Rudimentary Peni

The music you hear -even the voice- especially the
voice is constructed entirely from bones breaking,
blood flowing, and the like.
A fly in flight supplies us with the note "F",
a humble bee "C", and so on.
So it's not really music but it is
(fantasy and reality) The massed ranks of the Blackstone
military band made exactly the right cacophony.
Even now I relish the old time inanities when they're
revived on the radio, for they recall the lost illusions
and optimisms of their initial ululations -50 year
old punks 90 year old teds dead hippies Erich Zann's
viol E Major has a quality all its own harsh,
fierce, and strong -A shout of joy!
The bass captures the neutral grey and the extremes
of white and black, whilst we mortals must confine
ourselves to the more pedestrian inner spectrum.
Primal primary colours. We are the band playing in
front of the funeral parlour,
we are the Arkham hearse's drunken drivers.
The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear
Bergson said that by studying the maps,
pictures, guide books, and plans of Paris,
it is possible to discern the weight of monuments,
the height of statues, the distance between landmarks,
and the like, but that any amount of such contemplative
visualisation is vastly inferior to a ten minute walk
along one of the great city's magnificent boulevards.
I have been to Paris in company with Poe in a dream.
If I were to think of a name of a band,
Rudimentary Peni would be the last thing I'd come up
with, and if I did I'd probably dismiss it immediately.
But some people have decided to call themselves precisely
that... And the Peni, as I'm sure you've all realised
by now, were an ancient hill tribe hailing from what
is now Shipley Yorkshire, who defeated the Roman legions
at the notable battle in I think 53BC -what a name
to be lumbered with. O well,
it's their decision -what's in a name Ravenscroft?
Rudimentary, my dear Peni.
I take all the noises you made in the world,
eat them -spew them regurgitate them- excrete them
- bury them - shoot them off to the stars Thunderous
music hemispherical cosmic temple - executor of extraordinary
proficiency 'pon the forte oddest pitch gusting turbulence
ye gods I've penned tri-tones.
I must be away to confession And I died singing this song