New Song - Cast the Immaculate Shadow
Could cause epileptic seizures.
Listen at Inhuman Genome Project.
Could cause epileptic seizures.
Listen at Inhuman Genome Project.
The hits keep on coming. This one will cause brain tumors.
Listen at Inhuman Genome Project.
You can’t understand the words of a man
Who adopted a firm stance while you just uncomfortably glanced
I hate to see the fall of me in you, but you knew
I’ve been here before, I’ve felt where you’re sore
Tried to give you the tour, to show you there’s more
But now you have to learn the lessons that incessantly curse my mind at its essence
My path was my own because I knew my direction
I knew what to learn, and knew how to earn it
While you only begin to discern it, it has become my life, my pain, my wife
And no knife could ever cut this from the collective mind of the ancient
The mind we all comprise if you’d just open your eyes like I
Angelic prose composed with ink on the stem of this dead rose
Gripping the thorns, adorning the page with the blood that is born
The more that I bleed, the more I see her image with vision blurred
And words become slurred, mind no longer sensing the things that occur
Alone in this room, my doom, holding this withered and blood-soaked bloom
Curtains and Insomnia. Insomnia is an older song that is new to my Myspace profile, but Curtains is brand new.
More stuff on the way shortly.
Listen now at Inhuman Genome Project.
Just completed a new song to feast on your gourde. Kind of a Coltrane meets Beelzebub sort of tune. It's called Stink Weed. Listen and leave comments telling me how much it made your brain tumor grow. I need to add the data to my spreadsheet.
Music is available in streaming format at Inhuman Genome Project.
InhumanGenome.com now has a new site design. It's not 100%, but close enough. Check it out and give some feedback. The new site includes streaming audio of all songs.
http://www.inhumangenome.com/
The truth is upsetting
Self deceit wedding my former self with a version sought
With settling aversion to loss of my virgin thoughts
I construct a new costly abode sheltering me from this sweltering heat
Saving me neatly from a smoldering head full of dreadful foreboding
A pulsating home wrought of materials that ought never erode
An enclosure of myth manufactured in my fractured mind captured in time
This sanctuary of warm yet war-torn memories
The burden I love, for no gifts from above could ever enrapture me to this painful degree
Although I sometimes see the way, the price I'm forced to pay
Though willingly, is stealing my will, pulling me to my knees
Forcing me to play this terrifying game of shame, blame, and infliction of pain
Endorsing the lame and coercing the greatness within us
To suffer the same grim fate that's steering what remains of my wearying brain
Is it too late to turn my back on this lack of conviction?
Is the addiction too strong?
Have bad habits gone too long to see a new dawn in my future and change what went wrong?
I gaze into the mirror longing to see but me looking back, the seer, the sage, growing wiser
Growing stronger of mind
But age is not kind any longer
The mirror reflects the body I'm spending and the youth slowly dwindling
Into to past, that vast emptiness of everything we could have done and should have done
But what's done is done and my illusion is now shaken
Taken off of my pedestal I'm no longer safe to waste away gracefully with my eyes welded shut
No longer held in place by fear of disgrace I can only stand and withstand the fruits of my haste
Embrace the old man with the lonely reflection and no sense of direction
Blinding pain of my own creation has forced me to see
And my eyes have fallen upon a bleeding heart with nowhere to start
A heart exposed for but one to enclose and heal of its dying throes
On hearing the wistful words whispered in fear rain down like cool tears on my sun-seared mind, to be caught in the blissful dance of delirium in here with my blistering thoughts, you saw all that you wished in me take form in the shape of history reborn, the thaw and escape of what ought to have stayed buried and leashed deep inside me.
You thought to hide me away from the dawn of false elation drawn in by growing impatience, though it's all I can know in the dark and vacant void of stark imagination.
This inert persuasion to avoid and condemn the creation using the sensationalist din of obtuse imitation becomes the slow and somber hymn that lulls me to roost in a deep silent slumber through years without number.
The iniquitous spawn of my warps in perception gaining impetus in cadence with the insurrection of an ego suppressed, spilling through the narrow girth of the birth canals stretched as born by sparrows in the flesh that's been torn and worn bare by a forlorn will to harrow the norms I'll soon mourn with the setting sun as darkness spills on one more day among the collective of haughty objectives still undone.
You thought to take flight and hide me away from the light of the next day's sun. But you were too tired to run and face certain collision, and having too much fun absorbing the visions we spun, drug addled lungs breathing life into tomorrow's strife and deciphering meaning in the sorrow to come… so that despite the raw truth of old wisdom and bold foresight, the new day's light falls on a morbid exposition of every incision self-inflicted, producing a show of such comedic delusions that my wicked contusions are just a part of the joke.
Yet an unruly sinking fear descends across the newly thinking masses too broken inside to find a meaning in my loss. They watch unblinking as the curtains drop to reveal a stage with a furnace containing the life I dissected and buried when I found it carried infection.
My parasites feast before the vacant eyes of a lulled crowd. The chorus is loud to demand their toll and plead their bloodthirsty mantras, too pleased with the show to know the sullen parasites are vagrant once their meal is complete.
These words I hear, I once saw drawn in the sand at the dawn of manhood, singing a warning song of rough seas ahead, and the breeze that will spread the once-dead disease to friends, believers in me and fruits born of my seeds, exposing the myths of wistful words whispered in fear with no one to hear.
An ancient song about beer and God, the two most important things in a redneck's life....
Why waste time
Trying to fight what's not right
Do not bite the hand that feeds you
Leads you along
Tells you what's wrong
Then sings you a song about Jesus
He sees us, believes us when we ask for forgiveness
Then gives us what we need
But remember nothings free
Even his blood that we drink to think on the same level
Don't smell the shit that you shovel
Escape from all those fears
Just drink another beer
Say cheers to the Lord
Don't be bored with the chore of thinking
Just keep on drinking, life is stinking, just keep on sinking
Linking together your life with the afterlife
Lose your way
Go home and beat your wife
Put a knife to your wrists
Spill some beer, lie in piss
And pray to God for happiness
I don't know exactly what dates yet, and will post them when I know exactly, but I'll be in Nashville the weekend of November 10th.
Mike Bielaczyc has created an ambitious work of art which will be on display on the 10th, and it is accompanied by sounds so beautifully ugly that I have to be there to hear them. Mike's project is going to be a sight to behold, and I insist that everyone I know, even if you live in Sweden (you know who you are) make it out to help bear witness to this monumental display. If you know anyone in the media, they'll want to see this, so tell them to bring their cameras. Do NOT let them miss this tremendous opportunity for a Pulitzer Prize.
After the show we'll be drinking obscene amounts of alcohol in the nude and will gather atop the tower at Tiger Hill to partake in a world record breaking orgy. Guiness will be there to record the entire event. Remember, no hole is off limits, so please use the portapotties and portashowers that will be staged nearby before climbing the tower.
The point is... it's going to be a weekend to remember, and if you don't make it, you're going to die wishing you hadn't lived such a dull and lonely life. Be there, that's all I'm saying.
Renowned fantasy artist Mike Bielaczyc (Aradani Studios, Dragonlance) recently invited me to participate in the creation of an art exhibit of ambitious magnitude. My part was to create a soundscape that would enhance the atmosphere of an already dark and eerie exploration into the experience of belief, awakening, fate, and free will. The opening was tremendous, and we would like to thank everyone who made it out. I saw close friends, old acquaintances, people I haven't seen in over a decade, and met quite a few new people... all coming together to witness Mike's creation. My initial announcment regarding this project may have read like an extreme exaggeration, but as it turns out, it wasn't an exaggeration in the least.
When you first walked out into the parking lot where it was setup, you were instantly greeted by real travelling vendors and entertainers. They came from all over the country to be a part of the show, all dressed in their traditional garb, selling costumes, art, pirate gear, and other rare and artistic valuables.
At the end of the row of vendors and entertainers stood a giant tent shining solid white against the dingy foreground, rising high above the rest with its steepled top and symbol-shaped spire. Once making your way through the thick crowd of fairies, fire juggling, pirates, and tuxedo-garbed satyrs, you then found yourself at the entrance to the tent. Before walking in, you could already hear the torturous sounds that would set the tone for the eerie experience that awaited inside.
Inside the tent was the core of this project... the product of months of difficult, dilligent, costly, and sometimes even bloody labor. From the ceiling hung a ceramic phallic spiraled beehive dripping honey from its tip into a white ceramic baptismal bowl. To the right was a screen embedded into the tent wall, playing a nightmarish video of bees, jellyfish, and a clay man slowly drowning in the baptismal honey. To the left was a screen playing a video that also included bees, jellyfish, and baptism, only in this one Mike's own face wore the honey, which slowly ascended upward off of his face allowing him to finally open his eyes and experience a new awareness.
The revolving crowd of onlookers on the inside was consistently pressed thick, with word of mouth spreading and everyone packing in to watch the full animations. In the time I spent inside, I heard only authentic praise and appreciation for the work that was obviously put into its creation, and for the atmosphere and originality of the final result.
Much of the project will be on display at Watkins for the next month, and soon Mike will be putting the animations together with the music so that it can be viewed online. The music will be posted separately on InhumanGenome.com.
Sights are seen amidst screams of torture and loss
A species on its final leg, lasting but for one final breath, fouled by feces
Yelling to God, demanding mercy, begging for understanding
Lying prostate before the storm
Slaughtered like lambs by the truths once shut out by fearful eyes
They throw themselves willingly before the God who has forsaken them
A knife, spilled blood, a corpse face down in mud
Food for the new dominant creatures, and you...
You stand there with blank expression
Crippled by fear, blinded by tears
Wishing back those years of nods and false smiles
The beers and the laughter, belief in hereafter
It has all come to this, a dagger in our back
And your hand on the hilt
It has all gone away, the cheap pleasures, the comforting distractions
It has all gone your way, and regret is your only companion in death
The smoke settles, unveiling a mountain built upon the ash and rubble of a crumbled dream.
One more frontier to explore, though I've been here once before.
The pain is forgotten when I stare too long
Eyes burn, stomach churns, and still I fall
Inward, into that vast expanse of mind
No sign of land below, just this expansive glow
And still I know, this is home
All alone, my sins atoned, I fall
And still I know, this is home
Stared too long, and hoped too strongly
For the daydream I’m lost in
To one day soften these wicked scars
I lick my wounds, and savor the blood
My landing is soon
And still that voice beckons
Calls me forth to that distant place inside me
To put this madness behind me
Never alone, but often lost
I need only follow that voice
To find my way home
And here I am, gutted and ready to consume
My pain an open door
An open sore, for anyone to see and touch
I sacrifice my life, but it’s not much
I wish only that I had more to give
More time to live
I cry once more for the days that are lost
And try once more to get my message across
Eyes and ears open, I can see through the haze
My gaze passes all around, perpetually amazed
At this vast expanse of mind
These layers of wisdom and thoughts entertwined
Lost in myself, but never alone
I know just where I am, and I know this is home
The clouds have cleared and I’ve found myself steering down a desolate road into a distant sunrise on the horizon, a dimmed and distant memory of sight and sound now found and made flesh beseeching my minds eye, yet just out of reach; still I try.
Trails of dust lie before me on the beaten path leading to my rebirth, left behind by the many who have passed these crossroads before me. Familiar terrain so frighteningly new, a frontier to explore that never grows old.
With the rising of the sun, each memory is replaced by another, and yet more as the dam collapses, flooding my mind to the point of drowning in a sea of forgotten joys.
The memory returns of a mirror that burns within a brilliant ring of flames, capturing in its reflection the world as a better place. Gaining entry to its world took a key that was given and misplaced . . . a key that is sure to find me once again.
Check out the new tracks here.
I Am The Phantom is an extremely experimental hip hop (of sorts) collaboration between myself, Squaw Music, and Ryan Dennler.
New tracks include Daily Progress and Gypsy Vagabond, two mellow songs guaranteed to turn your mind to gelatinous ooze.
This is one of many projects by the Inhuman Genome Project.
The Inhuman Genome Project's official web site has been updated with new songs on the Listen page.
It is now broken down by project, and has a nice variety of songs, both old and new. Included is a "Play All" player with shuffle and repeat settings, in case you'd like to spend your entire day being reprogrammed.
If you're interested in owning any tracks by The Inhuman Genome Project or I Am The Phantom, mp3's are now available for purchase at the official website.
This page contains an archive of all entries posted to Danny 101 in the Mindless Creations category. They are listed from oldest to newest.
Historic Illusions is the previous category.
My Religious Nuts is the next category.
Many more can be found on the main index page or by looking through the archives.