“Salve Regina”
 
Salve Regina
Do the seraphim sin? Do they laugh at me when
I wail in my discouragement from their
Vantage in the fourth inter-dimension?
See me at once superposed, perpetually exposed in
A closed-circuit yang…
 
In sleep, bliss that loves to forget
Electrically drips on our reptilian brains
Until in our own fried rapture, teeth to toes,
Swings low, the sweet chariot of Progress,
I’m hooked to carry her home
Hooked to carry me home
Come and carry me home
Come and harry me home…
Come and carry me…
 
Salve Regina
All my worshiping’s been feminine skin,
Holes to hide a feeling in..
And I’m worn down, in my account of you, the eye beholds itself…
Under the dust of that lust, no clue what I was for
Like a lot of things…
 
In sleep, bliss that loves to forget
Electrically drips on our reptilian brains
Until in our own fried rapture, teeth to toes,
Swings low, the sweet chariot of Progress,
I’m hooked to carry her home
Hooked to carry me home
Come and carry me home
Come and harry me home
Come and carry me home
Come and carry me home
Come and carry me…


3 Songs off album out now
All songs written and performed by Patrick Phelan
Produced by Adam Lepkowski

Percussion on "Waziristan": Shamus Hackett
Electric Guitar on "Waziristan": Sean Moore

Album art by Matthew D. Phelan

Salve Regina

 
“Waziristan”
 
Shroud the world in legalese:
The wails and gnashing teeth­–
Are Chronic Bruxism and Advanced Treble Sighing,
They offend the air, and propagate,
And thus, represent a threat
Of such imminence as to warrant
Reapers in rows to cull the harvest of chaos I’ve sown…
Bleached field of bones, skeleton cities, bombed out walls lined with crow.
 
 
Time it was, the fast had broke, and Baba’s house was lit
With tea and love; and then like lightning-
Missiles struck, but mercifully, unconsciousness set in.
Sweet little dream ‘til Hellfire finds you
I awoke, legless in Malala’s tears, my pores puking
Tinnitus so clear…
Long ago, it must have been nice to feel fear, voltaic blood made the pulse
pound so dear.
But now, I hurt just like a grown man.
And I hate just like a grown man, too…
 
 
It’s really challenging­–the hows, and wheres,
and whens, and well, why nots?
Of who we kill, and the life death affords us.
It’s a real mean strain,
The conscience will
underestimate the threat.
I hope AI will soon decide for us.
But please still plead with your Gods, and regale us with Hegalian barks.
Sleep, to dream of undiscovered country that we can free up.


3 Songs off album out now
All songs written and performed by Patrick Phelan
Produced by Adam Lepkowski

Percussion on "Waziristan": Shamus Hackett
Electric Guitar on "Waziristan": Sean Moore

Album art by Matthew D. Phelan

Waziristan

“Love be”
 
Love be in my eyes and in my seeing
Love be in my blood and in my being
Love be in my tears and in my weeping
Love be in my sowing and in my reaping
 
And you would wait up all them hours,
Chasing hits in stems and flowers.
Your hands, they’d shake. 
And for whose sake…?
Would the sunlight soak in sour?
And from the drapes you’d squint and cower…
“Oh, I feel fake. For Christ’s sake.”
 
Love be in my hands and in my making,
Love be in my sleep and in my waking,
Love be in my gut and in my knowing.
Love be in my comings and in my goings.
 
And even now the memory lingers.
Your tears would melt into her fingers.
And Mom would say, “Everything will be okay.”
But, with your ribs split, riven asunder.
The pain shorn you, held you under.
I’m wide awake. Skinned alive by time and space.
 
Love be in my back and in my bearing
Love be in my heart and all I’m sharing.
Love be in my lungs and in my sighing.
Love be in my bones and in my dying.

3 Songs off album out now
All songs written and performed by Patrick Phelan
Produced by Adam Lepkowski

Percussion on "Waziristan": Shamus Hackett
Electric Guitar on "Waziristan": Sean Moore

Album art by Matthew D. Phelan

Patrick Phelan

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