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Monday, January 9, 2017

Blue Oyster Cult: Veteran of the Psychic Wars

I heard this song on the radio the other day and thought it was a hoot. Don't really remember it, was never a big B.O.C. fan. I do love the stentorian voice of the singer, reminiscent of so many bad seventies singers that took themselves way too seriously of the Journey, Kansas, Foreigner school. The lyrics are pretty funny. I was sort of amazed upon doing a little quick wiki research to see that it was cowritten by the great science fiction writer Michael Moorcock in 1981.

The line Veterans of the Psychic Wars came from the Hawkwind song Standing at the edge but first appeared in a Jim Morrison poem, Far Arden.  (I am not sure if visition is the word in the actual poem, since the word doesn't actually exist in this universe but I am worried about changing it to visitation w/o more information.)

You will note that the line Veterans of the psychic wars doesn't appear here, calm survivor of the psychic war does. But it does in this woman's transcription. Not quite sure what the deal is.


Far Arden

In that year
We had an intense visition
of energy


When radio dark night existed
& assumed control, & we rocked in its web
consumed by static, & stroked w/fear
we were drawn down long from
a deep sleep, & awaken’d
at dayfall by worried guardeners
& made to be led thru dew wet
jungle to the swift summit, o’er looking
The sea…

A vast radiant beach & a cool
jewelled moon. Couples naked
race down by its quiet side &
we laugh like soft mad children,
smug in the wooly cotton brains
of infancy.

The music & voices are all around us.

Choose, They croon
The ancient ones
The time has come again
Choose now, They croon
Beneath the moon
Beside an ancient lake

Enter again the sweet forest
Enter the hot dream, come w/us.
Everything is broken up
& dances

(Mt. Music

Moonshine night
Mt. Village
Insane in the woods
in the deep trees

Under the moon
Beneath the stars
They reel & dance
The young folk

Led to the Lake
by a King & Queen

O, I want to be there
I want us to be there
Beside the lake
Beneath the moon
Cool & swollen
dripping its hot


Frozen moment by a lake
A Knife has been stolen
The death of the snake

I know the impossible sea
when the dogs bark

I am a death bird
Naughty night bird

Bird of prey, Bird of prey
flying high, flying high
In the summer sky

Bird of prey, Bird of prey
flying high, flying high
Gently pass on by

Bird of prey, Bird of prey
flying high, flying high
Am I going to die

Bird of prey, Bird of prey
flying high, flying high
Take me on your flight

Indians scattered on dawn’s
Hiway bleeding.
Ghosts crowd the young child’s
fragile egg-shell mind

Underwaterfall, Underwaterfall
The girls return from summer balls
Let’s steal the eye that sees us all

Tell them you came & saw & looked
into my eyes, & saw the shadow
of the guard receding
Thoughts in time & out of season
The hitchhiker stood by the side of the road
& levelled his thumb in the
calm calculus of reason

(a car passes)

Why does my mind circle around you
Why do planets wonder what it
Would be like to be you

All your soft wild promises were words
Birds, endlessly in flight

Your dog is still lost in the frozen woods
or he would run to you
How can he run to you
Lunging w/blooded sickness on the snow
He’s still sniffing gates & searching
Strangers for your smell
which he remembers very well

Is there a moon in your window
Is madness laughing
Can you still run down beach
rocks bed below w/out him?

Winter Photography
our love’s in jeopardy
Winter Photography
our love’s in jeopardy
Sit up all night, talking smoking
Count the dead & wait for morning
(Will warm names & faces come again
Does the silver forest end?)

~Orange County Suite~

Well I used to know someone fair
She had orange ribbons in her hair
She was such a trip
She was hardly there
But I loved her
Just the same.

There was rain in our window,
The FM set was ragged
But she could talk, yeah,
We learned to speak

And one year
has gone by

Such a long long road to seek it
All we did was break and freak it
We had all
That lovers ever had
We just blew it
And I’m not sad

Well I’m mad

And I’m bad

And two years
have gone by

Now her world was bright orange
And the fire glowed
And her friend had a baby
And she lived with us
Yeah, we broke through the window
Yeah, we knocked on the door
Her phone would not answer,
Yeah, but she’s still home

Now her father has passed over
& her sister is a star
& her mother smokes diamonds
& she sleeps out in the car

Yeah, but she remembers Chicago
The musicians & guitars
& grass by the lake
& people who laugh’d
& made her poor heart ache

Now we live down in the valley
We work out on the farm
We climb up to the mountains
& everything’s fine

& I’m still here
& you’re still there
& we’re still around

Well I’ll tell you a story of whiskey
& mystics & men
And about the believers, & how the
whole thing began

First there were women & children obeying
the moon
Then daylight brought wisdom & fever
& sickness too soon

You can try to remind me
instead of the other
you can

You can help to insure
That we all insecure our command

If you don’t give a listen
I won’t try to tell your
new hand

This is it can’t you see
That we all have our end in
the band

And if all of the teachers & preachers
of wealth were

We could see quite a future
for me in the literal sands

And if all of the people
could claim to inspect
such regret

Well we’d have no forgiveness
forgetfulness faithful

So I tell you
I tell you
I tell you
We must send away

We must try to find a new
answer instead of
a way

All hail the American Night

And so I say to you
The silk handkerchief was
embroidered in China or Japan
behind the steel curtain And
no one can cross the borderline
w/out proper credentials.
This is to say that we are all
sensate & occasionally sad
& if every partner in crime
were to incorporate promises
in his program the dance
might end & all our fiends
would follow.

Who are our friends?

Are they sullen & slow? Do
they have great desire? Or
are they one of the multitude who
walk doubting their impossible
regret. Certainly things happen
& reoccur in continuous promise;
All of us have found a safe
niche where we can store up
riches & talk to our fellows
on the same premise of disaster.

But this will not do. No, this
will never do. There are
continents & shores which
beseech our understanding.
Seldom have we been so slow.
Seldom have we been so far.

My only wish is to see
Far Arden again.

The truth is on his chest
The cellular excitement has
Totally inspired our magic
Veteran. And now for an
old trip. I’m tired of thinking.
I want the old forms to
reassert their sexual cool.
My mind is just-you know.
And this morning before I sign
off I would like to tell you
about Texas Radio & the Big Beat.
It moves into the perimeter of
your sacred sincere & dedicated
Smile like a calm survivor
of the psychic war. He was
no general for he was not old.
He was no private for he
could not be sold.

He was only a man & his
dedication extended to the last
degree. Poor pretentious soldier,
come home. The dark Los Angeles
evening is steaming the Church
that we attended & I miss
my boy. Stupid in green-
What the color green? When
I watch the T.V. & I see
helicopters swirling their
brutal & bountiful sensation
over the fields & the comic walls
I can only smile & fix a meal
& think about the child who
will one day own you.

In conclusion, darling, let
me repeat: your home is still
here, inviolate & certain
and I open the wide smile of
my remembrance. This to you
on the anniversary of our first
night. I know you love me
to talk this way. I hope
no one sees this message
written in the calm lonely
far out languid summer afternoon
W/my total love

Jim Morrison

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