Mourning Song - A Lemon Cohen CSi5M

When the weather washes down the walls
And the sad graffiti mark
And all the hearses of the poor
Are drawn up in the dark
The bodies of the mourners are touched by the thought
Of the graceful way that you lay
And the posters whose pasting came to naught
Display all the topics of day.

For don't vacate your coffin, or leave your heady tomb,
For nothing can greet you in the dawn
Like the slow tears of the Moon.

When the rain it splashes down the halls
Where courtly giraffes strode
And all the half chewed acacia leaves
Are stored in jars of spode
The zookeepers of poverty, sweep up the final straw
And bury the lost bones carefully
Where we found
The lion cub's claw.

So don't come from your jungle lair, to city canyon's grey
For the tangle of the vines is lost
In the tramlines of the day.

Before I'm wiped from existance

In the ongoing battle of marginally notable Doctor Who writers to remain on wikipedia...

Here's a copy of my biog in case:

Simon Bucher-Jones (born Simon Jones on 6 September 1964) in Liverpool; he is a British author, poet, artist, and amateur actor, best known for his Doctor Who novels for Virgin and the BBC and as a contributor to the Faction Paradox spin-off series.
He is known for a hard SF approach. He has also written Cthulhu Mythos short stories. He also reviewed books for the Fortean Times, and for small press papers. He maintains a blog at http://www.simonbjones.blogspot.com where he is, among other projects, gradually turning all the Star Wars films into Shakespearean plays. He also markets a range of Cthulhu Mythos artwork t-shirts and mugs. He is also a major contributor of 'hidden cities' to the 'blind atlas' meme. His poetry hs appeared in the Journal of the British Fantasy Society.

Contents  [hide]  1 Doctor Who and related novels for Virgin 2 Doctor Who novels and other material for BBC 3 Non-Series, novels and stories 4 Doctor Who work for Big Finish 5 Faction Paradox 6 Obverse Books 7 Cthulhu Mythos and other Horror work 8 Charity and/or fan publications 9 Self published: "Pantechnikon Press" 10 Charity or amateur theatrical performances 11 External links

Doctor Who and related novels for Virgin [edit]

• The Death of Art (1996) (Seventh Doctor, Roz, Chris Cwej)
• Ghost Devices (1997) (Bernice Summerfield)

Doctor Who novels and other material for BBC [edit]

• The Taking of Planet 5 (1999) (Eighth Doctor, Fitz, Compassion; written with Mark Clapham)
• Grimm Reality (2001) (Eighth Doctor, Fitz, Anji; written with Kelly Hale)
• also: short story War Crimes in BBC short story collection Short Trips (1998)

Non-Series, novels and stories [edit]

• The Ghost of Christmas Sideways (2012) (In Resurrection Engines: Steampunk Anthology edited by Scott Harrison)

Doctor Who work for Big Finish [edit]

• Short story The Thousand Years Of Christmas in the collection The History of Christmas (2005)
• Short story The Painting On The Stair in the Bernice Summerfield collection Collected Works (2006)

Faction Paradox [edit]

• The Book of the War (2002) (contributor) While the entries in The Book of The War are anonymous, it is known that Simon Bucher-Jones wrote more words in it than any other single contributor after the editor. The other contributors in order of wordage were: Daniel O'Mahony, Ian McIntire, Mags L. Halliday, Helen Fayle, Phil Purser-Hallard, Kelly Hale, Jonathan Dennis, and Mark Clapham.

Obverse Books [edit]

• Riviera Showdown in Iris: Abroad (2011) (contributor)
• Her and Allan in Wildthyme in Purple (2011) (contributor)
• After The Velvet Aeon in Burning with Optimism's Flames (2012) (contributor)

Forthcoming

• Double Trouble At The Parasites On The Proletariat Club in More Tales Of The City (2013) (contributor)
• The Brakespeare Voyage Faction Paradox (2013) (Novel with Jonathan Dennis)

Cthulhu Mythos and other Horror work [edit]

• (with James Ambeuhl) The Case of the Curiously Competent Conjuror in the collection Lin Carter's Anton Zarnak, Supernatural Sleuth.
• Some Thoughts On The Problem Of Order in the collection Hardboiled Cthulhu.
• Things To Do In Pornutopia When You're Dead a comic strip in Violent #13, now available [Simon Bucher-Jones writer].

Charity and/or fan publications [edit]

• In the "Days of the 'Days of the Days of Our Lives'"' in 'Missing Pieces
• Tempus Fugit written with James Ambeuhl in Missing Pieces
• The Big Cat in The Cat Who Walked Through Time
• At the Beach in Lifedeath
• The Pulp Of The Black Lotus in Walking In Eternity
• At the Academy in Drabble Who
• Dial M for Metaphysics in the Craig Hinton memorial Fanthology Shelf Life (2008)
• Two Poems in Shooty Dog Thing: 2th & Claw (2011)

Unpublished

• Mr Kitling's Cakes written in 2005 for the proposed charity fanthology The Cat Who Walked Through Time II It is a sequel to *The Big Cat*
• The Temple Of Dagon written in 2004 for the proposed Chaosium anthology The Dagon Cycle
• Passin' Through Judgement written in 2005 for the proposed anthology Tales Of The Outre West

The collections for which these stories were written now seem unlikely to see print. The stories are therefore available to read on Simon Bucher-Jones' blog, and he is open to re-print offers.

Self published: "Pantechnikon Press" [edit]

• Godzilla In East Anglia a collection of poetry available via Lulu and Kindle (2010)

Charity or amateur theatrical performances [edit]

• Jacob in Joseph (St Michael's Church 2007)
• The Slave Seller in Sinbad the Sailor (Pantoloons Pantomime 2008)
• The Stage Manager in Little Dead Riding Hood (Pantoloons Murder Mystery 2008)
• King Rattle in Dick Whittington Goes West (Pantoloons Pantomime Jan 2009)
• Mister Shock in Robinson Crusoe: A Space Oddity (Pantoloons Pantomime Jan 2010)
• Asbad: King of Thieves in Ali Baba and the 40 Thieves (Pantoloons Pantomime Jan 2011)
• Gary: the Nymph in Babez in the Wood (Pantoloons Pantomime Jan 2012)
• Guy of Gisborne in Little Red Riding Hood (Pantoloons Pantomime Jan 2013)

External links [edit]

ONCE BITTEN - A MALTLOAF SONG - CSi5M

If you must date on a full moon
In the dark of the woods
Without even a choker of silver
You risk a dark fate,
Even so, ain't it great,
To feel the howl begin to kill yeh!
Once Bitten!
         Once you felt the fear!
Once Bitten!
          The sounds getting, near!
Once Bitten!
          Now it's you that's Were!
And the people you feared are
Twice Bitten!

If you must carouse in a castle
Across a bottomless ravine
Without even a necklace of garlic
You risk being never more seen,
Even so it's a blast,
To turn into a ghast,
Once Bitten!
        Once you felt the fangs!
Once Bitten!
        Now the hunger pangs!
Once Bitten!
        Scare torch wielding gangs!
With your vampire glare
Twice Bitten!

If you have to assume
That a Mummy's tomb
Is the best place to go va-va-voom!
You risk getting wrapped up,
Even though it's a curse
Well I guess you could do worse,
Once throttled!
       You can't sing a note
Once throttled!
       It's got you by the throat
Once throttled!
      Then it's your turn to gloat!
With your lurching step!
They're throttled!

Mountainside Avalanche a 'Robyn Hitchcock' CSi5M

Oh, let the mountainside roll down
And crush me as you did,
I've yodelled too much of the clown
That serves me for an id,

My inner light is on the skids,
My strategy is dark
I climbed the north face with the kids
Who did it for a lark.

An avalanche of shaking ground
Stones beat me down at last
Some were sharp and some were round,
But all of them were fast.

You were called a mountaineer,
I had vertigo,
You rang like a chandelier
While I had far to go.

And this song makes little sense
Which isn't to be mocked,
If my head's a little dense,
It has been pretty rocked.

Diamonds the size of cars,
Sapphires blue as grey,
Tumbling like shooting stars
Around me as I lay.

Angel shaped upon the snow line
Underneath the fall,
Where the trees could only pine,
And never oak at all.

Flattened by adversity
Flat-lined unto death,
I had not a care you see,
'Til I was out of breath.

Then I scorned your good advice
What else could I do,
You were strong as winter ice,
And I was only blue, boys, I was frozen through.

DCNu UPdate

DCNu Update

I'm now within a hair's breadth of not buying any more DC comics.

With the passing of Grant Morrison from Action as of #18 (A run I liked), and the forthcoming departure from / end of Batman International, I'm left with no
ongong titles I like.  But then I am nearly 49.

Simon BJ

Her Name Was Merlina CSi5m

Been a while, here's a 'Pulp' song..


I knew a girl and her name was Merlina,
If you saw her in the street you'd know that you'd seen her,
She had braided hair,
And a thousand mile stare.

She wore a torc and rings that were runic,
Silver chains and a dark velvet tunic,
She was kind,
And that's hard to find.

I asked her out, but she loved another,
I nursed a beer and I phoned my mother,
I said, "I'm at a loss",
And my mum got cross.

"If you took some pains with your appearance,
Didn't give up and showed perseverance,
Maybe you'd do well,
You can never tell."

I said, "Ta mum," and stashed my mobile,
Felt as if my smile had been at Chernobyl,
It was melting down,
To a glowing frown.

I knew a girl who was weird and mystic,
Made me want to do something altruistic,
But I never did
I just dressed up and hid.

Merlina married, the one she loved, see?
Never saw the neat, suited, hat and gloved me,
The one who tries,
And sometimes cries.

MORE TALES OF THE CITY

 More Tales Of The City, preview of my story

My brother author and all-round good Egg, Philip Purser-Hallard is setting out his stall for the forthcoming More Tales of The City: a collection set in the galaxy-sized City that houses the entirety of the human species and (to certain limits) its hominid and posthuman-successors, resurrected by applied technologies across the Ages.

With all this scope to handle I've chosen to pen a story about a feckless young chump at the thin edge of the brainy wedge. The trailer and the others posted or yet to come can be found from the link above. Philip has been astonishing generous and fulsome in his praise, to which I would only say that while he has cited specific incidents in my books which 'did' as a matter of brute fact originate with me, two of the books he boosts would have been substantially less super without my always worthy of gratitude co-writers: Mark Clapham and Kelly Hale, and many critics have taken the view that my other books would *also* have been improved by co-writers.

Kelly for one also has a staggeringly excellent story in MTOC. So go buy MORE TALES OF THE CITY (idc), it's great.

Simon BJ

Liking (in) Sagrada Familia

LIKE looking up
In a stone forest where
Stars have tangled in the
Branches of the winter trees.

LIKE bathing in different
Coloured streams
From pools lit
By a thousand moons.

LIKE feeling that
(In imagination, if not
perhaps in fact)
The soul is redeemed.

LIKE hearing the
Approving murmur of
The angels at the
Sandcastles of humanity.

LIKE corkscrews
Opening the good wine,
The stairs rise
To heavens under construction.

LIKE walking upside down
Under the open wells
Of sweet water
In the stone-clad sky.

LIKE stained glass aquaria
Through which shadow-fish
Make patterns of
The outer worlds.

LIKE a mechanism
Making Art from Faith,
Beauty From Belief,
While using up neither.



(Lines written while walking round Barcelona's Cathedral)

THE BRAKESPEARE VOYAGE - Update II

Update

2nd draft now with co-writer and editor.  I'm going to be off-line until the 8th April.
Anything interesting that gets cut for length I promise will appear either here or
elsewhere in due course.  Anything rubbish that gets cut for being rubbish I won't inflict on you all.

I still can't announce my immediately next project but I've already written 2,500+ words of it.

Later this year (2013) I also hope to publish another poetry collection.

In 2014, I hope to publish an anthology set around the OBITUARIA blind atlas meme, with short stories by myself and other brilliant authors.  More on this in the near future.

Simon BJ

THE BRAKESPEARE VOYAGE

A:   its  reddish  91  masked
and  had  of  face  it
the  old  On  a  its
of  was  the  sex  a
crew  that  an  been  lenses.
had  of  face  it  The
atoms,  have  chords,  bag,
burlap  of  was  the  sex
its  reddish  91  masked  sac.
inset  filled  inset  and  the
black  sac  filled  old  have
the  sex  a  black  that
that  atoms,  have    chords,
eternity  that  it  obscene  carried
sinew  was  crew  masked  black
carried  reddish  sacking,  face  that
placental  its  bag,  sac.  others.
face  dray-horse,  from  robes  it
that  it  obscene  carried  reddish
long,  to  hump,  reddish  burlap
crew  that  an  been  lenses.
bag,  timeship  eyes.  and  and
had  of  face  it  The
figure  sending  air  had  of
crew  that  an  been  lenses.
from  robes  it  up  in
it  eternity  that  it  obscene
atoms,  have    chords,  bag,
had  of  hump,  and  the
hurt  it  eternity  that  it
shape.  on  its  was  its
to  mask,  face  dray-horse,  from
figure  masked  91  hurt  a
was  the  sex  a  black
its  was  its  might  with
Its  once  an  far  watcher’s
had  of  hump,  and  the
cloud  it  sending  of  to
had  shape.  on  its  was...

THE DUNWICH HORROR

Rise one Ayelesbury, upon just
"And of the gnarled the,
at singulary the wild and
spied  on  ruts  the  The
the  wild  and  rise  so
upon  just  in  weeds,  to
he  the  confronted  gnarled  Dean's
have  and  gets  luxuriance  have
why,  often  be  closer  Those
often  then  and  Dean's  not
things,  the  Without  seem  closer
confronted  lonely  aspect  trees  nothing
weeds,  to  things,  sloping,  the
Massachusetts  the  furtive  at  singularly
"The  the  and  of  the "
one  Massachusetts  the  furtive  at
just  weeds,  frequent  large,  At
crumbling  lonely  the  attain  the
a  he  the  confronted  gnarled
directions  The  the  and  of
one  Those  directions  The  the
"fork  beyond  the  or  few "
do.  At  barren;  to  When
attain  often  often  then  and
lonely  the  attain  the  The
things,  the  Without  seem  closer
walls  just  by  it  it
just  by  it  it  junction
"road.  hesitates  ask  and  to "
the  wild  and  rise  so "
the  and  why,  often  be "
closer  Those  found  brambles  have
closer  Those  found  brambles  have
the  furtive  at  singularly  the
in  weeds,  to  things,  sloping,
things,  sloping,  the  one  Massachusetts
"curious  hesitates  closer  closer  things, "
lonely  aspect  trees  nothing  silent
trees  nothing  silent  age,  brambles.

Randomiser Poems - Pre-amble.

Considering whether an algorithm could convert text to 'modern'
poetry. I wrote a quick tool to take a text string, strip it to words.
number each one and, randomise the string, and then give it in five
word chunks. 

Poems 'written' using this I will tag as Randomiser Poems.
I will refine the method and see whether, interesting prose in
= interesting poem out.



Simon BJ

1918 to 2918

1918

By Kipling


This is the State above the Law.
The State exists for the State alone."
[This is a gland at the back of the jaw,
And an answering lump by the collar-bone.]

Some die shouting in gas or fire;
Some die silent, by shell and shot.
Some die desperate, caught on the wire -
Some die suddenly. This will not.

"Regis suprema voluntas Lex"
[It will follow the regular course of--throats.]
Some die pinned by the broken decks,
Some die sobbing between the boats.

Some die eloquent, pressed to death
By the sliding trench as their friends can hear
Some die wholly in half a breath.
Some--give trouble for half a year.

"There is neither Evil nor Good in life
Except as the needs of the State ordain."
[Since it is rather too late for the knife,
All we can do is to mask the pain.]

Some die saintly in faith and hope--
One died thus in a prison-yard--
Some die broken by rape or the rope;
Some die easily. This dies hard.

"I will dash to pieces who bar my way.
Woe to the traitor! Woe to the weak! "
[Let him write what he wishes to say.
It tires him out if he tries to speak.]

Some die quietly. Some abound
In loud self-pity. Others spread
Bad morale through the cots around .
This is a type that is better dead.

"The war was forced on me by my foes.
All that I sought was the right to live."
[Don't be afraid of a triple dose;
The pain will neutralize all we give.

Here are the needles. See that he dies
While the effects of the drug endure. . . .
What is the question he asks with his eyes?--
Yes, All-Highest, to God, be sure.]


2918

By Simon Bucher-Jones


This is the Time of Recompense.
The State lives not for the State alone."
[Every life that is lived is within the dense,
Recording mass of the space-time foam.]

Some wake shouting of gas or fire;
Some wake silent, where shelling’s not.
Some wake desperate for their lost sire -
Some wake fearing the fire that’s hot.

"De minimus non curat Lex"
[We are not the judges of the former dead.]
Some wake in the comfort of holo-decks,
Some wake in a rebuild of their last bed.

Some wake eloquent, impressed with life
With a quip awaiting a living ear
Some wake grasping for the fatal knife,
Some—lie catatonic for half a year.

"There is neither Evil nor Good in rebirth
We are not the judges of the dust that wept."
[A body can bring forth both sorrow and mirth,
No evil lived when in death they slept..]

Some wake saintly in faith and hope--
One woke thus who hanged in prison-yard--
Some wake broken in mind, or habit, or trope;
Some memories are easy. Some are hard.

"I set my German will on the servile slave.
Woe to the gypsy! Woe to the jew!"
[We wipe away what we can not save.
Some minds will have to be built anew.]

Some wake quietly. Some abound
In loud self-pity. Others spread
Their ancient feuds through the cots around.
We are not the judges who winnow the dead.

"The war was forced on me by my foes.
I sought the lebensraum they would not give."
[Some minds have made all these dreary woes;
Nevertheless every mind will live.]

Here are the needles. See that he wakes
The effects of rebuilding and drugs will pass. . . .
Have we the soul balm that torment slakes?--
No, for we are not, God, alas.]

On seeking absolution on a full stomach

Strap me to your rack, Torquemada
As things are going you can do your worst
I confess I ate all the cake from the larder
And now I feel as if I'm going to burst.

Stare at me now severely Savonarola
I know my life's not been lived as you would
But I can't face my fears on just granola
And that is why I ate up all the pud.

Pray for me if you can St. Francis
As you would pray for any lamb of course
I always find with lamb though that my glance is
Distracted by the roasties and mint sauce.

The Brakespeare Voyage

I've been working on a novel for ten years on and off, and with the
help of a co-writer Jonathan Dennis I've now finished the full first draft
108,402 words.

The one eventually up for sale may be leaner and meaner, but this is the
work needed before that.

For anyone waiting for more poetry and nonsense, this is what I've been doing.
I hope you'll like it.  Poetry and nonsense will resume as soon as practical.

But I also hope to announce some other writing projects shortly.

Simon BJ

Reviews of Resurrection Engines

 Review of Resurrection Engines

Ah, I've had it pointed out to me that this review, isn't by *that* Rachel, never the less I liked her story in Resurrection Engines so much that I'm as chuffed, as if she'd written the post-Grant Morrison Doom Patrols,
so there!

Other reviews in the Financial Times and Hub can be found on-line. They're less about my story, but you'll learn more of the excellent collection as a whole.

Simon BJ

The Hangmen - a note.

The Hangmen are my daughter Morgan's imaginary band, and she came up with the titles (all so dark) of their 'debut' album "And Those Who Hate Them". I'll be posting their songs as I write them. The song "And Those Who Hate Them" itself can be found on the blog along with the cover art.

The Songs:   Beyond The Grave
                    Dark Revenge
                    Enemy Friends
                    Warning Ahead
                    Zombie Alert
                    Frightened Fish
                    X-tream Darkness
                    Slaughtered Doom
                    The Demented Dead
                    And Those Who Hate Them

Dark Revenge

Best served cold, on ebony dishes

You'll regret how you spurned my offerin'

I'll teach you all to thwart my wishes

When worms are crawling in your coffin

You'll regret how you spurned my offerin'

All I have to do is wait, you non-immortals quickly pass

When worms are crawling in your coffin

You're getting older that's your fate, Death's waiting with his hour-glass

All I have to do is wait, you non-immortals quickly pass

Dark Revenge, it's midnight feasting

You're getting older that's your fate, Death's waiting with his hour-glass

Dark Revenge, unleash the beast thing!

Dark Revenge, it's midnight feasting

Dark Revenge, it's planned and plotted

Dark Revenge, unleash the beast thing!

Dark Revenge, the order's blotted

Dark Revenge, it's planned and plotted

Best served hot, in a flaming platter

Dark Revenge, the order's blotted

I'll teach you all to fawn and flatter

Best served hot, in a flaming platter

You'll regret how you tried to screw me

I'll teach you all to fawn and flatter

When you find your tomb is not that roomy

You'll regret how you tried to screw me

All I have to do is sate, my blood-thirst on your pulsing veins

When you find your tomb is not that roomy

You'll be having growing pains

All I have to do is sate, my blood-thirst on your pulsing veins

As you wax and swell and fester

You'll be having growing pains

Dark Revenge, you'll be my jester

As you wax and swell and fester

I'll teach you all to thwart my wishes

Dark Revenge, you'll be my jester

Best served cold, on ebony dishes

[Another Hangman song, from the Album "And Those Who Hate Them"]

Beyond the Grave

Beyond the grave are there the undiscovered countries of the light? Are there somewhere citadels of rubies and of jet? Or is it just a place of endless, never changing night? Where shrinking skin shows nails and teeth, as growing shards of white And there's no hope of resurrection, yet? Beyond the grave are there the undiscovered countries of the light? Does the barge of a thousand Suns, sail down the Nile's might? Are there pryamids faced with old gold, where the sun goes to set? Or is it just a place of endless, never changing night? Where nothing lies beyond the bounds of coffin walls, so tight, And there's no hope our wider dreams are met? Beyond the grave are there the undiscovered countries of the light? Beyond the grave is there another chance at right? Or is this life the only bite we get? Or is it just a place of endless, never changing night? That even lacks the skeletons, beyond our own self-sight To scare us with the, shudders that we get, Beyond the grave are there the undiscovered countries of the light? Or is it just a place of endless, never changing night? [Another Hangman song from the Album "And Those That Hate Them"]

Shadows - a Lemon Cohen Song

I feel that something now in me is fading and is slowing

A sense perhaps, that I was ever strong

Though hereabout tall lime trees still, are shadowed and are growing

My shadow, as a shadow, isn't now so deep or long.

A sense perhaps, that I was ever strong

Has vanished, and I fail to make impressions, that will linger

My shadow, as a shadow, isn't now so deep or long.

The book I read defeats me, I'm afraid the moving finger

Has vanished, and I fail to make impressions, that will linger

To show me what my eyes are resting on.

The book I read defeats me, I'm afraid the moving finger

That once would follow holy light through tricks and paradoxes vast

And win me through to truth at last

Now fails as my eyes blur with tears of sorrow

That once would follow holy light through tricks and paradoxes vast

Unsightful now just flinch against the twilight of the morrow

Now: fails as my eyes blur with tears of sorrow.

And the older that my eyes get, the less they greet the morning

Unsightful now just flinch against the twilight of the morrow

As I shiver in the coolness, and hollows that are yawning

And the older that my eyes get, the less they greet the morning

For the grey of life grows over all my strength

As I shiver in the coolness, and hollows that are yawning

And the other shadows lengthen and are darker in their length

For the grey of life grows over all my strength

Like moss or creeping lichen on the stonework of the altar

And the other shadows lengthen and are darker in their length

As the last nights now are falling, when the powers of light must falter

Like moss or creeping lichen on the stonework of the altar

That once would exalt living light, in starlights on the dome of night

As the last nights now are falling, when the powers of light must falter

Unless the Sun will rise again, in warmth and love and light

That once would exalt living light, in starlights on the dome of night

Though hereabout tall lime trees still, are shadowed and are growing

Unless the Sun will rise again, in warmth and love and light

I feel that something now in me is fading and is slowing