WYRD Diary

stories from "Cosmic Radio"

Medusa

You loved me enough to let me leave
You're too simple to be deceived
You're too honorable to believe
In anything but what you see
I didn't mean,
What I mean is,
I didn't mean to pretend
That I meant anything
But what I said
"to the mirror"
I fell victim of vanity and a goddess' revenge

No one sheds a tear for medusa
You were beautiful then jealousy betrayed you
And all the hearts that love you turn to stone
All of the hearts that love you turn to stone

I carried you when you stumbled
To tell the truth I was troubled
You carried me when I crumbled
But I was anything but humble
I wasn't mean
What I mean is,
I didn't mean to hurt you
But I meant anything but what I said
To the mirror
I fell victim of vanity
And a goddess' revenge

One night I sat on out on the porch of my mother's farm in Texas,
enjoying a full moon and the crickets. I had a bottle of bourbon, my
guitar and a pen and paper.As it often happens, an idea struck to meld
a personal life experience with an archetypal creature who might better tell my tale.
In this evening it was Medusa who wanted to blend her myth with my music,
but she did so in the voice of Stevie Nicks.
I wrote the first verse quickly,blurted it out and as the chorus began
to reveal itself, I kept hearing Stevie Nicks saying, "keep it simple".
And I would throw in more words and I would hear again that uniquely
identifiable, but quite imagined, disembodied voice, "didn't you hear me?
I said keep it simple, think about Rhiannon." So at least a page of
words got thrown in the trash. They weren't needed. What was needed was
my exorcising the hideous power of jealousy and its repercussions from
a wound in my heart and into the pen.
Whether it was the whiskey or the moon, or the Welsh Witch herself,
that carved this song for me, I thank the muse who brought it.

Charming

you're the perfect pandora,who'd think she'd come back a man
why have enough when there's more, eye on the bush and two birds in hand

you're cliché
Casanova with crayons for coloring
crisis for captivating angels
play the universe's smallest harp for thee
songbird you hypnotized is so grateful
to be free of charming
the prince of tarts
Charming is stealing hearts
Charming leaving you for dead
Charming for a spell
charming
he will sell your soul and go
"Off with your head"

From beyond reanimating the high priest of LoveCraft to waking up
with a sugar plum fairy shooting the finger at fate

you're cliché...

Go off
like milking the sacred cow who jumped over the moon
he ran away with my reason and rhyme
but i remember the tune,
"beware the man who's so charming
it's cliché"

Ah you know the type, the romance of the ages, the promises of a lifetime
of soulsharing perfection. It really does only exist in novels dear ones…
I wrote this while I was playing a fantasy faire outside of Ft Worth called Hawkwood.
I was living in my van on the weekends,and playing four shows a day.
On a break one swealtering august afternoon,staring out at the graveyard I parked next to,
This all formed in my head. Of course, I know this man, believed in him, and loved him well.
But that doesn't keep a teller of tales from telling on themselves now does it?
For some references, rent the Lovecraft inspired films "Reanimator' and
"From Beyond",The rest is the stuff of fairy tales.
The kind you tell to little girls to scare them to sleep at night.

Walter's bird

There was a crooked man of seventy or so
Who had no one to love and a life of cash to blow
Had a stretch and driver, called the man "peanut"
Loved to crack his whip in the company of sluts
But it's not as bad as it seems
When all is said and done
It never cost you nothing
And everyone had fun

"More,more,more sugar please,"
sit on daddy's knee
if you want it
you gotta say the word
you could be Walter's bird

a fouteen year old dancer with deep and ancient eyes
sells her innocence to the snow white god of lies
fillin' up her pockets when she can't fill a bra
a bullet, a bikini, and the sweetest smile of all
there's no exploitation
there's only yes or no
and if you hear him calling
you have gotta go

"more,more,more sugar please…"

Walter was a crusty old geezer, a good ol boy Texas oilman who
fed,clothed,housed,and sent to rehab a bevy of strippers. He was famous
for croaking in his Houston drawl,"Where are my birds?"
and they would flock to his side.
I remember one night at a club, he sent a terrifically beautiful blonde
Penthouse Playmate up to the stage to request "Dog and Butterfly" from
me, she handed me a hundred dollar bill to sing it. I never knew his
last name, but I have fabulous memories of being in his company.

Soak in I

i'm not the me
i need to be someone
like you knew me
princess got a lot
to give it all away
i would
like to hold you at tension
release a new invention
i've been thinking of telling you
i've been thinking of selling you

salvation
come in the water's nice
salvation
to swim in paradise
soak in i
take a dip and save your soul
in the royal fingerbowl

you're not the only one to try and fail
in misery you've been a lot of fun
with mirrors i'm not sure if i see you
or my self in your eyes
i've been thinking of telling you
i've been thinking of selling you

salvation
if you can forgive yourself
salvation
if you can live with the guilt
so can i
take a dip and save your soul
in the royal fingerbowl

i heard the answer to your prayer was no
two people can really turn into one
if spirits' blindsided
in every direction
no where to hide
from the feeling
i'm telling you
got the feeling i'm selling you

salvation...

I heard a songwriter that I wished to absorb, that means
beyond mere admiration, but an instant fandom of extreme sensibility.
This is a rare experience for me. That someone can reach beyond
their eloquent turn of phrase,the skill of their voice,their unique
delivery and simply capture me and render me speechless.
This happened to me when I saw Royal Fingerbowl on a bitter cold
December night at the Mermaid in New Orleans. The songwriter is
Alex McMurray, a morbid humourist, a brilliant storyweaver, and
a delight to listen to in any way he cares to share his talents.
After driving my roommate crazy listening to RF's two records
nonstop for about a month, I realized the songwriter in me wanted to
say something back.
I imagined a painting when I first heard Alex sing:
It was an eight year old boy with twinkling eyes, a tuxedo hanging
much too big for his size,wearing converse all-stars and the chain from
a harley wallet dangling down around his knees. He was standing on a
soap box dipping both his hands into a holy water basin, with a 'just
tell me not to' glare in his eyes.
This song is me talking to that painting.

(McMurray lives in New Orleans and is in a project right now called
The Tinmen,singing and playing dobro, with Matt Perrine on sousaphone,
and Chaz on washboard.Expect a record soon!
Royal FingerBowl was screwed by their record company,but the records are out there
and it is worth your time to find 'em; "Happy Birthday Sabo" and "greyhound afternoons")

Rope

Teetering on tightropes
What a business smelling elephants and crying clowns
You perform at midnight for the court and crickets
I keep doing my thing for the crowd
It isn't that I mind pulling up stakes
The big time is a roving big top, girl
It's easy to not grow up here but we did
In between the sideshow and the lost and found

Welcome my friend
To the bitter end
Some might call it heaven
Well, bless my soul, is it time to go?
Someone cut the rope and I am flying
It's a good day for dying

In the court of miracles you're ageless
Climb aboard my carousel and see
Mr. Dark will show time means nothing
No one here believes in gravity

Welcome my friend…

This is a tribute to rennies, touring rockers, gypsies of all types.
You do what you do because it is what you do. I was inspired long
ago by Ray Bradbury's "Something Wiched this Way Comes."
For some reason it has stuck in my consciousness in the shape
of a nightmare intrigue since I read it as a kid. The other writer who
influenced this tune was Depak Chopra in his "Return Of Merlin,"
the feeling of the quest being for the quest, the journey.
When I first wrote,"it's a good day for dying", I remember asking my
friend Ginger if I was being too morbid. Her assurances that it was
right to say have paid off in conversations with listeners ever since.
I have heard a Native American tell me that it was his tribe's
creed and felt honored by my nod to them, and more than a few
Klingons have expressed a grunt of approval.

Dungeon

I met a vampire's daughter with my name
her mother had three centuries behind her
yellow-eyed,skin alabaster,reptilian laughter
inviting me to the feast of the dead

meet me in the dungeon
i can't sleep with this love opening me deep
i feel your heart beat
for the last time
that i dared
to dream
i wept for all the secrets
must be kept
where the sun never shines

i touched the prince of dumain
with his oak staff and poppy seed smile
calming spirits slept in ol' voodoo arms'
salvidor dali stairs
and his air made me a tonque of metal

meet me in the dungeon...

drank with darwin and the missing link
and danced to music bound to stunt our evolution
lightning swallowed up the angels
and all that's left with wings are bats on bourbon street

I was on tour with Velvet Hammer. We went to New Orleans for the very
first time. My only introduction to the seductive streets of Nola had
been through the pages of Ann Rice. The city lavished its grandiose and
dark mysteries on us immediately. That first night we played in a club in Fat City (or Metarie
if you are looking at a map). A girl named Dana came to me, she was quite pale.
Her eyes were yellow gold. She told me her mother was 300 years old andthat she was
the daughter of a vampire. She then invited me to Ann Rice's Halloween Ball,unfortunately being on tour,
I declined and never found out how serious she was.
In the disco attached to the rock club, I met a man whose name was Darwin, we kept being interrupted by a
short,wirey disheveled person who reminded me of Terry Gilliam's character Patsy from Monty Python's
Holy Grail flick. The band stayed in an old rooming house behind Voodoo Charlie's Voodoo
Museum.(bless you Charlie,rest in peace) The stairs swayed with a hundred or
more years of moisture melting the wood into a swirling curve of ascension. We gazed at moonflowers at
three am that were the size of our heads.A petite man with a large staff, wearing a cloak came to greet us,
his name was Prince.He gave us blessings and walked with us through the scarier parts of the Quarter.
We went in and out of bars, the same night, mind you that we had played and closed down the club in Fat City.
Every time we poked our heads down an alley, or felt the shadow of danger, Prince would appear at our sides
to calm us.We headed for the Dungeon, a wonderful split level gothic haven of spirits,dancing and atmosphere.
I wanted to remember every piece of that magical introductionto a town that now holds many beautiful memories for me.
(My sister, Debbie Davis, now lives and sings there.) But "Dungeon" is a piece ofTime, a night of indelible memory,
that I wanted to share with everyone. The music is meant to be a tribute to two divergent yet symbiotic cultures
that Ann Rice introduced me to. The versesreflect the pace and rhythm of her glorious vampires, while the chorus
salutes the Irish Channel and the sanctuary of the pub.

stories from "Embryosis"

Embryosis

I write to keep
Track of where
I have been
The cosmic
Egg
Scrambled
Breaking down beginnings
And ending
Up with songs
For those
Who walk between the worlds
I was listening to you

I promise to be here
as long as you live
to know there is some one
who understands
all you've been til now
you've never tested your wings
I know
I promised to love you
the rest of my life that never changes
but everything else does
'specially my love
it keeps on
changing faces but you remain the same

never grow old
if you never grow up
long as you keep on
moving never say
forever never ends
in someone crying for the love of some
One dying and someone else coming to life

if you write your oath upon my page...
don't you think?
that will bind you
and family
that you've embraced
are now a part
of your wheel

never grow old...

i promise to let you know
all of me
never a secret, never decieve
even if it is the one thing
that will make you leave

never grow old...

you will always be my best friend

lives change, but love remains.isn't that beautiful?

Song for Mary

I am my sister's keeper
I am my mother's child
Dust and water walking
on a sea of Time

She is me

I have my Father's temper
I am his softer side
I have his lustful laughter
and his stubborn pride

He is me

It's in its' nature
The tortoise and the scorpion
Take it cross the river
And you both will be undone

She is free

I keep my sisters' memories
In my song she lives and breathes
Bayou hummingbird
At twice the speed of sound
I wish you were still around

You and me

I am just the story-teller
Painting colors of what was
and what will be
is Forever
and All Ways
Unseen

What will be
What will be
What will be

This is inspired by a dear friend, her brave and loving family,
and the sister that they lost.
This song is for Holly Maddux.

Labor Day
(words by catherine burge/music by dana davis)

hey little lady, your mama's gone crazy
and daddy has left you alone
what do you say to a sweet little baby
with no safe place to call home
do you dream sweet dreams
lying in your basket
floating down a river of pain
do you laugh and smile
at all the strange faces
that are telling you who to blame

do you fell in me the love
and the blessing rockin' you here
in my chair
waiting
for you to find your own heaven
only no one seems to know where
will you grow to be pretty
like your mama
will you wonder where
she got it wrong
will you grow to know
all of the unanswered
you knew
all along

Leave a Light On

green apple days
summer is on its way
don't forget to say your prayers
and i'll leave a light on
Mother is always there
don't be afraid of the dark

Close your eyes
Dream,child dream
when you wake

I'll sing you to sleep
I'd give my soul to keep you safe
from the weight of the world

Close your eyes
dreamchild
dream of wonderland
meeting Peter Pan
sleep, my little lamb
where you won't have to grow up
and i'll leave a light on

Tramps

suzie played fiddle for buster
he was the bottom line
dakota george and i
so high
were there to help him
pass the time
nobody metioned the dolls
no,baby
no body had a past
the grand façade was all you got
and it was never meant to last
hey, didn't i love you?
what was your last name?

we were tramps
and proud
camp and loud
a vamp and clown
and new york loved us
don't tell mama
i'm not going home
it's six am and the bars never close

i'm as high as my heels
riding the wheel of fortune
high as my heels walking home in the morning

jaco was bouncing off the walls
clutching a basketball
gave it a throw
and he said his soul was in there
hold it in my arms
we were both jammin' to spirit
and then he fell asleep
i never heard him play
they say he could make the angels weep
hey, don't i know you?
what was your claim to fame?

we were tramps...

The NYC life I led…my dear friend George Sanders (Dakota George) as my guide thru a bright city world
where we weretoasted, wined,and saturated with the nights of music and mayhem.Suzie Tyrell is a gorgeous redhead
with a sparkling voice and virtuoso chops on the electric violin. Buster is Buster Poindexter,(who is also David Johansen),
but I never met David in the flesh,he was always wearing Buster. Jaco Pastorius was the greatest innovator on the electric bass,
we met him for just a moment at theLone Star Cafe about two months before his tragic death, he was in
no real condition for conversation ,but the basketball story is all true.
George Sanders can be found at NYC's Don't Tell Mama's performing on weekends
when he is not on tour.

F'aderyn du

Standing on the edge of the world
You are standing in the doorway beckoning
I can hear the whispers
of the Other
Undiscovered territory
Sailing out beyond the mists
into knowing
what I am becoming
who I might have been
to have landed here again

Happier than I have ever been
Before
tasting Freedom without fear
for the first time
Feel the Summer
turning of the wheel
as Time
warm his fingers
running through my hair

There be no elemental
Time
Beyond
There Is Here Be Dragons
in the mist
I found f'aderyn du
and he was laughing
when he said, "I have a song for thee"
We will be here
Til here be there
We will become
Once upon a Time
We will All Ways Be
Here til we go
Where
No
One Follows

Open says me
Oh, I am ready
Open says he

As my castle walls are bound
To the Ages
Echoing the tales of lives gone by
I can see the future
In between
remembering
The look in your eyes

There be no Elemental Time Beyond
There is Here
Be Dragons in the mist I found
F'aderyn du and he was laughing
Then he said,"I have a song or three"
We will be here
Til here be there
We will become Once
Upon a Time
We will always be here
Til we go
Where no one follows...

F'aderyn Du is "My Blackbird" in Welsh, this is dedicated to the essence of otherworldly traveler
and storyteller Taliesin, and to the spirit of the blackbird who stands in the doorway between realms.

Chill

as waves beyond the winter still to icicles
cut my mouth upon the edges of my soul
if I could melt to tender
what has begun to freeze
in between Miss Understanding
and her beast-eyed green
i am waiting for another message
in a bottle
tipped to empty
all my words
as useless
as my walls against this

You think she walks on water
You drink from deep within her well
While you're swimming at her alter
You and the heat start to rise
From the ice in her eyes
She is melting your will
And all that's real
And all I feel
And all I feel is a chill

snow white wandered in
this time the mirror asked
and out of her silence
he began to crack
"never in my life have I beheld such beauty,
nor will I again for she can see right through me"
I am waiting for another splinter
of my drowning memory
to carve me
a doorway
out of my glass

I think she walks in my dreams
She seeks to peek behind my veil
She keeps sprinkling salt on my screams
And as the demons take shape
Quivering lips salivate
They devour my will
And all that's real
And all I feel
And all I feel is a chill

Festival

it rained from Fairie Glen to Heartland to Four Quarters
who can tell if it'll pay off in the end
We know a lot abot eachother
and yet who knows if this has happened before
or if it only feels that way

We cut into the earth while you were putting JC in
She put on quite a show for all good Christian memorials
Celebrating her way with the cauldron
at the other JC's alter
all the crosses buried in the closet
While Annie led a spiral dance between the pews

They blew bubbles from 85 cars in procession
Gypsy Moon draped over the pine box
that the coffee table came in

They even felt the rain on Bleeker, four nights in a row
We barely made enough to pay the toll
But how we played the gay piano after hours

Nicodemus flushed her mag light but she got it
working with a book of Pete's beat poems

Nighthawk drummed up demons
Freedom tripped the dark fantastic
Dame Cabot lay down her working sword

Night jamming Wisteria the strings of Green Crown
singing rain hammering Hearts "Dream of the Archer"
Parris promised me "The Armegeddon Rag"

Twinkle Shanem Falconfire the stars can hear us laughing
raising up a stone for all us children
for all us children

Weavers in the web to light Orion's candle
The flame goes away but the magic stays

This is a chronicle of the Velvet Hammer "rain tour" of '97, the band, the van,
meeting so many beautiful souls along the way, and sharing amazing
epiphanies, losing a few to the other side, and their reaching out to give us more to tell.

"All is love", she said
The word is yes
I understand the way you feel
I was there
When the star fell from the sky
Your tears remind me of butterflies
Don't tell me how to face the mourning
I'll find my way
Until the dawn

Love is all I need
Love is all to me
Love is all

"All in time", he said
the words will come
now go to bed
dream of nothing
but you always hear when spirits call
only to remind me that
love is all
don't give me faith for I've blasphemed
don't feed me hope
it tastes like greed
love is all I need
love is all to me
love is all

Rick had this incredible music, it became our first collaboration under the
Butterfly Tree. When he gave it to me ,the first words came immediately,
Up until the point at which I wrote 'now go to bed…dream of nothing'.
But I didn't dream of nothing, I dreamt of being in a room with John Lennon.
The next morning before heading off to work, the rest of the lyric spilled out,
starting with "But you always hear…" .and finishing the second verse.
I have to thank that dream for some of the most poignant words to
filter from the other side thru my pen. Thank you Mr. Lennon for the inspiration,
for then, for now and for ever.