After extending the story of Houses of the Holey, which isn't really a story but I made it into one from a few of the catchy phrases in the lyrics, the epic story-poem, call it whatever you want, kept telling itself, so to speak, or so to write.
And yes, I listened to the song the ENTIRE time I was writing the each chapter, which means that I listened to the song a lot!
Remember to read while you are listening to Led Zeppelin's song Houses of the Holy. The beat will make the story that much more fun and readable.
I would like to note that I do not enjoy reading "critiques" or "analysis" of literature before reading anything. However, I did need to read Einstein's notes on his Relativity (the version for the layman, which is really too heavy duty for the layman) and found them useful and necessary, and wished the Maestro had written more, more more! Einstein is Maestro II in my Princess Boo Stories. Maestro I is Newton (or the other way around, I forget).
If you are a Led Zeppelin fan as I am, you no doubt love, luv, l-o-v-e Houses of the Holy. The lyrics are copied below:
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Let me take you to the movies. Can I take you to the show
Let me be yours ever truly. Can I make your garden grow
From the houses of the holy, we can watch the white doves go
From the door comes Satan's daughter, and it only goes to show.
You know.
There's an angel on my shoulder, In my hand a sword of gold
Let me wander in your garden. And the seeds of love I'll sow. You
know.
So the world is spinning faster. Are you dizzy when you're stoned?
Let the music be your master. Will you heed the master's call
Oh... Satan and man.
Said there ain't no use in crying. Cause it will only, only drive you mad
Does it hurt to hear them lying? Was this the only world you had?
Oh-oh
So let me take you, take you to the movie. Can I take you, baby, to the show.
Why don't you let me be yours ever truly. Can I make your garden
grow
You know.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Part I. Sending his Brother Away
I got the pic of Satan’s daughter standing in a doorway to a
bordello in Reconstruction Era New Orleans (don’t ask me why New Orleans, maybe
because the Orleans casino is a large Southern estate-like mansion on its
façade.)
Reconstruction Era, for you furreners (j/k), foreigners,
internationals who I love because all seven of you read my writing, lol, is the
period in American history after the Civil War. The South went through a very
rough period, as after President Lincoln was assassinated, the Northern Congressmen
were unforgiving in their policies toward the South. Some would say the deep
South deserved such punitive measures. Today, many reenact famous Civil War
battles and fly the Confederate flag. (These are the states that voted very red
in the election this month, btw.) Evidently, most people did not espouse
Abraham Lincoln’s view that:
“I have always found that mercy bears greater fruits than strict
justice.”
If Lincoln had said “punishment” in lieu of “justice” I think I
might have agreed with him more, in light of the word “always” also being in
there. I think he meant: with “strict administration of the law, justice is not
always served because no law is perfect, being either too over-inclusive or not
enough, and not being able to tailor judgments to every single situation. But
we all get the point.
Anyway, and she’s standing there (Satan’s daughter, sorry for the
digression), much like Mae West in “Diamond Lil”. But of course, she has to be
waiting for somebody or somebody has to be passing by that catches her eye, or
vice versa. Satan’s daughter, not Mae West, or maybe both. J or all three,
Diamond Lil, too.
Who else but Michael, since he’s got his flaming sword in hand. So
the story begins, and soon I found myself daydreaming about famous scenes from
the Bible, that are well documented in gilded paintings on doorway panels in
Byzantine and Eastern Orthodox Churches, as well as ornately carved panels in
Western Cathedrals.
Part I, posted earlier, tells of Michael readying for battle with
Lucifer, who was the original bad-ass archangel, bigger than Michael back then.
When Lucifer gathers his host of angels that are willing to follow him into
battle against God, God sends Archangel Michael, God’s new right-hand man, er,
angel.
In the first part of this epic poem, Michael is readying for
battle. He’s donning his chain mail (don’t ask me why angels need armor) over
his wings (feather, not rainbow wings). His chain mail is a bit corroded and
stinky because Michael never bathes, as angels need not. However, chain mail
does need upkeep even if angels do not. After all those battles, the
perspiration and blood, if indeed angels bleed or sweat, must take its toll on
Michael’s armor and garments. Since angels are sinless (except Lucifer and
those who went down with him), Michael doesn’t need to shower, so the joke here
is that pure Michael might be a bit stinky (only something that people who are
sensitive to the slightest odors would think about, Eew).
That’s also why Michael might feel a bit bland, as some
philosophical schools of thought would agree that good cannot exist without
evil, since there would be nothing by which to compare the former (or the
latter). How do you know what is good if there is no bad? (Or the idea of
“evil”?) Thus, badness is not such a bad thing and a necessity. In my epic
story poem at least.
Gabs of course is Archangel Gabriel, the Bearer of Good Tidings
since he appeared before the Virgin Mary to tell her that the child she was
bearing was from God. That’s why he’s all happy and has bouncy curls (that was
in an older version). Michael has salon-fatigued curls (later chapter) because
he’s unsettled in mind and spirit for some reason, especially after seeing
Satan’s daughter.
Looking out to heaven’s blue sky (which is never red, btw),
Michael sees the approach of his brother Lucifer, which makes him sad, Michael,
not Lucifer. For although the Bible and most fire-and-brimstone religions are
black and white, I cannot imagine brothers who truly love each other being
happy about killing each other and never seeing the other again. Although the
Bible tells of God being sad that Lucifer was lost, the general tone of the
Church is pretty cold towards Satan.
That’s what’s behind Michael’s “queer mix of love” for his brother
Lucifer, as Lucifer, knowing heaven and sin is the only of the archangels to
know (in the Biblical sense of having lived) right from wrong, to be
distinguished from Archangel Michael, who knows in theory what is right and
wrong but has only ever practiced “right”.
I correct myself: On this day, if heaven is measured in such
terms, heaven does bleed with red, so I guess the skies must have been pretty
purple (or maybe lavender since heaven is light blue. Actually, you would
probably get a darkish reddish purple. Merely wishful thinking on my part since
lavender is a happier color.)
Lucifer’s nickname is Luz (no, not in the Bible, in my story),
which means “light” in Spanish. That leads into my reference to the morning
star, Venus, which some would not approve as some do not believe that devils
should be referred to as guiding stars.
I don’t care because this is my poem. So, crank up Led Zep’s Houses of the Holy and read this poem to its tempo.
You’ll see it reads pretty darn well.
On to Part Due.
Part II : Casting out of the Garden of Eden, Wishing he could
go too
Click here for my new lyrics to "Houses of the Holy."
Click here for my new lyrics to "Houses of the Holy."
Again, Michael must banish someone from somewhere. This time: Adam
and Eve from the Garden of Eve. I got this picture in my head from listening
to:
There's an angel on my shoulder, In my hand a sword of gold
Let me wander in your garden.
a few too many times too many. Seems that someone is always being
banished for something, this time, our progenitors for eating of the fruit of
the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. I don’t like it that the woman gets
blamed, since curiosity is a good thing for progress. If you consider what has
really picked the world out of poverty, disease, famine, and the dark ages,
it’s science (not religion), and the curious scientists that move the world.
Nice that the Church put Galileo on house arrest or Leonardo DaVinci had to
sneak to the morgue to dissect a human body. All condemned by Religigos
(pronounced Reli-jigos, like “Gigolos”) who enjoy the benefits of Scientistas
(you heard it here first, along with Religigos) conveniently forgetting to
apologize for persecuting the curious scientists for being curious.
So, the end of Eden is Paradise lost as Adam and Eve are waiting
for Michael to banquish (a combo of “banish” and “vanquish”, my goal is to
create the most new American words of any person ever!) them for eating of the
fruit of the Forbidden Tree of Knowledge (of Good and Evil). Don’t ask me why
they’re waiting
There they wait with bags
that match,
but Michael is a-coming.
Soon, we get to the famous scene where sword aloft and blazing,
Michael drives the two East of Eden, another picture that has since cast the
West as Good and the East as bad. (I’m glad I live in the Western hemisphere.)
It’s a little overkill, I think, to light up his sword. It’s not as if Adam and
Eve couldn’t be pushed out without a blazing sword. That’s where I got the:
Behind them Mike’s toy licks up hail
it’s really just for showing off.
He really likes to wow
the females
Eve and Adam have their bags packed, waiting beside their nude
bodies between two trees, the second tree being the Tree of Life. And here’s
where I agree that Eve should be blamed: why did she eat from the Tree of
Knowledge of Good and Evil first? If it were me, I would have eaten of the Tree
of Life first. Now being immortal, does it matter if I know everything? Then,
at leisure, I could decide the benefits and costs of eating from the Tree of
Knowledge of Good and Evil. (Some might counter that God would give humankind
pain and that living forever would be a literal pain in the butt and other
places.)
For if one lives long enough, one can learn a whole lot and not
have to eat from the Forbidden Fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil.
Who needs it?
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
As for Michael, he continues his bland ways:
In the distance, hear the thunder
and a complacent kind of humming.
And:
He looks clinically at
the two that stand
but one a bit more than the
other
Who knows? Maybe Archangel Michael will be able to feel one
of these days? Catch the next installment if you want to find out!
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Part I: Sending his brother away
Michael stands and shoe shines his things
with the underside of his
feathers.
They’re a sight these handsome wings,
will withstand all inclement weathers.
That’s a good thing for on the eve
he’ll fly out leading battle.
And the last thing he needs to grieve
is for them to give a rattle.
You know.
Getting dressed is a production.
Got that sword of his that fires
into ribbons of destruction,
Sends you down into the quagmires.
Oh –oh.
Chain mail of his is somethin’ swell,
made of things weird and unman.
You gotta’ get used to the smell
but I’d avoid it if you can.
Whoah –oh .
Because He who is as the Lord
forgets at times to sponge on down.
But who needs it when he can afford
a thousand stainless gowns?
For if angels could be vain
Mike would be our leading man
affectation for being unstained
He would be his own best fan.
You know. That’s right.
But that’s why he feels so bland
Immortal and without sin
Virtues he doesn’t understand
having angels and saints for kin
Enters Gabs just in from riding
Dragons, with a smile on his face.
Gabs: the bearer of good tidings--
Mike puts high ones in their place.
Chief prince reads the sky blue pages
Longing lumps of pain for his brother
Whom he hasn’t seen for ages
Cause he belongs to another.
It’s
so-o.
Speck turns to dense crimson flaring
buzzes along heaven’s lines above.
Come the hosts of Lucifer blaring
Mike feels a queer mix of love.
Was there anyone so gently strong
as Lucifer his
beloved light?
Since Luz was the one to know wrong
was the only who too knew right.
So began the battle of Hosts
heavenly, deadly, and sanguine.
It left many if not most,
letting out a gruesome whine.
Oh. oh.
First lamb is cast from the fold
looks like this’s Mike’s new day job
clasps Lucifer’s hand but he can’t hold
lets him go with
lurid sob.
Oh-oh.
Lucifer falls and yet leaves warning:
he’s not really all that far;
Look to Venus in the morning
you see his light-giving star.
Part II: Casting out of the Garden of Eden, Wishing
he could go too
Uh, oh.
Here’s Mike to rip asunder.
Eden’s ending with his coming.
In the distance, hear the thunder
and a complacent kind of humming.
He steps lightly, feathers taut
senses alert like a wide-eyed bug
going into an invisible knot
sees nothing--continues with a shrug.
There they wait with bags that match
‘tween
the two trees that let them know:
There are things beyond their green patch
that their paradise would not show.
You know.
He looks clinically at
the two that stand
but one a bit more than the other
then peers at the lines of the man
places his hand upon his brother
You know.
The man’s look comes from seeing things
that he wasn’t meant to see.
Alas, now does those things that bring
blights of that accursed tree.
Oh – oh.
Cause it’s easier to blame the fruit
or even the serpent’s tongue
frankly all of it is moot
the promises his woman sung
Oh – oh-oh. . .
At last, grudging Mike must glance
at the female looking beyond.
It seems she prefers her chance
and looks forward to the dawn.
Behind them Mike’s toy licks up hail
it’s really just for showing off.
He really likes to wow the females
with his aching sword aloft.
You know.
At the edge, Mike rests his arm
and stands just to the inside.
She turns and he sees with alarm
the gleaming eyes of a bride
Oh-oh, Satan and Man.
Mike didn’t know but he would face
those gleaming eyes again.
Inscrutable in time or place
When he’d be ready to begin.
But for now Mike returns alone
to quiet houses of the holy.
Where only the mighty like he are prone
to stare out longingly at the lowly.
Oh – oh – oh.
The lowly were a-walking
Dragging feet and stepping toes, then
One says a prayer and hand crossing
the other just says an amen.
Oh-oh, Man and Satan.
Part III:
And now here comes Michael walking.
And now here comes Michael walking.
going bluely through one of those phases
when all archangels go stalking
It’s
just not one of his days-es.
You know.
Wings are weary and sword is gaunt
from hacking demons ‘n bad things
feather in his cap’s lost its jaunt
as the drooping of his wings.
He steps slowly, not quite sideways
Looking as only an angel could
almost wishing he could not stay
near
envying those that would.
not qui-i-te.
Already he’s been sighted,
and it’s far too late to turn
‘cause that’s exactly when he can't fight it
At least that is what he’s learned
You
know.
He braces while she lightly skips
Wary, watches her burning eyes
and smacks at her dripping lips
Darkens his eyes in disguise
She offers a few words of Eve
of gently
swaying limbs
that Mike just had to believe
of wanton, calling whims
whoah-oh.
Mike’s heard her truths are token
and has
yet to enjoy one
but wonders if something broken
is better than new and none.
Pale curls are salon fatigued
Showing signs of shivering stress
waving over his eyes intrigued.
Will he settle more for less?
Who
knows.
As Mike droops down to listen
She leans forward in a way
that makes Mike’s eyes misten
to
know happiness for a day.
Oh-oh-oh.
He looks up into the milky way
speaks
a condition of return
She looks down in thwarted delay
then up, for she too has learned
you know
her eyes skip a beat of planning
and
imagines out tomorrow
for if Mike today is still standing
sometime for sure he’ll meet his sorrow.
he
knows
yet she plans to take her foe
for if Mike’s to walk in hand
with sword blazing, he will know
that one
day he was a man.
Oh-oh-oh.
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