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Original LP's still available.
LOOK FOR: MV004 (LP) (1985)

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Chuck Britt • Poems-Vocals
Michael Vlatkovich • Compositions-Trombone
David Crigger • Drums-Percussion
Dominic Genova • Bass
Lou Gonzales • Trumpet
Dave Riddles • Woodwinds
Vinny Golia • Woodwinds
Warren Hartman • Keyboards
Bill Masonheimer • Tuba
Gary Denton • Guitar

Produced by: Chuck Britt, Michael Vlatkovich

Recorded by: David Crigger
All Words by: Chuck Britt
All Music by Michael Vlatkovich
Cover art by Cuck Britt
Photography by Aldo Panzieri
Mastered by David Ellsworth @ Location Recording Services
Originally released in 1985 as Thank You Records MV004

1 • #7*6 (3:00)
2 • #2*1 (1:19)
3 • #5*7 (3:44)
4 • #4*3 (4:33)
5 • #3*5 (7:38)
6 • #6*0 (6:47)
7 • Leper's Rhapsody (11:42)
8 • Anima/Benediction (2:37)



To those upon whom I project my Anima......
Your lights
Go through my screen
But not through
The skin of my soul

Multiple illusions overlay
The closer we look 
The more complex the fortress

We see through
The gate of my motivations
But not behind
The door of my soul


Dreams are reports
From prehistoric battles
We see no action
Hear only rumors

The spoils are me
You are outside
I am outside

We share only that


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To act

Become a verb
At the death dance
Of rebirth

She sits sovereign
Within the winter/spring ritual
Ordering us

To risk


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Lacking horror
You smile
Caressing mysteries
With a laugh

In your hands
Fact blossoms
Into myth
Laws become habits

Taking my flesh
You seek in it
Godlike acts
Beyond my doing

Sneering at hesitation, forethought, consideration
My plodding
Intellectual addiction

Demanding risk compromising balance


Death is a dance in 4/4 time
The beginning
Of life


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Our friendship is young
You open stuck windows

Your beauty threatens

But the air strengthens me
You are so kind

Rocking to the ancient
Wrinkled blues
Raspy slide jackknife

But yessss it's dangerous


Long deep black
But not black as it is long

Tangling pleasure
With unknowable shadow
Lurking patience

Long deep black years ago
There lived a monster boy
Who knew what hurt
Yessss and tears
For knowing
That the only answer
Is waiting and doing

Rocking to the ancient
Music of vibrating souls
Selves in contact tentative
As the days are both
Short and long

Changing even the deepest


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Before I        -            The voluntary hostage
                                    Gagged in woman's clothes
                                    Tormented myself with real-imagine
                                    Horrors of ambivalence (false androgyny)

Now I            -            As if mescalinely
                                    Propelled down
                                    View those inner
                                    Androgynous monarch-warriors           
                                    Transformed by weird
                                    New rituals
                                    (External comfort - Internal incorporation)
                                    Into wisevil wizards and witches

Now you       -            Unexpected elixir
                                    Catalyze me with the
                                    Perfume of sanity
                                    I propel myself further
                                    Moving with you
                                    (Assertion - Response)
                                    Finding new depth
                                    In tensionless


I am voluntarily free.


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I had a four blanket night
Not the weather
I was cold


Before bed
I tried filling it
Peanut butter, bread, jelly, etc.

Now I suffer from awareness


Immortally wounded
Half death half life
The arrow is balanced

Half known half unknowable


When death comes it will be suicide
We seek it 
Need it


Each orgasm is a death
We certainly seek them
All deaths are suicides

(Unison fart/belch)

Except deaths of artists
Bugle boys for the race
Martyrs to order and optimism
Sweaty, fear drummed death dancers


Do we not produce art involuntarily?
Profound becomes mundane
Mundane profound

Do we not create ourselves?
At once
Worshiped and worshiper
Are we all artists?
Is no one a suicide?

(Wet fart)

The arrow is:

            That last bloody twitch of energy before sleep
            The silent meaning of coincident events
            The stupid wisdom of sentimental dependence
            Infantile suck and cry 
            The irony of my own cruelty 
            The aesthetics of fucked human relations

The death dance continues......
One god damned now after another
Colgate shields
Keeping us at safe distances

Where once it was animal urgency
            (The odor of sweaty stocking feet in close workshop weekend retreats)

(multisyllable fart)

Working for sustenance
Is reviled as a burden

We haul our energy
down into the mine
And exchange it for just enough

Ego inflation
To keep ourselves fooled
That we have no purpose in life

Mundane mine
Source of sustenance

Life is trick
The Magician is us
Through slight of mind
We have fooled ourselves
"There is no mystery"
"The mine is evil"
"Mundane is mundane"

Relationships....  suck
Me into places
I want to ignore

While they impose
The pleasure 
Of the familiar

They offer
The horror
Of the unknown



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Leper's Rhapsody

I.................................. am lost  (I am a child)
I.................................. am afraid  (Therefore I am lying)
I.................................. am hiding  (Shrinking)

I am on a voyage (Smaller and smaller)
I have emigrated (I am hard to find)
I am an expatriate (I don't want to be caught)

Es......................caping the shadows (But I say yes)

To one black wave
Breaking over my hot brow
Yes to dependency
Upon the "one sure thing"
The one rock
The one Universal


Yes to death
Yes to an end
Yes to “I have learned all that I am able therefore I should be punished”
Yes to “Don't ask me to cope”
Yes to “Keep your distance”
Yes to “Pamper me”
Yes to “Let me off the hook”
Yes to “If they expect me to recover they are fools”
Yes to “Pay my rent”
Yes to “Buy my food”
Yes to “Invalid (ity)”
Yes to death

But down in the middle of my self
Where I can never be unbalanced
I know something that I am not aware of
Anywhere else in my body----including my brain
I know that there can never be anyone else but me
Who can DO ME
I know that I have experiences that no one else has felt with 
MY fingers and toes----Smelled with MY nose----Heard with MY ears----
Seen with My eyes----No one else can stand in MY skin but ME----
I know that down in the middle of my self where I can never be unbalanced
I watch the war between body and brain----
I see a body willing to sacrifice all against the horrible homicidal zombie existence The decadent brain proposes----
The body is fighting unto death to exist----


If a decadent brain attempts to kill that ME----
The body will protect Me against the BRAIN or YOU or ANYTHING----

Only the pure nuns will touch me----
I will die with a prayer on my lipless tongue:
"Oh Lord immerse me in the pureness of death 
So that I might be close to your perfect womb.  
Oh You, the creator of all germs---- the germ of all creation."

Infect me
Take my toes
Take my fingers
Take my ears
Take my nose
Take my eyes

For body and brain have no meaning without ME----AMEN. AMEN.

But----I know that----Down----In the middle----Of my self----
Where I can never be----Unbalanced----I MUST SURVIVE----

I know that my leper's madness can be the path to wholeness----
I know that I must be unsick but also unsold----
I must rip false structures from a brainwashed organ----
I must destroy the propaganda forced upon my youth----
I must destroy the deathly infested values I run from in sickness
By KNOWING them with the sharp blade and skinning them bloody
Quartering and burning them...
From the blackest carbon hunks will emerge jewels like new progeny
Purged of decadence----Prisms of clear color
Values----New values----To replace----The rotting old----
Infested flesh----Of my parents----Dead----Laws.

My home must then be rebuilt----FOUR WALLS
With a foundation as deep as the deepest well
Strong enough to hold many stories
Reaching to the sky
So that I can see clearly the country in which I stand.
Then I can say: 
"Here is where I stand----My stories are many----
They are as unlike others as they are alike----
They are as deep and as tall as can be----
I am whole
I am deep
I am tall
I am ME"

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Oh God
Nurture me
That I may not love what I was given
That I may not hate myself
That I may destroy with less inadvertence
That I may create with less inadvertence
That I may love what I was given
That I may mother the resurrection


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