Peyote Zygote & 13xChicon [Lyrics]

From ‘Wyvern Fun’:

The first five or maybe six songs in this section are what constitute Peyote Zygote, which, though discordant, is interrelated mostly through the methodology worked in its composition — altogether written in the same period of a few days, in three or four sittings. Exercising simply the act of putting out an abundance of material as opposed to the meticulousness, which is more my schtick generally. The songs detail a fairly vague conceptualization of a relationship fraught with hyper-sexual passions as well as stark fiscal inequality (‘story’s hit its ceiling’) and subtle manipulations (‘polly dodo’). It isn’t very rooted in anything related to my own life, but imagining diverse characters is fascinating to me, especially in dealing with ugly or hyperbolic scenarios and behaviors.

Otherwise, ‘vlasic brain’, ‘marbleized’ and ‘a splendid oeuvre’ are included mostly because they were also written in three different sittings and largely left alone afterwards. ‘vlasic brain’ I forget what it ever was about, only that I wrote it in my downtime working in a hospital cafeteria. ‘a splendid oeuvre’ was my favorite product in a series of image-inspired speedwriting sessions, and ‘marbleized’ is the same, if edited to include choruses sometime afterwards.

The last three songs are taken from 13 x Chicon, which was the fourteen songs I originally wanted to release on the debut album — Invertebrate Musings’ songs come from this body of work too. After coming to terms with the fact that I was working with rudimentary equipment and software (iPhone + GarageBand) and my own mediocre guitar skills compared to what I desired from a lot of the music, these three songs among others were left off. But thematically they come from the same source of experiences and time period that the EP’s songs do, though ‘sistine looming’ and ‘perique’ are written about abstract characters without any real basis in my own life. ‘inks ave’ is one of the most vulnerable pieces I’ve written about myself, particularly about that house which was a disturbed and chaotic environment for everyone who lived there.

In all honesty I consider Peyote Zygote the weakest part of the book.
Visit here to read further in the booklet.

“story’s hit its ceiling”

sew all yr azonal seeds
abuse yr petty royalty and
hypochondriac mistrust
yr watered down theatrics rust
it’s queer how starved yr ego is so well-fed…
you’ve barely finessed wretchedness
you’ve failed to fuck away distress
and crawled into a glorified motel bed

impress yr subjectivity
articulate toxicity
this is as jaded you can make-believe
rubbers on electricity
oblique synchronicity
it was empathy enabling

I’ll leave

it is as though my hands are tied
as gagged and bound as like some nights
this rags to riches story’s hit its ceiling
and nothing has been misconstrued
I swallowed pride that you had bruised
I had no dignity in Darjeeling

be offended by my leave-taking
I had an instinct of cremating
us then I just put it all behind

I’ll leave

I’m so over oxidized
I’m so over this disguise
we have never been surprised between us
smart asses butting our heads
antagonists breaking bread
we have got so bored that we found jesus
plugged up aortic valves
nothing but casual vows
and I’m just moving muscles say’n ‘I love you’, we’ll
butt out like pall malls
separate and that is all
this got inevitable not askew

he and I
I’ve been feeling so see-thru
purple prose
so it goes
I feel like a CPU

“polly dodo”
alibis corneal to naïveté
yr conspiracy is laughing like hyenas bray
take tranquility from Quasimodo
I parroted yr pirouetting, I’m a Polly dodo

you locomotivate
I can’t echolocate
I can’t begin to tweak
paranoiac mystique

can loquacity be a panacea
bet yr kindred spirits are also Mentat alum
and pennyroyal points of contention
with cute affectations or disguised ad hominem

you locomotivate
I can’t echolocate
speak a tremolo rate
murmur piccolo bait

“papav’rine gotye”
what is this papav’rine gotye
calligraphied je t’aime in dossiers
of myriad metamorphosed mu’sets
give me a polymorphic auwe

the serpent’s head, the engine’s rev
the astral shoots, the turkeyed glutes
the Babylonian altitude
higher, higher, high…
the acme geyser, the pile driver
the gubraithian fire
the stymied French, the fragrant stench
the dyin’ of thirst, the pinwheel burst
bizarre acrobatic love we make
aphrodisiac and retrograde

get off on yr arachnid vice
sugarcane and citrus spice
bang remnant virginity
lubricate difficulty
this love shortcut the crash course
you put yr cart before my horse
melodies sgraffito noise
gay duets, internecine joys
spirits harmonizing to brine
‘til you fruitfully called our fringe ‘rind’
let’s undress us and ricochet
effluvia on this soaked place
our fae dusks play punk at people
you make me feel something surreal

on this trippy barstool I’m precarious
drinking, thinking trains of thought so various
I’m looking for you who can keep me velvet
I want romance like how a fairy tale ends
I am putty in yr hands
I am s’ghetti in my mind
I am giddy in my heart

spontaneous in a linear way
this is mostly nonsense on the airwaves
I’ve taken two seconds on this two cents
my honest advice is be a nuisance
don’t worry who is the better gerard
licentious before you are debarred
this is mostly nonsense on the airwaves
love bites us when its worn out and serrate
you do a crazy thing to me, to me, baby

I am slutty in yr hands
I’m a dummy in my mind
I am giddy in my heart
I’ll be yr star-crossed valentine with love like the Pacific
believe I am not alkaline and I won’t be acidic
I am fisted in my heart
I am coming in yr arms
I am melting in yr hands
I am pissing in my heart

“vlasic brain”
I’m a sus leprechaun
honey’s wild oats xandu khan
smoked peyote since as a zygote
kinship with a decrepit spigot
radioactive imaginary figments
cool but there’s no one else here to dig it
cut to break & cowboy killers
hyperactive for a mundane distiller
stellium in Capricorn makes a willer
for all the made-up words febriler
a zen schizo sphygmoid & iller
choleric mantras of keep going
b-sides, irony spores, ac/dc subcognitive germination
the ophiuchus collection
but I’m a weepy punk
a dreary bunk
I’m a moo duck
a wolverine yuk foo
of fucking weirdness a gumshoe
but a mental roarin’
I dn’t look too much at me because that mirror can get rorrim
pseudo-spatial hyperawareness and head germs
twitching soaps and snapped synapses
out of the molasses headspace where memory lapses
jesus I would let my stream-of-consciousness pickle a sec in vlasic

a birdless sky over the Tularosa depression, spent ten hours against the dusty road, Colorado emptied thru Mescalero, arrived in a millennium’s bed of gypsum in a bottomed-out, churning yet void landscape. dead zone as a signal. we were islands in that austere marbled tundra to be caught in a caustic desert storm of our manifestation.

I’ve chased you into the wind
looked into the parhelion
into the bright mirage
through the dawn and beyond
how did I

you cannot choreograph the reconstruction. there are granular heirlooms rippling and echoes in the buzz, foley giver. yr trading in oblique carpentry.
opaque the barley eviscerating generations of ol’ boys.
tell the texan battlements crooning to cannon fodder.
behold, the low desert martianscape contours the reaches of woolgathering.
the russet parataxis just unnerves.
now merely antiheroic on plaques, in verse.
antiquity and romantic vainglory
yr newfound antebellum and the shudra parqueted. a storied
time stands still
& times is hard and lonely.

I’ve chased you into the wind
looked into the parhelion
into the bright mirage
through the dawn and beyond
how did I

there are no occasions for the wilted champaign
no titian fields barbed or riven
no manifest destiny tinged with regret
no general hollowed out by rotgut
way to ignore my calling in the wind
way to ignore my calling in the wind
way to ignore my calling in the wind
way to ignore my calling in the wind

even if I picked up something from earth
if I swam naked through the marbleized dirt
home is gone, gone with you (“homeless you could end up and look behind”)
but we can all catch up too (“…and see that I have recovered mine”)
now with time

“a splendid oeuvre”
kraftwerk doppelgängers larking
just like pedestrian fungi
buoyed by bergamot and poppies
a chrysalis or Charybdis high
what a dazzling sphinx’s cosmos whose foyer we intern in, and

earthly love is an alizarin gyroid devoid of
aliquot adages or thespian obelisks, but
worldly love is often prone to geoid hemorrhoids &
defibrillated gyrating passionate huzzahs
…but what a splendid oeuvre
it would be to see you all—

“my zigzag froufrou friends and I swivel hippily
w/ our leopard prongs & dandy menageries &
carousing sylvan carols. lithe ligaments of
papyrus manrays and dollops of carmine cochineal
adorned the fringes of our drag raiment
which we esteemed exquisite but chris price cried
our chrysalis gaudy. so we limped back into
haberdasheries for simpletons’ slacks & sighed.
& I thought,
‘chris is as toxic as closed chakras of coccyges.’”

fallacious phallaceae in
Dionysian arboretums
sung tetrahedral choruses
to yr apopemptic kisses
my cris de coeur were not pyrrhonic yawps because yr

earthly love is an alizarin gyroid devoid of
aliquot adages or thespian obelisks, and
worldly love is often prone to geoid hemorrhoids &
defibrillated gyrating passionate huzzahs
but what a splendid oeuvre
so we paraded deranged

“sistine looming”
if it’s a bona fide façade
it feels more like sistine looming
it’s garage genre killjoy jihad
yr much too young too young to be
what? he hijacked the intercom
spouted visceral hysteric pomp
escorted out with a sly grin
yet you look happier than I am

hey I’m not yelling at you
there’s no mellow in you
but who’s gonna tell ‘em you say
yeah you
not you

there’s protein in yr acidgazing
caffeinated veggie brain
metaphysic isotopes
different ideas in the same vein
rules of thumb balled in fists
a martyr or a masochist
yr so stuffed like a lack of fiber
hot air bursting from a human geyser
yr more like a spider than a fucking fighter
yr just burning not an igniter
not yelling obscenities at you
there’s no gelling camaraderie with you
but who’s gonna tell em you say
not you

bless me, blaspheme
blaspheme, bless me

she had a shameless champagne kiss
sacred as her crossed necklaces
she nightly married perique lips
we spent the daylight in eclipse

bless me, blaspheme
blaspheme, bless me

fire and brimstone didn’t scare
we were too hell-bent up the stairs
worn out of her Sunday night best
smoked merlot-kissed cigarettes

I’m colored by her lovesick stain
channel love to a holy drain
we were already friends with all the outcasts
call it exile, call it progress

bless me, blaspheme
blaspheme, bless me

“inks ave”
ketamine as vitamins
bezique, board games and routine gin
lupine ohm, exodian mirage
blocked chakras and miyazaki
I was sorry for you and sorry for me
we’d hold the most ambivalent séance

this is the inks ave
this is my inks ave

curmudgeonly serfdom of id
the junkyard of aborted kids
careworn in a beat aquarium
kicked rocks in the creek beneath
the monorail train graffiti’d
sped and tagged highways at 4am

this is my inks ave
this is the inks ave
behind the door colored fuchsia
the arpeggiating minutiae

apaches finesse panache
seraphs tariff each caress
in a bed of rocks, yr xandu khan
what is 13th x chicon
monotone in a cyclone
the house of everlasting denouement