I’m a John the Baptist
Oscar Wilde’s sad prince 
I’mma flog the bad men
I’m a groggy has-been
I’mma flaunt my absence
My long-gone fragments
I’m bogged down by  
This wanton stagnance 
 
Sayonara, sigh of relief
Sayonara, sigh of relief
Marvel at the larvae
Bailing on the chief that 
In vain I vanquish with 
My pain, my anguish
Darth Vader-like vapors
Emanating from the pancreas
Tranquilize vacant eyes
That plagiarize major lies
A wagered demise gone awry
Supper stretching on into the night
Upper-echelons bend to your might

I’m a John the Baptist
Oscar Wilde’s sad prince 
I’mma flog the bad men
I’m a groggy has-been
I’mma flaunt my absence
My long-gone fragments
I’m bogged down by  
This wanton stagnance 
Bound for Damascus
A hound for a  last kiss  
I’mma gawk at clashes 
The savvy and the savage
Montage of sadness
Agnus Dei masses
Miasma of drab bliss
My asthma established

Slap hands with mad guys whose chances are absent
Lap dances capsize romances, Samson
The bog is where my hamlet is 
Doggedly calamitous 
What Hamlet thought of Claudius
Is what I think of gaudy riffs
Bodiless, soulless, the haughtiest, he sold his
Stolen Rolls-Royce, stoic: James Joyce
Stolen Rolls-Royce, stoic: James Joyce

I'm bound for Damascus
A hound for a  last kiss  
I’mma gawk at clashes 
The savvy and the savage
Montage of sadness
Agnus Dei masses
Miasma of drab bliss
My asthma established

You revel in being reckless
Devils infest your checklist 
Self-esteem corresponds 
With the necklace you got on
Uncle Sam owns the mansion
You just mow the lawn
But I think I’d rather be a recluse
Known to always wreck booths
Untouched, like Shrek’  s tooth
I shred till dawn
Brains always over brawn
Et c’est a cause de cela  
Que j’m’appele le capitaine de Babylon
I’d rather be a vagabond
Eating with a ragged throng
Headed towards Saginaw
Much rather be that than be
A sad tag-a-long
Who pleads for prestige

I’m a John the Baptist
Oscar Wilde’s sad prince
I’mma flog the bad men
I’m a groggy has-been
I’mma flaunt my absence
My long-gone fragments
I’m bogged down by
This wanton stagnance
Bound for Damascus
A hound for a  last kiss  
I’mma gawk at clashes 
The savvy and the savage
Montage of sadness
Agnus Dei masses
Miasma of drab bliss
My asthma established

Oscar Wilde's Sad Prince (Track by Bro Safari & UFO!)

I’ve sorted out this sordid cloud of surreptitiousness
And I’m certain there’s a surplus of surly surgeons
Concerned with this assortment of sort-of sub-par salaries
Their snubbed heart’s value bleeds
Rubbed raw, how they grieve!
They interrogate surrogate mothers with absurd inquiries
Like: “Were you surprised by the baby inside?
If the cancer’s benign do you think you’ll survive?
We surmise that we are sure that our suspicion of a cure
Currently burgeons. So splurge then! Come on, men!
This shouldn’t be scary; I’m a mere missionary,
Bent on - I mean - sent by
This cringeworthy guy who resides nearby, who desires your conversion
From a gerbil to a serpent, Serb to an insurgent, emergent to a merchant
Birch to mahogany, in a lurch? Now it’s all for free!
So when your baby’s born he will crawl to me.”

- Parker Hall

Crawl To Me

Setting: [Man sits, slouched over a dimly lit table, his slimy and shriveled hands fumbling with and lathering copious amounts of Mod Podge onto a formless paper-mache object.]

Amid grimaces I hem images
Despite callouses analogous to malice hidden under scissor handles
A vandal dallying in what they’d call in Italian “un palazzo di frammenti fatto con le forbici”
It’s a horrid scene, really, gross and piece-mealy
No healing, only concealing, these stills are still my ceiling, my flesh, and it’s peeling
Missing the forest for the trees, like when you hear Ents without enough clearance
Agitated adherence to a coagulated appearance of
Acrid matted tatters
As though this is all that matters
But I’m tired of gluing; it’s like all I’m really doing
Stuck imbuing a husk with virtue
It hurts you, a dirge hewn after curfew in a birch pew
It burns blue and it spurns beauty 
It undoes what was, the urn-filler’s duty
I yearn to have eternal eyes
But I’ve internalized the thought that love these days
Goes around disguised as a prize subsidized by guys with glazed over eyes
Normalizing enticing slices of heaven
Needs become vices, bread unleavened
A hoping fiend, I joke and preen
And careen between the screen and my
Own little Sistine Chapel
Brought to me by Javascript
A poison apple, down to the crypt
And there I am, hunched over a table
Unable to stable my Cain and Abel mind
By doing anything other than prancing through
A fanciful papal fable with a hint of the divine
In which I’m owed the role of the protagonist
With my rote stagnant bliss
The broken mannequin fist under stowed Vatican bins
Hokey Anakin whiffs
Attic detritus 
Addict arthritis
January Sixth as irony dies glumly
I’m a bumbling Michael Pence
I manhandle twits, grab the panhandle, I make ‘em wince
Grandstanding fits
Planning advanced branding skits
Me
In a garage
The art of decoupage
Layer upon layer till the soul’s but a vestige, a restive mirage
Tongue out, brow furrowed
I’ve dodged, I’ve burrowed
A Mod Podge collage of self-described grandeur
Hell-derived pandering
Hardened in resin
One man’s attempt at
His own little heaven

Heaven In Resin

Written in honor of Jennifer Devenport Pierce, a remarkably beautiful woman, both inside and out.

1 Peter 1:6–7

So be truly glad.  
There is wonderful joy ahead, even though you must endure many trials for a little while. 

These trials will show that your faith is genuine. 
It is being tested as fire tests and purifies gold—
though your faith is far more precious than mere gold. 
So when your faith remains strong through many trials, it will bring you much praise and glory and honor on the day when Jesus Christ is revealed to the whole world.

Jennifer's Song (Piano by Mark Johnston & Harmony by Pierce Hall)

Without Leaving (Piano by Olivier Degrasse)

My Girl

I throw the chest off the deck... SPLASH!
This island's where I'll hide my stash
Unconcerned as to whether or not the loot is forgot
...tenaciously swiped just as the Duke bought them

But bashful she is, brash she is not
A sash she deserves, her words means a lot
When she whispers, "My love, I have no treasure but you"
Man you wouldn't believe how I come unglued

Body battered but intact and my sternum might be cracked
But what it protects is at rest
'Cause she's the fortune that I lacked

But you will be gone soon
Leaving like a monsoon
Tidal wave, cyclone
We part and I groan
Knees weak, my earth quakes
Day's bleak, my heart aches
My ark's late, my dark fate
Is this sparse plate, but wait
Pour moi cette nourriture est faite
(Things are pretty great)
Pour moi cette nourriture est faite

The second you're gone you're missed
So I reckon that's why you're kissed
When you beckon me close I twist
It's your neck, your curves, your hips
My ship has wrecked, swerved, flipped
By the barrier reef it clipped
Pierced, barely any grief as I slipped
Fierce, stare at Aegaeon as we crash into the piers

Though my ship run aground and my crew mutiny
I won't lose heart just as long as you're glued to me
Just as long as you're glued to me

But you will be gone soon
Leaving like a monsoon
Tidal wave, cyclone
We part and I groan
Knees weak, my earth quakes
Day's bleak, my heart aches
My ark's late, my dark fate
Is this sparse plate, but wait
Pour moi cette nourriture est faite
(Things are pretty great)
Pour moi cette nourriture est faite

There will come a day, when it's becoming clear
We have a common fear: that we've been commandeered
By piracy and lack of privacy, crying silently that
We're so tired of needing to be
Greek satyrs and stock traders
As we cater to spectators
A specter of expectation
Why am I so impatient?
You can't measure divine
This treasure isn't mine
I'm out of line

Parker Hall

Popular tracks