Arzathon / Blog

Wormwood's Blood

Even in ruin and degradation The morbidness of the modern A sinister perversion of pride Suffers in this external world A holy alchemy This intimate sanctuary of beauty The water of that star The blood of Wormwood That obscure night The valley of humiliation That curious bewilderment of the mind With shades of Dorian Gray... Aestheticism, decadence, bohemianism Lust and hopelessness, sobriety of habit The art of being an artist Even in ruin and degradation (arzathon)

Forest Soul

Guided by the wind Doubt has twisted my illusion This preacher of godlessness Perdition and thunder Weaving her web Mirages of imagination Enslave this traveller That cursed absinthe - without fear I inhale the forest's soul A vain paradise (arzathon)

Vagrant Days

Old penniless vagrant days Epicure of my emotions So much grist of art Lost in this huge labyrinth Bound by man made laws Arbitrary and oppressive Inspiration for artisans Inspiration for rebellion These days of all souls Melancholy festival of souvenirs Vibrating with hope and passion That turning point of life All your geese are swans Almost intoxicated Feeling - unutterable sadness and regret Sacrificed on the altar of sentiment (arzathon)

A Strange Passion

An artistic desire The distress of poets A strange passion for beauty Voyages from a distant land The secrets of art All rare and costly Dark-veined onyx, pale poppies, this holy oil Smoke curled blue wreaths through the mind A marvellous mystical light Misery, wake us in the morning Cast anchor, haul down the sail The adders hissed As death laughed Out of the slime - beautiful poisonous flowers To fill the winter of his days This world's sorrow Made misery wiser Still, chained to my neighbour Creeps poverty with dark woodland eyes Then fell upon his knees Tugged at this coarse rope life Or some thing of horror As joy broke from his lips Sank down into the deep human soul Lost.......... (arzathon)


Drunk He lies in wait for me The Wars of Men The opera of justice Clothing cruelty with charm That old hell Wealth Spattered with blood That sick dispair In streets In churches Across a dead calm sea Mountains Shores The marching of mankinds slaves Finance Is a season of comfort Poets and storytellers Painters and sculptors with a duty to seek that rough reality Embrace Those ports of misery the poetic grotesque (arzathon)

African witchcraft

Gaps have appeared part of the extended group decaying in melted time one lost amoungst us the issues of the future are as yet undreamt in a computor time network of ourselves by others mentally ill and politically backward the task survival face to face the voice of torment they are short sighted and rooted in disease we have a challenge to be side by side the defense department developed the needle the void that festers between your way of life and the body of another genesis must have taken place in a computor time network continual internal motion of ourselves by others and others by ourselves

Paradox of our Time

The paradox of our time in history is that we have taller buildings but shorter tempers, wider Freeways, but narrower viewpoints. We spend more, but have less, we buy more, but enjoy less. We have bigger houses and smaller families, more conveniences, but less time. We have more degrees but less sense, more knowledge, but less judgment, more experts, yet more problems, more medicine, but less wellness. We drink too much, smoke too much, spend too recklessly, laugh too little, drive too fast, get too angry, stay up too late, get up too tired, read too little, watch TV too much, and pray too seldom. We have multiplied our possessions, but reduced our values. We talk too much, love too seldom, and hate too often. We've learned how to make a living, but not a life. We've added years to life not life to years. We've been all the way to the moon and back, but have trouble crossing the street to meet a new neighbor. We conquered outer space but not inner space. We've done larger things, but not better things. We've cleaned up the air, but polluted the soul. We've conquered the atom, but not our prejudice. We write more, but learn less. We plan more, but accomplish less. We've learned to rush, but not to wait. We build more computers to hold more information, to produce more copies than ever, but we communicate less and less. These are the times of fast foods and slow digestion, big men and small character, steep profits and shallow relationships. These are the days of two incomes but more divorce, fancier houses, but broken homes. These are days of quick trips, disposable diapers, throwaway morality, one night stands, overweight bodies, and pills that do everything from cheer, to quiet, to kill. It is a time when there is much in the showroom window and nothing in the stockroom. A time when technology can bring this letter to you, and a time when you can choose either to share this insight, or to just hit delete...

Union Street Copse (The Meeting)

Well...Yesterday (27th/03/14), as mentioned was the big council meet, so I got to Back2wood earlier than normal, and sat with Fred & Elma (names changed to protect the innocent), not for a battleplan, just an early coffee to discuss the minutes of our meeting ;) It was decided I would walk down with peps (dog), Fred needing to get there by car as walking is hard since his back problems make walking long distances impossible....so I set off and arrived within minutes the Copse being only down the road from Back2wood, sure enough this person (a nonhumanoid I later discovered) came walking out from the Copse, looked me over with some sort of look of distain..but I was willing to give even a nonhumanoid a chance to make a good impression, so I asked if she (this nonhumanoid being of the female sex I believed) was there to meet Elma, her response was, as if we were of absolutely no importance that she was there to meet somebody but hadn't bothered to take a name..Oh I said, thinking how rude, so I walked into the Copse and then noticed she had brought company, somebody from the highways department we later assumed, because gardening wasn't something he knew much about, other than it'll grow back, natures good like that, always grows back...anyway..I looked around and asked them both if they thought that this job they had done was exceptable, that the Copse was now in effect ruined, and that's when it started lie after lie after lie flooded from them, the pathways had been overgrown, trees had fallen onto some paths and made them unpassable, none of which was true, they had taken 5 tons of rubbish out of the copse, a lie, at best they'd taken maybe a few bags away, because most of the rubbish is still there..then syringes and condoms had been found..it went on and on. When I they told them that these were all lies, and how dare they stand there and lie, whereupon the nonhumanoid wanted to leave, she wouldn't be spoken to like that...I told her what did she expect, you do a crap job, ruin the Copse...at this point she wanted to leave again if I continued to swear at her and be aggressive...when did crap become a swear word...then Fred and Elma drove up,,and things change whereas I have and air of otherworldliness, from years of being an artists, living a life of decadence well beyond my means..this nonhumanoid obviously percieved this as my being some kind of lowlife..worthy of nothing but distain & lies from her...Fred and Elma, though good people, have an air of respectabilty, I supose comes from years of running a business and having to deal with business people, but the lies kept coming, these two people from the council had absolutely no respect for us, not enough to at least be honest with us, they had no facts to back up any of there statements, they were forever tripping themselves up with their lies..Fred was bombarding them with fact after fact, we showed them photos, showing no blocked paths, they insisted there was a need for what they had done, the Copse had become dangerous, people were being attacked it needed to be opened up so it was easier to overlook.it was to dark in there..laughable.maybe if they switched on some streetlights it wouldn't be some dark...this went on and on, lie after lie...they are facists, there is no other word for it, these people are nolonger accountable to us, of course this is a tory council, what else would it be...they couldn't wait to get rid of welfare rights in this town, since then the council has done pretty much what it wants regardless of the wishes of us citizens...we pointed out to this nonhumanoid that nobody had been informed about this work to be carried out in the Copse, she told us that they don't do this...people would complain..so I pointed out that that's the point of a democracy, being able to complain, discuss...vote on what should be done..went right over her head. To see the Copse we speak of visit http://www.facebook.com/thespeakerscorner


..First things first, let me welcome you to this little site, which I'm hoping will become the gateway into my little Rodent Tapes empire here in cyber space. What is Rodent tapes about, music and art in general, in my world art being the only medium that speaks the truth..and lets not mistake things for art that really are not..boybands selling perfume and god knows what else..sexual titillation ..intellectual rape. posing as music / art .. I digress...I'm hoping to make (with your help) Rodent Tapes the place to buy music / art that means something, not just dollar signs for managers and business men..a place where musicians and artists can find out how to run there own labels, promote their own art, become truely independent...where those who love music can speak with the artists they purchase music/art from, either here or using links to facebook and other pages...we live on a planet that is suffering from a spiritual decline, where certain fools spend to much of their time convincing themselves they are better than others, and unless we do something it won't get better...So I hope you will find the time to join the Forum, leave a link, in time I will add it to the Links page..just make yourself at home... http://arzathon.moonfruit.com