Old man singing after a 60 year gap. With thanks & apologies to the organist. Will be removed soon.

Lyrics:
Dream catchers, dream catchers,
be out there in force.
Most though, still remain trusting,
in accomplished liars, of course.
.
Don’t trust in a future
made of cardboard and string.
In rockets so deadly,
flight simulators too thin.
.
The single track, back roads,
are flooded again.
Blocking my way forward,
yet to where, and, to when?
.
That one cloud is hiding,
a secret so great.
Watching a panic,
it long planned, to make.
.
The losses this year
continue to grow,
A sadness so sad,
whilst struggling, to know.
.
Knowing your feelings,
those feelings you hide.
Missing your closeness,
however hard, I, have tried.
.
Trust in your own judgement,
turn off  your TV.
Lay down learnt false fears,
relearn what is truth and peace,
hope and tranquility,
love, happiness, and, glee. 
............................................................
Poem written & recited by Richard Underscore.
Music composed & played by Gregor Hilden.
Studio Production by Jon Buckett.

"Dream Catchers". Poem by Richard Underscore. Music by Gregor Hilden. Production, Jon Buckett.

Lyrics:
Special pizza delivery for the E.B.E.,
the moped rider said.
It came out all muffled though, due to
the crash helmet on his/her, large head.
.
As usual I’d not ordered it…. he had,
as he’d done many a time, before.
He knew to tick Cash On Delivery,
so I paid, again, then shut and locked the door.
.
Instantly his craft’s pale green light
bathed the house, inside and out.
No longer does his arrival startle I
enough to elicit a scream, or even now, a shout.
‘
So here he was once more
a classic grey, tinged with green.
Tiny body, large large head, featuring
jet black eyes, the very biggest, ever seen.
.
“Hello my friend”, I heard inside my head,
the tiny slit of his mouth, never moving.
His pizza dissolving into nothingness in his “hands”,
as I watched yet again, no longer, disapproving.
.
No longer does he scan my brain,
but now only  listens to my voice.
He understands it gave him an unfair advantage,
so he graciously respects my privacy, and, my choice.
.
We spend many a pleasant evening,
simply thought chatting all the while.
He expresses a sense of freedom here,
disconnected from his collective,
oh yes, he certainly does have style.
.
We take turns to teach each other our cultures,
he now chills when playing great chess.
He teaches me how to conquer planetary systems,
without ever once, leaving a bloody mess.
.
So I have a good friend at long long last,
who visits when he can.
He’s said that our free will’s so rare and precious,
that he’s issued a total invasion, ban.
.
Special pizza delivery for the E.B.E.,
the moped rider said.
So what shall we play tonight I wonder,
before he leaves, and I make my way up,
alone as always, to my empty, bed.
.......................................................................................
Poem written & recited by Richard Underscore.
Music composed & played by Gregor Hilden.
Studio Production by Jon Buckett.

"Pizza For The E.B.E." Poem by Richard Underscore. Music by Gregor Hilden. Production, Jon Buckett.

Lyrics:
I missed my cue whilst in a queue,
all so very long, ago.
Opportunities are rare indeed,
a fact I well now, know.
.
“But”, is such a long, long, word,
and, “If”, is even longer.
Accepting the here and now’s so hard,
but achieving it, makes one, stronger.
.
To avoid regret, yes, that’s the thing
I work at every single day.
Dissolve disappointment with contentment,
lest you fall into, dismay.
.
All too soon you view the end,
and question all you knew.
That's why the where’s the how’s and more,
as relentlessly, memory, grew.
.
Yet even now a look from her,
with smile upon her face,
can lift the load spontaneously,
and make the pulses, race.
.
I missed my cue whilst in a queue,
all so very long, ago.
Opportunities are rare indeed,
a fact I well now, know.
.......................................................................................
Poem written & recited by Richard Underscore.
Music composed & played by Gregor Hilden.
Studio Production by Jon Buckett.

"One Missed Cue". Poem by Richard Underscore. Music by Gregor Hilden. Production, Jon Buckett.

Lyrics:
So who’s the fool,
you or I?
A slap in the face, versus,
a poke in the eye.
.
The invite sent
for good or ill.
Since ’77 we’ve waited,
and with worried minds
we wait, and wait, still.
.
Come find us, come find us,
we shouted,
and here’s a neat map for you.
Details too of who we are,
our music and culture
to be viewed from afar
and were we consulted?
no, by not even a few……
and guess who was listening,
no, you haven’t a clue..
.
Some have tried to warn us,
go check the Wiltshire crop.
Our masters though
have been compromised,
but by whom, they know not,
know not.
But by whom, they, know not.
.
The reset it is a-coming,
and the date it has been fixed.
The plans are all in place, in place,
the finger on the button’s coldly keen.
The foolproof plan’s so simple, and
with no resistance expected to be seen,
to be seen.
With no resistance expected, to be seen.
.
Just one more day in the office,
another problem free, day in the office,
as ordered, by the whitish-greyish-green,
and single-minded, Borg Queen,
Borg Queen.
As ordered, by the Single-minded, Borg Queen.
.
The invite sent
for good or ill.
Since ’77 we’ve waited,
and with worried minds
we wait, and wait, still.
.
So who’s the fool,
you or I?
A slap in the face, versus,
a poke in the eye.
.......................................................................................
Poem written & recited by Richard Underscore.
Music composed & played by Gregor Hilden.
Studio Production by Jon Buckett.

Two Gold Voyager Records. Poem by Richard Underscore. Music, Gregor Hilden. Production, Jon Buckett.

Lyrics:
The pain has gone,
and all is peace at last, at last.
No cares to trouble, as they fade
silently into the past, the past.
.
The pain has gone.
.
The gentle warm breeze caressing
the fresh red daisies as they bloom.
And all will be perfection,
under the coming, shimmering, moon.
.
The pain has gone.
.
The whistle has been blown
to signal end of play.
The last treasured treasure,
finally, put, away.
.
The pain has gone.
.
There’s a tranquility awaiting,
the like of which is, unknown.
As nirvana is gently beckoning,
the ultimate safe, loving, home. 
.
The pain has gone.
The pain has gone.
The pain has gone.
........................................................................................
Poem written & recited by Richard Underscore.
Music composed & played by Jon Buckett.
Studio Production by Jon Buckett.

"The Pain Has Gone". A poem by Richard Underscore. Music & Production by Jon Buckett

Lyrics:
This once was a city
full of folk, life, work, and fun.
Before the storm of fire was lit,
before the madness, finally, was done.
.
Where are you my darling?
Can you hear the sea?
Do the waves lap your toes?
Do you still think, of me?
.
Are you near the forests?
Do you smell the pine?
Have you gone ahead my darling?
In company with, the divine?
.
This once was a city
a mere handful of years ago.
Before the madness descended, 
and all on a gambler’s, throw.
. 
The moonlit night sky,
devoid now, of falling bombs.
Desolation complete, within
death’s dread, and fearsome, fronds.
.
Where are you my darling?
Must I search in vain?
To search is my destiny,
through fear itself, and pain.
.
This once was a city
vibrant and full of noise.
The rubble now is uninhabited,
save for starving, girls, and boys.
.
This once was a city.
.............................................................................................
Poem written and Recited by Richard Underscore.
Music by kind permission of Ana Silvera.
Production by Jon Buckett.

"This Once was a City". Poem by Richard Underscore. Music by Ana Silvera. Production by Jon Buckett.

Lyrics:
What’s now happened?
Why has time gone slow?
The final shell arrived,
just over, an hour, ago,
.
My ears alert still
for the sound of the bell.
the shortest prelude to
another plunge, into hell.
.
What am I hearing
my fob watch or heart?
This silence is deadly,
as we’re still, far apart.
.
The lads are so quiet
no cheering no talk.
Young men with old faces,
far too exhausted to walk.
.
In each a blank stare
with no emotion at all,
having seen and done too much
then entering a personal dark void
before hitting an invisible, brick wall.
.
And no one will believe, believe,
these years wherein we’ve been lost.
No one will ever know,
save us, the terrible, human, cost.
. 
What’s now happened?                              
Why has time gone slow?
The final shell arrived,                               
just over, one whole hour, ago.                  
.
Birds, I hear birds singing,
so why have I come through?
I can’t and won’t relax, my love,
Until safe, back home, with you.
.............................................................................................
Poem written and Recited by Richard Underscore.
Music by kind permission of Ana Silvera.
Production by Jon Buckett.

NOON 11th November 1918. Poem by Richard Underscore. Music by Ana Silvera. Production by Jon Buckett

Lyrics:
Some are pleased to see me
While others try to run away.
Love and hate are all the same to me
Know you not, what is my name?

Live your lives as best you can
For there will be an end, for everyone
That is sure as night follows day
Your choice then or not, to pray... or not to pray.

Do you take, or do you give?
For it matters not to me, what you do, or even think.
You’re welcome to your thoughts, my friends.
Is your life so full of love, or hatred, spreading fast?
If you are suicidal, I will not be judging you, or your past.
I will not be judging you, or your past. 

Whether you are very poor, or extremely rich
I do not care one jot, one jot. Money means nothing to me.
Neither do I care if you’re much loved, or if you’re all alone.
I will treat you all the same, and don’t you dare to attempt a clone!!!
I cannot be bullied. I can’t be bribed, and it’s unwise to try to deceive me!!!

Some of you will search me out, and that I find so sad. 
Were your lives that empty?
Were your lives that empty, or just so unbearably bad?
I will find you. I’ll know where you’ll be
If you are ready, or if you are not.... I’ll be there.

The truth is that one day, all will end
One day, unexpected, an unexpected day.
They say tomorrow is another day,
Yet not all of you will be there.
Some will be old, whilst others, young
Never more to love, or play.

One fine day I will greet you
Or possibly in the rain
And you will not at first, believe me
You’re nearly all the same.

My name, why can’t you guess?
Why can’t you guess?
.................................................................
The album "Heroes and Foes" is the Copyright of Chabliz (2022).

Heroes and Foes

Conductor 71, from Heroes and Foes by Chabliz. Vocals, Petra de Winter. Lyrics by Richard Underscore

Richard Underscore's vocals and Darren Hunt's Guitar playing were recorded in Swindon, Wiltshire, by Darren Hunt.
Petra de Winter's vocals were recorded  by Marcel van Ling in Opnamestudio MoSound, South Holland, as was the final mix.
Photograph by Jeroen.

"He Got All the Whiskey". Vocals by Richard Underscore & Petra de Winter. Guitars by Darren Hunt.

Lyrics:
Between the river and the sea
grows a giant acacia tree.
Circle it seven times
chanting incantations
and non-rhyming rhymes.
.
Watch the tarmac road
melt fast,
in the ancient distant past.
The triple masted schooner
set its sails
without once using
old rusty nails.
.
Why is the bicycle
in the tree?
Why do you like
to dance with me?
.
They're not ripe
I hear you say,
and it's far too cold
to sunbathe today.
.
The wind blows your
hair awry
above the telescope
with which you spy
upon the Swiss tree
and its straight fruit.
In black and white
I saw it, when?
Strangely strange
way way back then.
.
The music soothes,
it often does
until and 'til
the spelling's write.
You should have checked
so should your friends.
Too late to warn,
to save the might.
.
Money on the table's thrown,
the town is searched from
end to end.
The sailor's cover's
finally blown
as he drives gently 'round,
that notorious bend.
.
Please end this boring
movie now.
With voices dubbed
and how and how.
For I don't care
no not one jot
for this pretentious
utter rot.
.
Is that an Alfa
at the docks?
Are those mid 60s
mini frocks?
Whilst everyone
is smoking fags
then lighting
fuel soaked 
oily rags.
.
There's half an hour
before the end.
I'll type up notes
to save and send.
Players play
and lovers love.
Sleepers sleep
in bunks above.
.
And now the heavy
drinking starts
with plot so bad
it really smarts.
The tram cars rattle
back and forth,
out of synch
of course of course.
.
I doubt I'll see
the end of this.
Not caring that
the end, I'll miss.
With stereotyping
getting worse
my air's gone blue
with words de curse.
.
With mysterious mysteries
everywhere.
Have you got time
to stand and stare?
Have you seen ghosts
from long ago?
Last year, last month?
Well, I don't know.
.
I see you smile
as we dance, jazz style,
when once I would have
run a mile.
I understand so much more
as now I open every door.
But I can't enter,
don't you see?
For I know, no one
quite as shy,
as me.
For I know, no one
quite as shy,
as me.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Poem written and recited by Richard Underscore.
Music composed and played by Jon Buckett.
Studio mix and production by Jon Buckett.

"Background Movie". Written & recited by Richard Underscore. Music by Jon Buckett.

Lyrics:
I know you know I'm here
but you don't see me.
I'm the deep dark loch
hidden in the fog.
.
And you? you are the fine rain
that promises so much
is light, and bright, and welcome
yet evaporates as if a ghost.
.
No one can avoid you
and would not if they could
whilst I see all, and know all
and grasp the grey mist, tight.
.
You dazzle in the daylight
sparkle in the sun
I come alive upon the night
after all of life is done.
.
You've lived so very much
you've always been so young,
while I'm very different, 
never joining any race,
that needed to be run.
.
You will have...   memories
should you care to remember
or record them, in a log.
I will remain unchanged,
that deep dark loch,
hidden in the fog.
.
You will always know
that I am here, and
you will avoid the grey mists
surrounding the deep dark depths.
.
Inside the darkness
resides the truth.
Truth, ancient and constant
and so oft, misunderstood.
.............................................................................................
Poem written & recited by Richard Underscore.
Music composed & played by Gregor Hilden.
Studio Production by Jon Buckett.

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