Fuck off for eva!
Fuck off for eva (in reverse)
Fuck Fuck Fuck
Fuck off for eva!
Fuck off for eva!
You know … your ment ment mentally ill (laughter)
You know … your mentally ill (laughter)
You need help
Proper prop prop proper professional help
You need help
Proper professional help
Fuckin’ white trash cunt whore!
I’m gonna just fuck fuck fuck fuck you ova
I’m gonna just fuck you ova
I aint gonna fuckin’ leave you alone
I’m gonna just fuck you ova
Paid for your fukkin’ dope dope dope do-pe-pe-pe-pe
Paid for your fukkin’ dope
(Xam’z Laughter)
You will pay with your fukkin’ blood, sweat and fukkin’ tears you lil cunt
You’re a fukkin’ cunt!
Cunt Cunt Ca-Ca-Ca-Ca-Cunt!
Unt-Unt-Unt-Unt-Unt-Unt
What a cunt I am!
You ugly fukkin’ piece piece-piece-piece piece of shit
Piece of shit
Piece of shit
You ugly fuckkin’ piece of shit-it-it-it
Blood, sweat and fuckkin’ tears you …
What are you gonna do you sad prick?
You need help
Proper professional help
What are you gonna do do do you sad prick?
I will make you pay pay pay pay
I AM A FUKKIN’ BITCH!
Fuckin’ white trash tra-tra-tra-tra-tra-tra
ash-ash-ash-ash-ash-ash-ash
fuckin’ white trash …
fuckin’ bitch!
Ugly fukkin’ piece of shit!
(Xam: ) I’m recordin’ you
You’re recordin’ me-e-e-e-e?
My good energy
My good energy (in a satanic reverse & stretch)
Hope you get fuckin’ AIDS
Fuckin’ AIDS fuckin’ AIDS fuckin’ AIDS
AIDS-AIDS-AIDS-AIDS-AIDS
And I hope you die from it
DIE-DIE-Di-Di-Di-Di-Di-Di-Di-Di-Di-Di from it
I hope she gives you … FUCKIN’ HIV!
And I hope you die from it in the next fuckin’ six months!
I’m a witch …
… a Fuckin’ cunt
FUCKIN’ CUNT!
XXXXX
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8. |
No 1/4
01:48
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No ¼
By Xam Eitsirhc Copy Right 2014
I’s seen four horses on the ridge
I’s seen four riders who didn’t draw breath
And I’s seen four bodies hangin’ from the bridge
I’s heard the church bells
I’s heard the horse’s hooves
And I’s heard the high water spill
The tymes come, in me days of latter
When the grave’s full
And nothing matters
When the night’s got dark
Scarce a spoonful
And ample
Question marks
The tyme was, in me days of youth
When the rains gave life
And no lock could hold the truth
When the path was smooth
With infinite forks
From which to choose
And still nothing mattered at all
I’s seen the cries and I’ve heard the caterwauls
I’s heard the lightning and I’ve seen the thunder
And felt the sunrise
I’s seen the screams and I’ve heard the fear
I’s heard the beauty and I’ve seen the devil when he’s near
And I’s felt the salvation in hellfire’s eternal damnation
XXXXX
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9. |
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Midnight Near Philadelphia
By Xam Eitsirhc Copy Right 2014
Its midnight near Philadelphia … but only 2200 upon me terra … and black as hell ya … no guiding auras … just the glowin’ that’s lightin’ me eBOWLa … trapped in a prescription tombstone … breathin’ unda the same moon that shone. One plus one equalz won coz two’s be propaganda!
Well its midnight near Philadelphia and I’s can hear them weep … comfort in carbon and meat wrapped manna … sharpened and harden symbiotic stardom … me gore-jazz Kneipp. So close but can’t feels the heat ... baby when you's in retreat … spine of the cheetah and secrets of the Maya … all intended to reap.
Ya its midnight near Philadelphia … but that don’t mean anyone’s asleep, slycin’ moniker’d derma insignias … with tittle and ownership rights in keep … a swell of tidal wave heights in a covenant of brothel red lights … Well bruthas and sistas! … Zeus and Hera! … and a “Newark” held from Noah!
Coz its midnight near Philadelphia … and space; she be’s torture … and tyme; even more of a durty lil whore … coz tyme; she don’t siesta … and nor does she rest … like kleptomania stolen gems from the magpie’s nest … blessed necrophilia and incest operettas … under the cruxified crest. Copper wyre can scar likes hellfyre and optic fiber can brand with desyre … and Miss Analgesia fornicates with utopia to banish chronic insomnia …
XXXXX
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10. |
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Le Carnavale de L’arnaque
By Xam Eitsirhc Copy Right 2013
Hear ye, hear ye! And step right up!... Step right up! And dare, if you will, to stare... deep into the eyes of debauchery and passion... incarnate!
2 bits will gets you looks;
But 4 bits will gets you touched!
In a hootchie kootchie fashion!
We were once a lowly troupe, stationary and cooped, in a house of ill repute. Stuck in a dust bowl town. And being very astute, we recognized the laws of moral reform, as they came round the dusty little town.
We were chased, and in ethical disgrace... we were run right outta town, close to being tarred and feathered, from high societies’ highfalutin’ with delicate sensibilities’.
And through that storm we weathered, and branched out ... to explore and reconnoitre the country side, and our country bumpkin brethren. To... then be able to bring our deviancy to you! The good populace of this poor dejected and neglected county.
So... step right up! And try your hand... Step right up! And be a man!
Under this tent top you will experience... games of skill and a broken will, pleasures of the flesh and an exotic celestial caress.
Mexican plants to drink and smoke... oils and tinctures... to convalesce and cope.
Dice throwin’, the wheel of fortune... and opium consumption.
Card dealin’... and liquor prescriptions with a gin joint symposium.
Enterin’ our tent is like the proverbial... or even, the theological... “laying”... on of god’s own hands.
Why... we had a... “lame” man walk into this very tent... not more than a fortnight ago. An ordinary man, in every other way.
He... “laid”... down his 4 bits... and was electrified and epiphanized and... deeply... “touched.”
He threw down his crutch and stood straight up!
Wide in girth and as erect as an obelisk... pillar. You could have used him... to “pound” ... home nails, like the... “head” of a hammer...
Then, before he left, he hit the wheel, took a swig of our swill and watched his fortune land where it will. And when he turned and hit the floor and walked through the door, he left with paper tender lining the pockets of his trousers.
I’ve now been edified, through the papers, but mind you... through the grapevine too... that he has put down soup line equipment... and began investments. And now he writes his own tickets.
Why... the last word that I had heard ... was that he had purchased, a ‘34 Duesenberg.
Now I’ma not saying that this particular... outcome is gonna happin’ to you’s, but I’ma also not a saying that it was... awful peculiar.
So can you afford the chance?
So can you afford not the wager?
So can you afford the uncertainty?
They say times now are hard... yes, but when were they not?
And months from now, when you look back, with your crops in mutiny, and your children don’t know the definition of... revelry?! How much would you give... to come back and love and live... under our tent, once again... and vent... your pale skinned sins?
Well yet not fear, nor regret my fine country folk!
The moment has not yet passed... into that cold, black void of time’s past. We are here to bring you all of your desires and fantasies... at a cost yes... but a paltry one if ever there was such a thing!
So... this way me gentlemen... 2 bits in me hand, will gets you in.
Please though, please sirs... an orderly queue... there is room for all... to attend this dark ball.
XXXXX
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11. |
Existential Angst
02:54
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Existential Angst
By Xam Eitsirhc Copy Right 2014
They say I can only be in one place at one time. But I can prove different, breaking the rules of engagement ... and defying the laws of physics through a life in crime.
I am here, but me mind is there ... am I me body or am I me mind ... two of a kind? Or broken and unaligned? Fine line between parasitic and symbiotic.
How long is a moment? How far is a bit? Is an expanse wide enough? What are the co-ordinates of the horizon ... and have you ever been? How heavy is the air? And what’s the distance from here to there? Where is here ... and if you’re not here ... then you must be there ... but, then again ... where the hell is there?!
Single handed applause ... while searching for life’s cause. The experience of the human existence ... with the assistance of all me beautiful flaws. How loud is a silent scream? And how far is far? Can you feel the thunda ... the altruistic rumblin’s of the ultra-subsonic death of a star ... the implosion of a suppa’ nova or the speed within a car?
Can the world be caught in a moonshine jar? And then drank down with a fine cigar? Can the land be owned? And how sweet is a moan? Is it yours? Or is it mine? How deep is the gorge ... or the sand scuffed line? How much is that doggie? And by and large ... and by the by ... who the hell is really in charge?!
XXXXX
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12. |
Flat Tire Strummin'
02:15
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Flat Tire Strummin’
By Xam Eitsirhc Copy Right 2013
Old straw tea, ginger root pie, vanilla bean vodka and corn that hides from the sky. Since the day he was born, no one called him green, he learned without the lesson, from everything he’d seen.
A tar paper shack that holds a hangin’ hat, a tarnished Smith & Wesson that won’t fire back, no house of the rising sun and the wrong caliber to fit the gun!
Riding box cars, on the rails; chained in locks and bars, that just won’t fail, and hitting the hammer with the nails. Yes please and no thanx, start the hard crimes, but even the banks, gots hard times!
A boiling kettle drum and a tune played on a fiddle. Spiced dark rum and a written address for the devil! Best laid plans; you know his workshops, are idle...hands!
Best listin’ up, how full of a cup? Mad dogs chewing rocks and no batteries in the clocks. The judge speaks and the lawyer talks, there’s no way they’re a gonna let him walk! A cold day in hell and a long time comin’, dish water blowin’ and flat tire strummin’.
XXXXX
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13. |
The Dusty Road
01:48
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The Dusty Road
By Xam Eitsirhc Copy Right 2013
I keep walking this dusty road, looking for more. But me feet are dragging and they’re so sore. I’m tryin’ but the ends just won’t meet.
Parties without guests and the weary get no rest!
No endings to life long quests, no setting sun in the west!
Grinding metal, salt stains, cards of get well, and lonely open plains. Crutches for coping and canes for strapping. The preacher says I’m damned and gonna rot in hell, says he can tell, Lucifer knows me well!
Running on the lam, blinding wool with a confidence scam.
Noses in the air, frozen in hound dog poses, deciding what is fair.
Give me the thorns and forget the roses.
No rest for the weary, I'ma getting old, me eyes are blurry and the wind is cold. There’s always a worry and the breads growing mold.
I keep lookin’, on yonder; walking this dusty road. No mind to hurry and time to ponder. I’ll keep walking this dusty road, I’ll keep on me wander. Till I lie...lie down and die.
So don’t mourn me, don’t dote on me. Just bury me...in this dusty road.
XXXXX
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Xam Eitsirhc- "The Snake Oil Poet"
Xam Eitsirhc (phonetically pronounced as "SK-am" "ITE-sir-IK") was born in a 19th century prose-dello, from the loins of verse, amidst great paean & hence suckled straight from the teat of literal & figurative literary polyglots. Schooled upon the hard streets of balladry, Xam prepared for the poet's life to take him where she willed him, with a harmonica in one pocket & a plume in the other,. ... more
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