GOATBORG UNBOUND

 

GOATBORG UNBOUND

Introduction


Pok

Good evening, men so mild
If you will bide with us a while
We’ll set a scene, perhaps it’s true
I hope you don’t mind if I do
Involve you in a crazy loon
‘Bout horns and goats and lonely moons
About a road, though mentioned not
That runs now right through Camelot
This company’d like it to rot
And grow once more as it was before
But with stronger faith, a mystic law
And carried on from tale before
We will speak in metaphor

And hope it’s good and hope it’s fine
And you have a jolly jolly good time


The Argument


Camrat

Spitting vermin
You break my brain with your jealousies
Break my rat’s back with that boar’s bone
Make requests that I would die
or tire myself direly doing
Oh Queenie, I love you
You command me with your timy eyes

 


Queenie

Curb your mouth
For when do you care
To think of me
Waiting in this warren
While you yatter and boast
In your so glorious position
Of your General Directorship?
You speak of love,
You speak of power,
But you’re just a wimp
You’ve gone limp
Oh do something interesting for a change.


Camrat

Oh, but Queenie, I’ve brought you
Black jewels from the darkest caves
You have hanging in your pit
the skull of a great Huruhog that
twenty of our honoured Starats were
skewered in the hunting!
In my youth, the Earth balls of the
Gorgon cost me a finger and an ear
finding for you.
Oh Queenie, why don’t you let me in?


Queenie

Godzollocks eat you, fouleye
Bore me, would you, with your babbling
Go out and do something useful!
Go out you
Go out and…
Get me the..eye of that dragon
(she points)
I fancy its shine


Camrat

B-b-but that’s a hill Queenie


Queenie

I don’t care, show me your love
and bring me the eye


Camrat

B-b-but it’s ST. Catherine’s Hill


Queenie

I don’t care, why don’t you act
as big as you talk in public
Go on, off you go


Pok

So off our dampened (???)
Tails down, his saddened (???)
to anger as he sees his workers (???)
The Starats


Camrat

Set your machines to max
And chomp this chalk
We’ve a new job
More tar to eat and shit
Coat the land in our black robe
Which is our true purpose
In life
To envelope all in our black dreams
And hopes
Our culture thrives
On tar
So eat you all


Pok

And so the Starats set their
jagged machines to the full
And strained,like any
ox at the yoke
And juddered into
barbarous life
Swinging grinding spinning
toothy discs and tools
That bit the pure ground
And sprayed white and green
While the subject silent screams
And would you know why
Why happens this?


Chorus

This ancient ground split like a lip
This Donga marred by scars


Pok

What machinery, malignant tin opener
of what imagination’s creation
Has Done
This?


Camrat

(laughs) Why, it is my lovely Ratgolem
Homonculine mechanical hybrid of
sorry meanness


Chorus

Has love done this?


Pok

Is it he, she, they, those
Is it me, you, who?
Who does this thing
that rends the land?
What sad culture is wasting
It’s clothing nature?
Tears a womb to find the baby?
These Starats just don’t know
how to dance!
Do you?
* * *


Awake


Pok

So look now, they are dig, dig, digging
And why do they scowl as they work?
Why is the music of their tools
so harsh sounding?
And why do they slander Camrat?

But
What’s this?
What has the digging revealed?
A black stone edifice that will not break
though all the thresh of Ratgolem
Be against it?
The Starats gather and dig around the chalk.
Hours pass
and they loosen its grip
on what seems to be a statue.
Find, all around, bones of huge creatures,
dinosaurs let us call them;
All around,
poking out of the white landscape,
casting shadows.
Freaky stuff, the Starats murmur.
They clean earth from the image
A sultry woman
clutching a horn
How long has it been buried here?
And how ever they harness Ratgolem
how they cannot move
Its bulk
Stuck.
So they cut on on on
A wide berth around the hill,
this “eye of the dragon”.
And how that shuddering
passes through the landscape
shakes, quake-like
the trees and animals
Touches the stone we have found
And moves that too.
Maybe there is a dream stirring
For look – truly the eye of
this stone woman opens
A light of life is revealed
A ray of light that leaves the pupil
A tear!
Opening once more from trance death
Stoned life awakens
After long tombing


Chorus

Why!


Pok

As tears dissolve a chrysalis
Old muscles find clench
And a pulsing brown body
Stands once more
Her lightening eyes look all around
Seeing Breathing
And in one succinct move
has raised horn, and begun to blow


Birth of the Cyborg


Pok

Zellgthuureel is dying
Come to an end
(He always loves this part)
Coasting ’round on a surf, the old goat
comes close to Earth’s orbit
When! (FX horn)


Zellgthuureel

Wow, that put me nightlight out!


Pok

There was this sound that seemed
to curl space.
Spiralling from a patch in the blue
Caught on its current
Zellgthuureel sniffs…
It is good
This kind of thing turns him on (FX clicks)
So down he swoops
Eyes training like an eagle’s
Looms to the land, big shadow
Seems to envelope England
with its goatish shape.
Diving down, following scent
And there, sunning herself in
suburban green gardens
Mellise is greeted by the
Curl-horned and metallic
Sky-goat mmmm
Invited to lay among the grass
And seed new creation
Soon they achieved their ecstatic goal
and smiling, Mellise watches as
Zellgthuureel turns to carbon
then dust
and so nothing
* * *


Pok

People in the towns were generally
not aware of the sound of the horn,
Yet Inamorata blew for days
and days
And only those with open ears
could hear
For only those with open eyes
could see
What only those with open hearts
could feel when
This pain of eco-systems collective habitat
found EXPRESSION
In the undeniable hallooing (???)
Of Inamorata’s performance.
How she churns life from depths
Of mud and decay
Taps hidden, lost roots,
sacred juices
To nourish green growth
In this desperate hour.
When rats of doom
Make black the land
With their tars –
Her sap will generate foliage
and sinewous wilderies (???)
To crumble it up again
For what mischevious ace has this
Recovered beauty got up such a
luxurious sleeve?
Rogueish woman, what are you doing?
Are you not seducing the land?
“Bring forth your sons and daughters”
You seem to cry
For those with true ears, eyes
can see
And unbound by mind
Have sought and found
Seem to be gathering in the hills
and downs, living in woods,
bringing materials, constructing…
Interesting
To see these folk again
They do seem familiar
Good to hear their music as they
come, courageous, come over land
to Inamorata’s call.
Knowing this pain
Come like rain
The characters! Look at ’em
you brigand folk!
Binga Bonga
Dinga Donga


Chorus

We came to Camelot
Come to the true King
Has he got up yet?
We got him a horse


Pok

And so these of old England
see the spoiling
See the dinosaur bones casting shadows
And how their wise rage fills
the air with powerful sounds
Summoning spirits
and coming over the hill
Into old Twyford
Vibrant throng mean business
These people hear the machines and
Go crazy!
Ratgolem and the Verminions, those
smaller earth-tearing machines, are
charged by the colourfully rioting band
in a wave of exotic sounds
Ratgolem teeters, and is down
Pushed by pixie people
With piskie power
“Improoving” as they put it, the
Car-ma of Ratgolem!


Nargourd

Why’d’you do this, anyway?


Ratgolem

Don’t know; it’s my job


Nargourd

Come, you’re gadonga’d mate
Come and live with us,
Ratgolem, have a gourd


Ratgolem

Thank you


Pok

The Starats themselves were more of
a tricky one, to say the least.
Many, it seemed, suddenly turned
and became like a wall of fur and
sleek. Rodent features gleamed
Malignant in the moonlight.
That moved as one towards the
Binga bonga people, brandishing old
bones and loose bits of metal.
People braced themselves.
But who could brace themselves
enough to withstand Inamorata
as she once more blows the huru horn
And a huru horn
enhurus people
But this time it was different again
She blew with pure passion
Brought colours never seen
Mingling with the sound
Spewing from the horns bole

So, furious forward run the Starats
their aim to maim!
And sounds, refractions, shades new
bounced about in the confusion
Shapes formed from shadows
Blew radiant aquamarines, impossible
scarlets, tanned buttermilk and
vermillion exasperating spheres, rinsing
disappearing or exploding
and a voice as if though and
ancient crack
seems,
yes, yes
makes sound
and what a noise!
Some new thing is on the way



How this land bubbles colour
Suddenly in scene of all this…
heaviness
it brings mirth and smiles somehow!
And a cheer, we hear
from the Bonga
The old tales are coming true
For the musics really do awaken
this land


Nargourds

We know you, we shall call you
shapeless forming fantasy of
Well splenderous array
Shall call you, call you
SAGANURU
OG of OLD
but your shiny new dragon skin
is lovely in this morning light.


Pok

So now the Starats turn their
weaponry skyward as this beautiful
creature rises, muscular, formed from
the foaming colour sounds.
And in fear, those rats loose many
arrows, pelt many stones, sticks
Anything!
At its indefinable mass
Now, is the beats harmed
What do you think…?

But more; for every projectile
aimed at translucent Saganuru
A thousand blossoms fall
showering
the comic battlefield
And all day there are skirmishes
and scurryings
as folk and folk dart about
influenced by the strange
environment
causing this or that
prank, or
merryment
to occur.
And as the madness excells itself
All that is touched
Changes hue
or
Sprouts with lively running peoples
Jeering
Rudely
Into the crevices and funny bones
of Earth and Mind
And it got worse,
Frantic…
Enjoyable
Folk ranted and sung in strange voices
and, from the chalk
Out wades Arthur himself


Tripped out Arfur

Galahad! Lancelot!
Camelot awake!


Nargourds

Comes the true king
His grave has been dug open
But he was not there
He just rolled out of the hill


Pok

and all his table
took to horses
and played bagpipes
and harps
In odd keys

This was found very enhuruing by
all present.
And, come twilight, still playing
and singing

The dragon could,
of course,
be seen properly
This was particularly…enhuruing
…WOW
COLOUR
And then the night
It got ridiculous. Everything was chaos
and well,
theatre.
A hundred plays were acted
A hundred hundred songs were snag
A thousand thousand chants were
sent up to the dragon, who flossed
bubble kin, borne in response
as the wind picked up the prayer
Dinosaurs rose from the curst
to sing their slow songs,
their heards writhing in
bone joy
Banners of blatent life chorused
loudly this night
Work had definitely stopped
and many rat’s-eye began to turn,
horrified, but
exhilerated by what they saw
And at dawn, the wind made
the blossoms rise.
Only nature enhurus you.
* * *


Pok

Camrat had been watching all this
from a hiding place
He wasn’t sure what he felt
There was something very different
about last night

It was quiet now, the Donga had
gone back up the Dragon eye –
I mean St. Catherines.
That strange woman as well.
It blew his mind
He saw the blossom
He remembered the colour
In the general aftermath, the various
artefacts strewn about the landscape
looked very disconcerting


Camrat

What was all that about?
Noones’s working
What’s Queenie going to say?


Pok

Camrat couldn’t think straight
He began to sweat
He began to fret
He looked here,
He looked there,
Sees the husk of a huge worm
on the land


Camrat

It’s Hurunagas’ old skin
He must be on the scene as well


Pok

Camrat remembers the old legends


Camrat

Oh no, noone’s about, noone’s up
but Queenie soon will be


Pok

His rats eyes look up and down
And all of a sudden, there came
an evil glow to those wicked orbs
And on this faery pipe he played blowing
as he had seen Inamorata so do
played, calling
COME WORM, DRAKEHATER BE
I CALL CHROME GOAT, MAKE A ROUT
SORT ‘EM OUT

The ears of the leaves
Would have heard
More than rustling
More than wild pigs squealing
Or birds trapped by larger talons
From some point in the wood
A darker night
There, abyssmal pains expresed
Clammoring
Wailing its hell into the world
For into the woods Mellise has gone
And her womb seems centre of monastery (???)
Of peculiar, tormented anti-life
Urging her, retch
Convulse
as red-eyes are now the only
clarity among this darker dark
peering out of the belly
– Screams –
Only this baby knows that he ate
his way from his mother’s womb!
And ran, amongst sudden
hail and lightnings
nature unnatural
Jet fear, gut panic, terror to
bring sweat
Lo!
He is born
Issued
And the first thing it does
IS KILL
Equipped for death,
One catches glimpses of his body
its bone metal sinew
and goat flesh

Horrendous mismatch
…Lethal
There followed weeks of
Murder
Carnage
Slaugher

 

Unpremeditated Unnecessary
Circles of red marked the
battlezones
But there were no battle
Just slaugher
And then reeking death
UNTIL
The creature found one he somehow
Recognised
The Giant, Gig, stumbling blind
about the Northern Hemisphere
Causing equal destruction
But unintended
The Goat – man – machine;
let us call him Goatborg
(for we created him)
gives the giant a spare pair of eyes
Wonderous sight bringing
latest technology
mechanical
And so the Giant gave thatnks
and said he would
for a periods of time
Give his service
So the pair set off rippling
angry circles, with no aim.
* * *
Just as Gig had not eyes
So Goatborg has no ears
not for the musics
Of Inamorata
For he of all
did not hear
Hurunagas’ blast
For thought it was the cause thta
Made him fill his Mother’s womb
He heard not, yet
The rhythm of his own creation
Rather, he chose to destroy
all that reeked of it
The moment of his birth had
been accompanied by the
Huskhorns shriek
and now Camrat blows
upon the old skin
So does its sound reach Goatborg
Who is is some landscape

It turns his head, electro-diodes
picking up sensitive oscillations
that stroke his nerves’ circuitry
Metal hands drop his forgotten meal
a luckless marsupial whose guts
splay from the body


Goatborg

What is that?


Pok

Gig has ears enough and


Gig

That horn again, yet master,
this is the sound of worm made husk


Goatborg

Let us see what foul play is at hand.
Whose breath is bad enough
to blow it


Pok

They follow the sound,
Gig feels odd


Gig

That strange feeling again


Pok

Goatborg is unperturbed, and
soon, they come
to the place where Camrat is.
That ground of
Twyford Down

So with great synchronising
All of a sudden
Drawn by the rodent’s puff
Hurunagas and Goatborg appear
Summoned
On either side of the horizon

There are lights
and signs in the sky
So, now, Camrat ceases blowing
To look at who he has called
Wicked sweats stick his fur in clumps
MET
The scene was out of Time
Medaevil
For peoples had met, alerting
the land of its perils
Harkening when Inamorata had blown
the horn, to meet here at Dragon Hill
When that peel wrenches the heart
People gather to secure their ancestral garden
Remembering an ancient root
And met in ancient grounds
Where legends are founded
And through time recovered
As Dragon rears head, so it speaks
The old ones return
And Camelot once more will swell
With needed celebrations
The hour is on us
But as legends remember
The tribes will return
And now in sight of Dragon
Do set down their minds to wield
Magicks
Bards stroll in to be swept up
And make their song relevant
Clothed all new in revelries
That we left off in the Fifteenth Century
When the lute sung of love also
Especially at those times of year
Circles conjunct
We meet, and our song lingers
Forceful in its suggestion
Now we draw the cord
And send our love songs
Flying to the heart
And so here at St. Catherine’s Hill
Our startled old souls
Have met
And as Camrat has set his workers
to cut out this place, so peoples
Are streaming onto it
A many peoples from places far
Bound in the heart
Have come
One
` Come
Coloured cloths dance,
leap
tumble
Through
Sticks of fire; a
pageants
incantation
Swirling with ribbons.
Wode is worn; but not for fighting
Our sword is chalk, we have
Spiritual needs
A mystic faith of Earth-love
Inamorata holds crazy court
In the firelight
Beneath the trees
Atop the Dragon Hill
And talking is done
Of tactics, quickly in the need
For yesterday work was done
But tomorrow
All felt the pandemonium
Within aether
And so sunk their magic now
Into the earth
That this land would be protected
For we love the land
and fear its removal
And it is said over and over
that you can’t kill the spirit of the
Dragon
And the Dragon lives in these hills
So to rise, bidden, to defend them
Now
Faces look up in the firelight
A song is begun, and continues
In rite
To ring the changes
And so, its ecstasy
Winks at Bok, that devil-demon
Who is travelling nearby in Space
with some goats
It’s that cosmic egg again!
Space Goats ar Nargonauts
Who be donga’d who am you
who am I
Who are all now sat on this hill
Chanting ourselves the evocation of
the land and a telling
a sing a
story stones
So, naturally, Bok lands his egg
on the top of the hill
Which glows,
A beautific vision
and spreads love tendrils
Over the Donga
Thus now trees plants grasses
weed and briar grow allwhere
and with a whoop
The Space Goats have at it with their
Lyres
and straddle the earth with sound
This was a night of intense
Eldritch
Spirals we danced, the key
that is a maze was
Trod and Turned

Till in the morning, after council
We will spill
Into the valley
To meet Camrat’s authority
Met

Rat Worm Giant and Goat
Three held by the vermin’s cunning
So Camrat continued


Camrat

Each of you is a will
And mind is that you
Work a while
In my employ
Until the task is done
Anyway, you have no choice
For I have you by the trance
When I can say anything
And you will believe it
Those pathetic Starats have seemed
to have got themselved enhurued or
something,
And I’ve need of stronger mettle
To get my job done
So you; Hurunagas,
Be it that you hold the fort from
the frothing of your son, song
Saganuru, that Dragon up in
the hill there.
Don’t let him anywhere near here


Pok

The worm said nothing of course
but did glow all the more like an
enormous Christmas tree
festooned with lights
This unnerved Camrat somewhat


Camrat

And you; Goatborg.
Sever this hill from Mother Earth
Maybe later we will grind it in
our intestines so we can
shit
more of our tar onto the hole you
leave

Ha Ha


Pok

Goatborg nodded once


Camrat

You; Gig
Roll us a joint


Pok

Now, the work begins
Goatborg sets his feet to the ground
and bellows black hate
From his legs, shining steel piercers
lance the hillock he is standing upon
Emotionlessly, they scissor-drill
Deep into the land
He walks forward, cutting deeply
Extending from Goatborgs arms
Spear
Great Razor blades that set off
Rotating like
huge lawn mowers
These machete the foliage, trees and
…smaller obstacles,
While explosives from his chest
deal with the larger ones
What an incisive step!

Goatborg is circumnavigating the hill


Nargourds

To cut the eye
Of the Dragon

Such a thing

The ground is torn
(they scream)
MEET
When hills turn their eyes
We come again
Stronger than before
Come


Inamorata

SAGANURU


Nargourds

OG of OLD


Pok

For see, as the Goat cuts
So the peoples of old England
Pour over the hill
A banging and wailing
Blowing on horns made themselves
Children of Hurunagas!
Oh Ra!
Oh clan have faith
where meet these souls
And here blazes the Dragon
Flying in full daylight
* * *
As soon as Camrat saw the Dragon
He commanded
And Hurunagas leapt up to tackle
An oncoming Drake
But Saganuru was too playful
and Hurunagas forgot the
Rat’s enchantment
To dance with its child
in the sky!
So
the welkin was alive with (???)
Natural fireworks
Strong spells in themselves
Yet Goatborg did not err
He would not be enhurued
Nearly all round the hill has he cut!
So when here, at last post, Nargourds
and Inamorata in desperate scheme
Have hastily erected a scaffold
Some thirty feet high,
In the path of Goatborg
And beset it with all trickery of
Colours, beads,
feathers and designs
To capture the eye
and train it
to one window
at the centre of its structure

Now Inamorata clambers up to
that focal point
She stands there, encircled by
spiral snake mandalas
In a costume of Danu’s allure
Made from sequins
Wove by Donga fingers the night before
She looks magnificent
They wait

Goatborg rounds the bend

He has not seen
He is not looking!
He must look up
or he will not see!
So now the Donga did us of
their bullroarers
Curdling the air also with
Shrieks and cries that
Goatborg would
Glance up from his work
But it was no use
He got nearer
and nearer
Whirring
Nearly cut
Nearly cut
Nearly
Just then, signalled by Bok,
a party of
Space marauding
aeolian knights
Came down
Their singing swords made
an eerie
stomach-turning noise as they
were whirled
And the sound of the singing
scaffold doubled
To approach an awful
Crescendo
Drawing, drawing higher
and still more
in its threshing harmonics
Drawing…drawing
those Cyborg eyes to meet
MEET
Mandalas maze and her
jungle eyes
Inamorata!
And she did bleat


Inamorata

Goatborg, your mother was a
woman
And so she sent a bolt of
sound love
from the core of her being

OM MA HUM
OM MA HUM

Goatborg received a ray of
eternal summons
Straight through his primal gland
Faltered
And moved no more
Blades stopping

Shutting down
Overload

Shutting down
Lights dimmer

And out

He crumbles


The Love of the Sun and the Moon


Too much
The night had been
a deluge of unprecedented
Events
The emergence of
A dream’s ideal
Revolution of quartz minds
One,
As if the stones rebelled to be
More truly of themselves
And so drew their people
To them
And no blood was drawn
Save where scrambling over
the broken earth.
A graze or bang would occur
Still now,
The Nargourds slumber
Wherever they fell
And would probably be there
Some time
Bok had levitated
In his Space egg
With the Contingent
Of still singing
Goats
Rising to a place where
They could party in peace
Here it is like a new age
Las Vegas
Flashing with a lightshow
by the new Snake ‘n’ Drake
Illuminations Corporation


Nargourd

“Uruin”


Pok

The aeolian knights had not
stopped playing yet
and now the frequencies of their singing swords
Generated a tornado-like
Whorl of energy
that filled spiral-powered
engines
With enough wazz
to grant
The palace of concentric pavillions
– that is Bok’s egg
With ample enhurument
for the party to begin
In style
This was all to the enrapturement
Of Bok and the Space Goats
Who were reassembling
an old band
– the Bacchics
Who now use these dervish drones
as a bass-tone
All present grooved out deeply
and when Beaulah the beautious
and long eared said to set sail for
the stars, all cried agreeance
So Bok juddered his craft up toward the Sun


Bok

Let’s pay a visit to the old raver!


Pok

And off they go in jubilatious
lacophony
Taking with them the hitchhiking
spirits of the
Crashed-out Nargourds
* * *
So the Sun looked across again
To where the moon was risen still
And his heart ached
For he loved her
And she did not return the love
For the moon, she loved of the Sun
Also
But recently events
Had made them separate
Oh how they lacked
But he’s too fiery, the moon would
say
And she’s too cold, said the sun
So nothing was done
Come Come Come
Why so?
Then Bok arrived on the scene
and, sensing the trauma
Mischieviously gestured
to the knights
Who began, their harps to extend
To cover the sky in string
and let the winds blow them
So the tune was a pleasing
and a caught a heart of emotions
And now our Sun could quench
his passions
In the wyrd
of his reflection
Saw folly’s web
And a way to love
So put on robes
And a delicious collection of
Sunspots
And then did charm the moon
Out of the sky
Till they came to eclipse
Bok’s eye, now radiantly visible
from earth,
Osquils with joy and mirth (???)
And, as he smiles, there comes
indeed the celestial configuration
Delight
Hurunagas circles, shining
And Saganuru breathed a dawn
fire that touched all in its
conjunctional mesmerisms
Nargourds, just woken, sat on
St. Catherine’s smirked in sleepy
empathy and were enhuru’d
as the moon obscured all but the
shimmerings of sun heat visible
around here curve.
They applauded, then fell back to
sleep.
And the peoples of the sun did swing
through space along the chords laid
by the aeolian knights
Very flashing ala Errol Flynn
Were these
Solites
So the Lunitians, those coy maids
and men of the moon were wooed
most rapidly and all swooning,
crooning formed a symposium
of love
that Bok’s egg played like a
giant dancing plectrum, hopping
about space
from skystring to skystring
Weaving a song of the love of the
Sun and the Moon
There were many partenerships
made
at that party
People just came on down
And a new race was born
as Bok steered his music
round into the spiral arms
of the Pleiades
And the race was later to become
named Spirine, but that it soon
grew longer because of the many
cultures involved
And it is a new creative roar
these people send out from their
realm, on the tip, ever, of some
spiral.
But this is a true story of what
is going on in our spirits
and on the land
So the dreams of the Nargourds
have gone into their real lives
The land protects
And on earth, those dinosaur bones
Did mystically assemble
and set off into the sky
Nowhere is Camrat, but Gig can
be seen sitting down amidst
this chaos,
childishly playing with the eyes
Goatborg gave him
Adjusting tiny controls, pushing
sensors
That play light onto the retina
And further and further he gets
into the complexities of their
technological kaleidoscopes
Finding
Different-hued realities and
Differing layers of wiggly bits
New things for Gig to see!
He is wowed by their dimensions
Tranced by the colour possibilities
of his brain
Touched
Until he tips over some edge
into another world

And does not know the way back
Gone, Gig gone.


Pok

Quite how many days and nights
had gone by and exactly when there
had been dancing, ranting
stamping, clapping
or sleeping was not sure
But now the Nargourds are up to see
dawn spreading out, long before the sun
an azure dome.
Their figures, silhouettes, hop about
and give off swathes of breath, mist in
the cold.
They look around, then put fresh kindling
in the embers
A fine morning
Tea is made in a broken kettle
Those still slumbering stir
The valley was a mess
All around the hill is now an empty
moat, crudely navvied(???) by Goatborg
The Nargourds go down and follow
the circle
And they come to the Cyborg,
Now kneeling, motionless
Having keeled over and got his horns
Stuck in the ground, he looks like one
In intense prayer
The scaffold was still up and
the Nargourds could see Inamorata
doing some work on it and banking
up the chalky soils in two tall mounds
They look back at Goatborg. How sad.
So off the Gourd-shakers go skippingly
to return five minutes later with huge
bunches of wild flowers
They frollick all over the fallen creatre
and decorate him with the colours
They completely enflower him and
sit around waiting for the old Goat
to wake
Which he does
And there is a change in Goatborg.
He naively looked around at the Binga-
Bonga with shy eyes, and tries to get
his horns out of the turf without
looking uncool
He tries for a while until the Nargourds
come and stand close around.


Nargourds

Well, things are come full circle
I suppose, for we are an excellent
crew at dismantling…
machinery
Got any dud connections?
Want one?
Maybe a screw loose
Perhaps a bit of lubrication
Is what you need
Where’s your head to?
We’re all really cut up about
what you’ve been doing.
But we’ve been talking to that lady
over there
And have decided to enrol you
at our enhurucademy
Where you will learn to love flowers


Pok

A tear drops, plop, from the only
metal eye present.


Goatborg

I’m so embarrased


Nargourds

Do you feel really stupid?


Goatborg

Yes


Nargourds

(sniggering) You love her don’t you


Pok

Goatborg could not go red, but
tried to bury his horns deeper
There is a pause, then sniggers from
the goading rabble

Another pause
Then Goatborg gave out a cheery
snuffle, a couple more tears and
swallows
He laughs


Nargourds

He confesses!
You love Inamorata
You love Inamorata
Na na na na na


Goatborg

Oh shut up!


Pok

Just then, Inamorata comes
over riding the living skeleton
of an Aleosaurus
Seated high she sticks a colourfully
bannered pole in the ground


Inamorata

Goatborg – miscreant metallic
Your brow seems to be stuck
to the grass
Do you want something for your head?
Oh I’m sure you’ll be alright
If you don’t rust
Stand up then!


Pok

She reaches over and grabs him by the
forelock
So out come the horns from the earth
and up he, shakily, gets


Inamorata

Caused a bit of havoc, you and
your cronies
Don’t see any of ’em now
Anyway, you’re just in employ
So, is this how you get your kicks?
Wouldn’t you rather ride with me?
Kicks baby


Pok

Inamorata coldly pouts, her
cheekbones glaciers


Inamorata

Your friend is in a state
Look at him, yes the big fellow
with the shades
He’s a little gem I dug up once,
and I would hatefor him to have to
stay in kaleidoscopic reality
forever
I do love him
Your mate Gig is lost in the spaces
between the rainbow
He’s gone doolalley, or will do soon
Trapped in his mind
Your glasses
The eyes you gave him
Done it
You must go and find him, in
the spaces between,
though you don’t know your way
either

Into the realms of imagination real
You’ll need one thing

Yourself

So, go Goat


Pok

Again, she moves toward Goatborg,
this time to whisper something in his
ear
Goatborg looked on, still more
dumbfound
Now she raises the banner high and
there is heard the squeaking of
bicycle wheels
The snake-spiral on the scaffold
begins to rotate and Goatborg is drawn
into it.
His eyes go hazy, then pop open as he
tries to deny it

But it is no use
Goatborg is taken back into his cranium
deep into the medullary ray he goes
as the worms turn
To that same land where Gig has gone
The nargourds are clambering over
Goaty, playing as an amazing
marimba
And
At the last moment of awareness
before the embafflement in his head
took over, Goatborg saw
Inamorata square with him an
enormously jaunty wink.
You know how
Sometimes get them? (???)
* * *

Goatborg blinked; a dull and heavy
world where beasts lashed primaevil tails
Forgotten times flickered past his
Saturated vision
Clapping new wings, his eye of supra-lit
majest broke open,
a seal stamped firm for aeons lifetime
And where Vulture forms sprang from a
vertical plane of grey, they clawed and
clacked at his direction
Their wire feathers stuck stmen in his
throat to make him gag, and there
washed dead rivers
many under
In crevices where no fingers fit
Their eyes shot madness, as he knew
what they were made of was
nothing he had seen before
Peek Poke Peck

And now, unleashed in satin
Goatborg is falling all around to a
zone, flashing yellow
Where sunsharks rove.
Above, a flower of such irridescence
ploughed its message home to the
Goat-with-no-ground,
Planting stars like seed
along the furrow
These he saw live die and be
reborn, tree branch briar
Showering from some place
Silver thoughts and
Mercury berries
And Goatborg woke to his darker
dreams
and felt unable to balance
properly on the smudged green
causeway that he must traverse
This way and that he would teeter
between the glowing and the
sinister
Ever the unpleasant spindle of
discomfort on his spine.
Flashes would pop in his field when
some excursion was done,
the prize for raising thoughts or
the lifting of limbs
So he stares over a balcony of
Changing panoramas,
Cities of the ages
Regressing then to planes
Where Ibu breed
A vast melancholic precipice was
between his eyes
And he could take no more

And only the abject beauty of
each horror lent him solace, scarce less
terrible
Led on by sickly angels, no thing
he touched could be right
So he went of his own
Unwilling to go further into silken folds
He was curled up in a place, nearly
warm, but for a little wind which
blew the security away
Here, then there
He could not trap the genii in his
throat, cheek or lips, for though the
teeth clasped, there was no substance
So he tried to speak
And none came
More, he opened his eyes and
seemed to be looking up at a
pipe
from below
A courtyard in dust, faces
painted with white smears
Their cheeks puff like a toad’s throat
and a form of droning, was it creature,
was it caves rumbling
or the wash of the Nile;
Did bearded lizards and
bandijaps appear
Massive Above and so low,
probing
Were there stories passed on in this
court
where men in tunics could be seen,
their hands and lips moving
but no sound,
Green the palm leaves and donkey’s bray.
To where all sworls eddied along the
edge of that rivers, gold,
the sound of slow cymbals
And sunglint
A woman
her eyes
and hair
a deep
painful tear
a
wrenching
neverending
task
Life, where the swimmin through
seven halos propelled a bullet mind
beyond, between planes
A gasp of air, clawing hungers
And on
the drone
And the cheeks pumping
Listen to our communication
In silence where we live
A crystal vision
You see
Goatborg
Where you live
in breaking domains
Is no longer the same
as you were
Go, silver! gold!
Cymbal Smash
Wisdom
Jewel
Savage Light
On
On
Plateau
Prepared where sphinx
raised head
on tarot’s call
from the travelling people
In velvet
braid
holding out hands where
spin vortices
So Goatborg came to a place
where less frequency
and the waves were calmer
Now his belly rested,
Less harrowing
he could digest
new informations
that enbalmed him
lather
Sensations thrilling in ice touch;

Fingers curling, through which
he now travels

A place where light splits shards
from one point, a territory blinding
to the senses
Forward drawn, hatefully curious
Approaches with footsteps cotton
the warrior in fast armours
Titan of impentrable shields

sleek where patterns on broad
breastplates reflect his name
Shoulder plumes
Shining white protection,
Slits were
No eyes are seen, darting
Behemoth
Bars the way
And could not be denied
No words still
But flashing tongues
Made attempt
Where this guardian stands
And Goatborg crashes his arms
against that cliff of being
Again and Again
Uses all devices he has known
up to now
Of his malignant self
But that they have no use here
For this is no foe
tat can be vanguished
All is different here
In the mind
The Goat feels useless
like candy his fists (???)
Slow motions
in weird worlds
Do not allow his anger
satisfaction
And he bangs
himself to a froth
Where, breaking through the skin
of this dimension
He goes beyond
To wilder jungles
See what life he has been denying

And in they came

animals, creatures

from no land of his birth
Other eyes
Beyond sight
Come from all angles
Not eyes
No senses
Will tell him what they used to know
To guard him from this mind’s
menagerie
Survival now
he has
no choice

no knowledge

Except in slow moments

Glimpses
He feels inner chords
To pluck, note by note
As Bok has shown

A song that soothes

And so, will stay the beasts
Where pulse is tutor
In landscapes unknown
Falling
Not falling
Where was his voice
Separated
from its skin
Out of vision
Not daring to sing
Assuring himself
There was noone there
There was nothing there
Noone could reach him here
Sunk in peril caves
No thing, mute or coiled
Could reach him, shivering
Surging now, waves
Form a foam metropolis
Where the black rams riled vision
This sea’s seahorse sees,
possessing
With the eyes
I must know
Panic Goat – of – no – ground
Your mountain crag
supports no hooves
And Goatborg dares to look down
through his vast torso
where
sharp lime crocodiles
assaulting his sanity
Jabber
Full moon in his eyes
Gone! Too much, he is
Sent back fast splinter
Into the root of a flower

Fall, fall, down cells, calling

Drenching him in jellies
Revitalising.
So, his awed musculature
Relaxes

And Goatborg lets out a long breath
Again
Release

His ancient song
He hears clear cultureal visions
And so strolls into that
Fabled valley
where domes glow
How he be amazed
rearranged
How he never believed how belief

Creates his day
And suddenly realising
As whacked by a branch
He is flung back; smashed,
but lovingly
For wood nymphs giggle
And allow him to fall on downs (???)
* * *

Where, waking up in purple grass
Goatborg’s eyes open to see a sky
Full of Rainbows
And all about were white stars twinkling
Where surely would lie other worlds
Suggesting
Never had he seen this before
His body glowed with travelling lights
He felt himself rising
Swayed by waves
Sick to the pit
It was unbearable
Help me please
Goat called in his Goat heart


Bok

Tear
the veil
The enchanted garden
Where Maenads play
The lake
Where is love’s consummation
Go there now
Splash in the waters of
Your hearts desire
Remember
Your ancestral realm
Go into the water


Pok

So he did, beneath the rainbow sky
and all around played shrill pipes
Maidens poured from urns
and the growing green edges
loving
to the water
Goatborg bathes, his body silvering
Until the moon opens full
And he does no fear her
But drinks instead
Stunned into love
To feel his own heart
and know
One
With it
So now the spiral whirls once more
And again we are transported
Goat Crag
Stood before him
Gleeful
Goatborg finds he can
Climb to its height
and feel the wind
And there
Registered a profound
Recognition
Spirit,
That swells him with joy
He savours
Then jumped into forever
Borne now on the throbbing pulse
of Drones
Goatborg discovers he can fly
Sees below, villages
All directions he can go
through all stars
Where transport’s delight
Becomes a new life of possibilities
Just as the lake’s quenching gave him
Vigour to go there
So he is going,
And soon finds Gig
Still playing
Quite happy
Until Goatborg scares him witless
And they fall to tears
And embraces
Gig had found his own way
He knew it long ago
So together they tread
Towards where the halos lie
Those seven halos
Wherein they place themselves
To return
Easily
Once more to their senses.
Camelot’s trumpets awake
Rejoice
The hill is lit with flares
Faces beam, people
Hop, skip
Sing
Do their thing
As arfar carouses
And Inamorata watches
Goatborg came to in the shade of a
tall mound
Two dome earth works the woman
has made, between them the scaffold
Around, proud dinosaurs stand
Their longs necks
Their thunderous feet
Inamorata strides to the base of the
nearest mound.
The banner is in her hand and
She wears a revealing red and gold
Jester’s smock
She jumps into the air,
Waiving her arms, legs and screeching
She has been waiting
And now, sees the bodies
Stir
When they have lain so long
Gig, Goatborg, lain still, now to more
So Inamorata levels her eye at the Goat
Presents,
Grapes
And starts to walk up the mound


Inamorata

Stand
Come
Go up
the
other
Mound


Pok

So they, Goatman and black woman
Climb respective hills
And survey the lands.
Goatborg sees Inamorata
has styled a huge
natural amphitheatre
From his cutting
Made, and that it is new with Bok’s
wearing weeds, roots and flowers
People are flocking to this place
here, meet, bringing
spirit and joys
And now we cheers
Alive! We live! We grow!
Feel your way Goatborg
says Inamorata
You are not as before I see
what has got to you?
How, has experience changed you
You seem mellower
Say something
Speak
Goatborg called over the gap
I have been truly in my minds life
Those many places I visited have
filled me
With knowing, and relevant
Information
I see how useless, in the face of
forever
It is to do anything else but fly
Our angry struggles, when unbridled
Will loose all karma back at you
And lash you with your own tail
I have heard
an inner song
that comes from bottomless chasms
the voice I so despised
Is louder that all my wailing mendacity
And now
I must bow
For I feel in more knowledgeable
Company
Lady, you have enhuru’d me


Pok

Inamorata preened as Goatborg lowered
his head
How gallant
You see, hear, I have arranged a festival
For your return
It might be good if fates entwined
So I was talking to Bok right now
And the Goats should be here soon
In fact, here they come now.
Let them remind you of the song
If it’s lost I’m sure they’ll know it
For hear, all the tribe are
joining the tune
Down there by the fire
What are they burning?
Machinery?
Playing it too
Better watch it Goatborg
Let’s go down
I’ll look after you
So they stroll up to the circle
Of being
And there as well as
Nargourds
Are many Starats
Keeping warm by the flames
Listening to the musics
So our larger than life pair
mingle with the other folk
who grow in story
Met, many races,
here at St. Catherine’s
Singing a song we all choose
As bards sparkle in their moments
and Bok shorls all in his
protective wings
And it was that night,
Many songs were sung
Until, at last, Goatborg breathes
His own eulogy
To the past
And joins nature in her own song
At once it agreed
that this was a better harmonic
than before
And all rose on the rotating rhythm
than now, revelling,
Goatborg recommends
that Spirine (???)
play his steel panels once more
So when, hearing the clamour
mixed with Borg’s joyous gurglings
Perepetic Goats, Gargalax
Godzollocks and Cronk
those whose marracas
are starballs
Join in
Knights aeolian, sons and lasses
Lunitine
And songster solites
All jangle their clangers
As make the moon music
Or beat the gong
That shimmers sun
Makes us know our dreams are come
And all eyes at once do oen up
See pouring from her golden cup
Guinevere, her face the sky
Pouring watkers from up high
See that Goat and Gig within
And drenched in rain begin to sing
A story, older far than all the rest
That they knew best
For had been there
And now remembered
Ancestral lay (???)
The balance of the wheel goes round
To uproot the roads
For there’s no map
That can encompass this territory
This experience
This freedom
Where like a crack of light at first
Soon becomes the day

Dinosaurs form domes
From their bones
And it (???) did shield a harmony
On the scene
And into the new
this glorious crew
Come streaming with
Song and tale ablaze
Come to make a better days
To turn the corn, to tread the maze
And open up and look around
See really what is going down
Goat and Gig are raised high above
Everyone is welcome
Old masterfools
And there is a procession under the moon
Round the hill three times were took
This Borg, who’d been mistook
The Giant too, they’d had a look
And saw a world, unlike their own
But into which, we, now are going
So, Inamorata, gave us shout
Goatborg circles, round about
Healing turning, healing how
We make the sound that makes the now
And see, if you can, if you could
The girl and goat went to the wood
And did not return
Till very long
When need of words, of huru song
Calls them;
Celebrate, happy throng
Then they will come
At any time
Come,
to sing their ancient rhymes
So hark and hear
A message clear
Bring your friends,
Have no fear
Down to this hill,
Where legends lay
Come you here
and come today
For future holds a fable fine
Though we walk now an even line
‘Twixt fall and safe,
but whose to know
P’rhaps a verse, a silly show
Can ring the change, that’s come
We know
And join in hard won peace to last
For thru struggle dire
this new age blasts
For there is faith
and there is art
And we will go along our path
Our weary feet, our Goaty cart
A true road, for it is not seen
Which is where this tale has been
Thankyou very much

 


pok

 


 

 

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *