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The Words of Mr Mojo Risin

by Bill Boethius & Dali's Car

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1.
Eyes 12:12
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He sought exposure, and lived the horror of trying to assemble a myth before a billion dull dry ruthless eyes. Leaving his plane, he strode to the wire fence, against the advice of his agents, to touch hands. Standing close to appeal his invitation for admire him worship or weapons. The constant unspoken interior knowledge, that his body was target every public second. Charged murderous awareness of beasts. New nerves of sensation flowered on his neck spine garden. When he looked at you, they said, he stripped back your skull. Naturally. For well wishing admirer smiles easily hide death behind cat teeth. Not paranoia or beyond grave carelessness, but a fine sensuous knowledge of violence in an eternal present. Cyclops. People who resemble primitive lizards have a jewel within their skull. Called the pineal gland, it is located inside the brain at the juncture of the two hemispheres of cerebellum. In some this third vestigial eye is still sensitive to light. The eye resists detached analysis. Realize that the eyes actually are two soft globes floating in bone. The impressions are seeing me. Ask anyone what sense he would preserve above all others. Most would say sight, forfeiting a million eyes in the body for two in the skull. Blind, we could live and possibly discover wisdom. Without touch, we could turn into hunks of wood. The eye is a hungry mouth That feeds on the world. Architect of image worlds in competition with the real. There are twin planets in the skull. The eye is god. And the world, for it has its equator. Pluck out the animal's eye in the dark and set it down before an object, clear and bright, a window against the sky. The outline of this image is engraved on the retina, visible to the naked eye. This excised eye is primitive camera, the retina's visual purple acts as emulsion Kühne, following his success with rabbits, was presented the head of a young guillotine victim. The eye was extracted and slit along the equator. The operation was performed in a special red and yellow room. Retina of the left eye offers a sharp but ambiguous image, impossible to define. He spent the next years in search for its meaning, the exact nature of the object, if it was an object. Windows are eyes of the house. Peer out of your prison body, others peep in. Never a one-way traffic. "Seeing" always implies the possibility of damaged privacy, for as eyes reveal the huge external world, our own infinite internal spaces are opened for others. What is the fate the eyes during sleep? They move constantly, like spectators in a theatre. The pupils dilate during abnormal states. Drugs, madness, drunkenness, paralysis, exhaustion, hypnosis, vertigo, high sexual excitement. The eye finding its ocean after the idea of oceans has ended. Enkidu was a wild man, an animal among animals. One day a woman exposed her nakedness to him at a watering hole, and he responded. That day he left with her to follow the arts of civilization. Mates are chosen first by visual appeal. Not odour, rhythm, skin. It is an error to believe that the eye can caress a woman. Is a woman constructed out of light or of skin? Her image is never real in the eye, it is engraved on the ends of the fingers. In the Ars Magna, Great Work, the Alchemist creates the world in his retort. The eyes are the genitals of perception, and they too have established a tyranny. They have usurped the authority of the other senses. The body becomes a thin awkward stalk to support the eye on its rounds. Why should the eyes be called "windows of soul" and key to deepest human communion, and touch denied as mild collisions of flesh. The body is not the house, it is the inside of the house. The blind copulate, eyes in their skin. The eye is "light at rest". (Do we create light in the eye? Is light our own, or from the world?) In Egyptian mythology the eye is symbol of Osiris, Isis, Horus; and the sun god Ra. Ptah gave birth to men from his mouth, the gods from his eyes. City-temple of Brak (3000 B.C.). Discovered thousands of small flat human faces of black and white alabaster, without nose, mouth, ears, but with engraved and carefully painted eyes. Called the Eye Temple: to house these offerings to a divinity. Oedipus. "Reality" of her naked breasts. Her body. "You have looked upon those you ought never to have looked upon". Eyes gouged with a broach from the dress of dead Jocasta. Punish the eyes. Shrivelled breasts of an old woman. He is led from village to village by a young boy. And everywhere they wait on his words. Tiresias, said to have spent seven years as a woman, came upon Athene in the forest, bathing. She darkened the intruding eyes. Saul of Tarsus on the Road to Damascus. Blindness elevated him to St. Paul. Why is blindness holy? Alchemy offers man an original heroism. The Mani taught that man was created as a helper by the messenger of Supreme God of Light to assist by his life and efforts in gathering the scattered, thereby weakened, atoms of light and lead them upward. For light has shone into the darkness and wasted itself and is in grave danger of being swallowed wholly. Man can assist in the salvation of light. The process of transforming base metals into gold is called "projection". In dim light, form is sacrificed for light. In bright light, light is sacrificed for form. Code of light. The eye is sick. Pluck it out. The doctor removes the eye to save the body. To do this, he must sever the optic nerve connecting eye with brain. Before anaesthesia, it was often reported that the pass of the scalpel created light instead of pain. Gradually, objects are constructed outside the body. The eye arises from light, for light. Indifferent organs and surfaces evolve into their unique form. The fish is shaped by water, the bird by air, the worm by earth. The eye is a creature of fire.
2.
Ode to L.A. while thinking of Brian Jones, Deceased 04:00
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I’m a resident of a city They’ve just picked me to play The Prince of Denmark Poor Ophelia All those ghosts he never saw Floating to doom On an iron candle Come back, brave warrior Do the dive On another channel Hot buttered pool Where’s Marrakech Under the falls the wild storm where savages fell out in late afternoon monsters of rhythm You’ve left your Nothing to complete w/ Silence I hope you went out Smiling Like a child Into the cool remnant of a dream The angel man w/ Serpents competing for his palms & fingers Finally claimed This benevolent Soul Ophelia Leaves, sodden in silk Chlorine dream mad stifled Witness The diving board, the plunge The pool You were a fighter a damask musty muse You were the bleached Sun for TV afternoon horned-toads maverick of a yellow spot Look now to where it’s got You in meat heaven w/ the cannibals & Jews The gardener Found The body, rampant, Floating Lucky Stiff What is this green pale stuff You’re made of Poke holes in the goddess Skin Will he Stink Carried heavenward Thru the halls of music No chance. Requiem for a heavy That smile That porky satyr’s leer has leaped upward into the loam
3.
Dry Water 14:09
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The velvet fur of religion The polish of knife handle & coin The universe of organic gears or microscope mechanical embryo metal doll The night is a steel machine grinding its slow stained wheels The brain is filled w/clocks, & drills & water down drains Knife-handle, thick blood like the coin & cloth they rub & the skin they love to touch the graveyard, the tombstone, the gloomstone & runestone The sand & the moon, mating deep in the Western night waiting for the escape of one of our gang The hangman’s noose is a silver sluice bait come-on man your meat is hanging on the wing of the raven man’s bird, poet’s soul ~~~ Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhh the thin rustle of weeds the voice comes from faraway inside, awaiting its birth in a cool room, on tendril bone The insane free chummy cackle of infants in a ballroom, of a family of friends around a table, laden w/feast-food soft guilty female laughter the bar-room, the men’s room people assemble to establish armies & find their foe & fight ~~~ Clustered in watchful terror by vine-growth, the hollow bush dry cancerous wells We awoke before dawn, slipped into the canyon Noon schoolyard screamed w/play, the lunch hour ending ropes & balls slapped hard at cement sand, the female land was bright, all swelling to degree most comfortless & guarding A record noise shot out & stunned the earth. The music had been bolted w/new sound. Run, run the end of repose an anthem has churned the bad guys are winning. ~~~ Silver shaken in the gloom I left her Trees waste & sway forever Marble porch & sylvan frieze Down on her knees She begs the spider-king to wed her Slides into bed He turns her over There is a leather pouch that’s full of silver It spills like water She left And took the coins I gave her. ~~~ As to the drowning man hoarse whisper invokes, on the edge, an arroyo Sangre de Christo Violence in a time of plenty There is one deaf witness on the bank, the shore leaning in finery against a ruined wall as Jesus did. Red livid lips, pale flesh withdrawn from ragged dress, pit of the past & secrets unveiled in the scarred chalk wall When, often, one is not deluged by rain, 3 drops suffice The war is over there I am neither doctor nor saint Christ or soldier Now, friends, don’t look at me sadly ranting like some incomprehensible child I know by my breath of what I speak, & what I’ve seen needs telling. ~~~ Please, freeze! Danger near. A message has started its path to the heart of the brain A thin signal is on its way An arrow of hope, predicting rain A death-rod bearing pain ~~~ I will not come again I will not come again into the swirl The bitter wine-soaked stallion eats the seed, all labor is a lie; no vice is kindled in these loins to melt or vie w/any strong particulating smile. Leave sundry stones alive. Now that you have gone all alone the desert to explore & left me here alone the calmness of the town where a girl in black gets in a car & searches numbly for her keys; Now that you have gone or strayed away- I sit, & listen to the hiss of traffic & invoke into this burned & gutted room some ghost, some vague resemblance of a time Off-on, on and off, like one long sick electric dream. This state is confused state. Out there everyone is greedy for love. They will drain her life like warm connectors, plug into her soul From every side & melt her form for me. But I deserve this, Greatest cannibal of all. Some tired future. Let me sleep. Get on w/the disease. ~~~ In this dim cave we can go no further. Here money is key to smooth age. Horses, givers of guilt. Great bags of gold. I want obedience! We examine this ancient & insane theatre, obscene like luxuriant churches altars. I confess to scarves cool floors stroked curtain The actors are twice-blessed before us. This is too serious & severe. Great mystery! Timeless passion patterned in stillness. ~~~ Sex for you was thread which binds us even now on this pale planet. To the poet & cover-girl, photo in color, to armies that join, out on a desert, & to Samson & all his generals bound quiet now w/exotic arch-angels of dusk, in Sumarian & N. African slumbers. The bazaar is crowded as dancers thrive. Snake-wreaths & pleasures. I take you to a low cave called “Calipah”. ~~~ Stand there listening you will hear them tiny shapes just beyond the moon Star-flys, jarts, dismal fronds stirring ape-jaws striving to make the morning mail call Cry owl. Hark to the wood-vine. Suckle-snake crawls, gnawing restive I know you. The one who left to go warning. Wishless now & sullen. Transfer deferred. Steal me a peach from the orange tree grove-keeper She fell. What are you doing w/your hand on her breast? She fell, mam. Give her to me. Yes, mam. Go tell the master what you’ve done. They killed him. Later. Going up the stairs handcuffed to his cell. A shot-gun blast Behind the back. ~~~ (I) Untrampled footsteps Borderline dreams Occasion for sinners alive if it seems given to wander alone at the shore wanton to whisper I am no more Am as my heart beats live as I can wanton to whisper faraway sands (II) Now come into my pretty isle My weary westward wanderer Faraway is as it seems & so alone shall shelter Come along unto my sails as weary islands go prosper merry as I went I shall no more the sailor Shall I ho the sailor (III) Where were you when I needed you? Where indeed but in some sheltered Sturdy heaven; wasted, broken sadly broke & one thin thing to get us thru (IV) Urchin crawl broke spenders bleeders all brew North stained lot he was lost out on an aircraft high above long awkward brewer’s shelters breed this ugly crew our poisoned jet god get us love & get us speed To get us home again love Crippled by people cut by nothing Public housing the incredible damage can be cured (V) She’s my girl friend: I wouldn’t tell her Name but I think you already know her Name is Square fire insect marble saffron intro demi-rag in flames it’s the same game whether you call it by her real name (VI) She lives in the city under the sea Prisoner of pirates prisoner of dreams I want to be w/her want her to see The things I’ve created sea-shells that bleed Sensitive seeds of impossible warships Dragon-fly hovers & wavers & teases The weeds & his wings are in terrible fury It's time to relieve his distress with drowning
4.
The Anatomy of Rock 03:33
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The 1st electric wildness came over the people on sweet Friday. Sweat was in the air. The channel beamed, token of power. Incense brewed darkly. Who could tell then that here it would end? One school bus crashed w/a train. This was the Crossroads. Mercury strained. I couldn’t get out of my seat. The road was littered w/dead jitterbugs. Help, we’ll be late for class. The secret flurry of rumor marched over the yard & pinned us unwittingly Mt. fever. A girl stripped naked on the base of the flagpole. In the restrooms all was cool & silent w/the salt-green of latrines. Blankets were needed. Ropes fluttered. Smiles flattered & haunted. Lockers were pried open & secrets discovered. Ah sweet music. Wild sounds in the night Angel siren voices. The baying of great hounds. Cars screaming thru gears & shrieks on the wild road Where the tires skid & slide into dangerous curves. Favorite corners. Cheerleaders raped in summer buildings. Holding hands & bopping toward Sunday. Those lean sweet desperate hours. Time searched the hallways for a mind. Hands kept time. The climate altered like a visible dance. Night-time women. Wondrous sacraments of doubt Sprang sullen in bursts of fear & guilt in the womb’s pit hole below The belt of the beast

about

Jim Morrison only published a small amount of his poetry in print in his lifetime, mostly under his full name of James Douglas Morrison.
On this album I set pieces he had published in magazines between 1968 and 1970, as well a set of poems he gave in readings, and also a pamphlet he had privately printed and given out at concerts.
With this album [and others] I have set his words to sounds and music as I think his words need to be heard spoken with a chaser!
All the sounds are made by me using a variety of guitars, basses, synths and drums - plus sound effects.

credits

released March 22, 2023

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Bill Boethius & Dali's Car London, UK

"The Dali of guitar noise".
Free improv,
Cinematic Sounds:
Strange Blues:
Cosmic Jazz,
Poetry settings,

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