Me Doing Karaoke at the Frankenstein Wrap Party

A friend took this of me doing Karaoke of Leonard Cohen's Tower of Song at the wrap party for the movie I just finished. I had to go on right after the star and the director did a duet so no pressure, haha. Not the best sound quality as you know my adoring fans were so loud (kidding), but this is one of my favourite songs, just the first 30 secs.

Bring Out Your Dead, fiction by Daniel Smallegange

And so, ‘bring out your dead’ they cried, and came seeking and came finding those dead and those alive also, despite the seemingly specific nature of the advertising. Flushing the streets and those places of rest, salvation and ill-repute of those they deemed enemies of the entity, defilers and defiers of the grace of God, or just plain ruffian scum. 

Cries of ‘bring out your dead’ and the heavy tread of government issued boots caused howls of fear to ripple and sweep through the boroughs and dens of inequity. This followed also by a general crawling and a running and slithering away as the fearful and/or guilty sought solution and refuge, the sweet embrace of secure walls and locked doors. This while the likes of I, proud card carrying member of Ruffian Scum local 898, lay stone drunk in a pool of self manufactured spittle and brine, clinging to a whiskey tree and ashtray as one would two lovers of extreme and equal talent. Out of mind and blind with sleep, lost to the cries of ‘bring out your dead’ until the hard tread of government issued boots made introduction uncomfortably to my very personal ribs and spleen.

And so they caught me, bound me, raged me, dragged me. I, Union Goon Second Class and humble narrator! What ignominy, ruin, disgrace. Dragged free and away from the asylum of my whiskey tree. My cries of ‘I ent dead’ largely ignored, the source of mirth and much pleasure. Yes, caught, dragged, found and bound like a hare soon for the pot. And I said through lips daubed rouge: ‘But sirs and enemies, I en't dead so much as I know.’ They laughed and spit: ‘Soon to be corrected.’

Desolately drawn, kicked, prodded shoved through the streets, trailing an assortment of fluids, clear or red or green/yellow, thick, thin or viscous. Other’s poor fortune turns to my luck as captors trot off, in pursuit of these and lessen in number. Through the streets they drag and haul, roped up like a like a sacrificial dishonoured lover, like a broken bird of prey, like fear and like sin caught in the open day light. ‘Bring out your dead’ more cries of, and the wagon piled three deep with corpses and dust in my eyes making tears of mud and choke. Just hoping to survive the day and welcome the embrace of night. And then they are fewer even, my captors and unwanted honour guard down to two, and falling behind the wagon, isolated and struggle and ropes made looser and reaching and a razor from my boot finds my hand and I am on him, I bite him, I bite him hard, in the knee and in the groin bringing him down and upon the other, said razor between teeth now kissing his neck slowly all the way across and more rouge flowing. ‘Bring out your dead’ he shall cry no more.

Now further freed and it tastes like copper. My velocity of escape is as fast as the half deead may limp, but fast enough, and much faster than corpses. Soon to rest and sleep in the warmth of mud... But first to seek the source of a new and uncompromised whiskey tree.

By: Daniel Smallegange

Capitalize on the Time and Space

Capitalize on the time and space

Granted by the un ambition

Of your foes and comrades and enemies

Alike

Their lack of initiative against you

May well be and is

Your only chance at salvation

Salivate at the thought of

Escaping the noose and extending some

Breathing room this extenuating situation provides

Portends

And read the symbols of the winds

And then think of maybe

How to make amends

For your faults and address the shortcomings

Long lists of such

Your critics have amassed

Capitalize soon for

Your foes and comrades and enemies

May yet retrain their forces

Against you

And tighten the noose once more

By: Daniel Smallegange, all rights reserved 2024.

Pay No Mind

Pay no mind

Pay no mind

Time to sit and just unwind

Time to catch a wayward glance

Time to watch as strangers dance

Throughout the background

Out of the light

Into focus then

Out of sight

But through it all

Pay no mind

Pay no mind

Silent and still

Be not unkind

In thought or deed

Keep your council

Calculate the odds

Pick the best path

Through the fog

Enjoy the view and pass the time

But pay no mind

Pay no mind

And hope the gods react in kind

And hope the fates react

In kind

By: Daniel Smallegange, all rights reserved 2024.

The Fiery Pyres You Build So High

 Sifting through the ashes

Of all you have sacrificed

The aftermath of

The fiery pyres you build so high

To curry favour above and or

Below

To impress the neighbours you make these so grand?

Out of obligation or desire?

Expectation of a return on investment equal?

What is it you seek?

It is hard to discern

But gods don't listen mostly

In my experience

Neither those above in heaven

Nor below in hell

Your pyres of fires consume

Evidence also

Of all your crimes and deeds

Of all you wish discarded

Voodoo dolls decorate your living space too

They're crammed in all over the place

In every nook and cranny

Do these also fulfill your need?

So many pins in so many

Crude form creations

Enemies too you have to match

But what ever happened to those friends though?

The ones you said you had though?

I never seen 'em

And no dolls nor ashes

Represent them

And no visitors knock at your door

At least when I'm around

Maybe if you made dolls for them as well

But kind well meaning ones

These friends would provide you more attention

These friends you say you possess

But all I see is you alone

Sitting in front of your burning pyres

Tending offerings or removing proofs

At least they warm you in the night

These fires you burn so high

By: Daniel Smallegange, 2024, all rights reserved.

The Doctors Insist

 The doctors insist

Your eyes are the cure

They've written me a prescription

With this so inscribed

They've studied and analyzed the facts of the case

They say however

The cure might be worse than the disease

What's in your eyes might prove

Fatal or at least lead to

Unforseeable side effects and

Defects of the heart

Regardless they insist

The breakthrough is you

Kissing your waist might help also

This is unproven and

A theory of my own devising

Kissing your pretty waist

And biting your thighs

Is a hypothesis I would like very much

To test and assess

In the name of science

Your neck also

Elegant as it is

The doctors insist

And all the experts

So it's not really my fault

They've written me a prescription

With these things inscribed

I keep it close to my heart

Until the day we meet

By: Daniel Smallegange, all rights reserved.

Walking Down Along the Road

Walking down along the road

Looking down and all around

Seeking

Always seeking

Hoping to find a friend worth keeping

Hoping to see a soul worth meeting

As we walk our lonely path

Towards a day so far away

So many friends and enemies been

Vanquished from the field of play

As we too begin to grey

Walking up towards a bend

Uncertain if we're at the end

Or if we've come to a new way

And can begin a brand new day

To find that friend or

Seek our end

Walking down along the road

By: Daniel Smallegange, all rights reserved.