Protest Song – Page 3 – George Blamey-Steeden

ONCE I WAS A UNICORN

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA ‘Sun Day, Sunday’ by Zoolon

I’m taking a short break from blogging. A working break as I’ve a bespoke new business website project to sort and a mass of other things to do, so rather than just sit here dripping on about the pressure I’m under I figure I’d get it all done. I’ll be back in a couple of weeks. I’ll catch up on your posts then. Be good, and if you can’t be good, don’t be. See you soon – for now a few words and some music.

Once I was a unicorn

Missed out on Noah’s final cut

Got drowned and born again for no good reason

Back on the city streets every entrance door was shut

I’d survived the deep dark, death wish waters

Though I couldn’t bring myself to say ‘Amen’

One step forward, two steps back

‘I’ll see you someday, as and when’

But you, you climbed the highest mountain

Damaged, you had to leave me at first base

Was it really an avalanche that ate you?

When you went missing, lost forever without a trace

I’ll leave you with a couple of songs that have been picking up hits on ReverbNation recently. I hope you enjoy.

First a ‘gentle protest’ type number from my Dream Rescuer album called ‘Ticking Clock’;

Next, ‘Silent Films’ from the Rainbows End album. It wasn’t getting many hits for ages now it is. Odd.

If you’re interested in purchasing my work you’ll find it all at Bandcamp, below;

NO ROOMS, NO ROOF

tv3 ‘The Allegory of The Night’ by Zoolon

A new lyric about an important subject. It’s themed on the homeless crisis in the UK that’s getting worse every day. The song is near the recording stage, but for now here’s just the raw words – not a poem, I stress – I’m still playing around with.

JUST AROUND THE CORNER

In the underpass of squalor, a starving babe

Wrapped up in this alleged great Union’s flag

Mother’s got no money, no place she can call home

She keeps her kid warm, takes another drag

Dad’s out fixing up somewhere

Any old place, he don’t care

He cracks a joke, snorts more coke

Says life’s unfair

They’re just around the corner

I think that I should warn yer

They’re just around the corner from here

A made redundant teacher, an old defrocked sicko preacher

Some feral kid lost and running free

An old man who deserves better, a discarded used French letter

A long forgotten war zone amputee

In the underpass of sorrow

They’ll all be back tomorrow

While we just turn a blind eye

You and me

They’re just around the corner

I think that I should warn yer

They’re just around the corner from here

“Whatever makes them tick is not our problem”

“We don’t give a shit that they’re lonesome”

“Whatever makes them like it not down to us”

Really? Did I really hear you say that?

You’d give more sympathy to a stray cat

So you’d rather stuff your fat face than make a fuss?

It’s good that I don’t know yer

So good that I don’t know yer

‘Cause if I did I’d make you disappear

They’re just around the corner

I think that I should warn yer

They’re just around the corner from here

Some music, an instrumental that hopefully fits the mood of today’s post, ‘Time Out’ from my Dream Rescuer album;

On the subject of homelessness, the great American lyricist, Paul Simon, says it much better than me. By the way there’s some magic artwork on this vid;

STINGING NETTLES, BOMBS & A CAGE

st james sized

‘The Bits the Bomb Left Behind’ by Zoolon

I’m cursed with allergies to pollen and dust. I do all the right things, take Loratadine tablets, live in sunglasses 24/7, stuff Vaseline up my nose, encase all the bedding. Stuff like that. Nothing works. This time of the year when pollen levels are off the scale, I’m the bloke sneezing for England you all try to avoid. Lately I’ve even given up on the idea of driving my car because my eyes stream so bad. A bit like a tap someone forgot to turn off. So, you’ll get my drift when I say I’ll try almost anything to cure this problem. Note the ‘almost’.

The other day, a mate says that he knows how to cure the pollen allergy in less than a week. I told him to talk some more. He says, “Stinging nettles.” I say, “And?” He says, “You have to sting yourself everyday for a week and that’s you sorted.” I say, “How come you know all this?” He says, “I forgot, but it’s true. Honest.”

I had a good think, then asked him, “What part of me do I have to sting?” He says, “F**k knows.” Hardly helpful. Mission aborted before it even started.

Anyway. ‘Bombs’. The pic above is of a WW2 bombed out church – called St James’s Church, it’s in the middle of the town where I live. It had stood since Anglo-Saxon times until the bomb landed on it. After the war, the little plaque I found on the wall says that the town council wanted to knock the rest of the place down and build on it. The local’s protested. The local’s won, and now it’s a monument. I don’t do religion personally, but respect the beliefs of others – we share the same values, more or less – and believe we’d all agree that the local’s did the right thing. They froze time. Kept memories safe. Here’s another shot of the place.

st james sized2

‘The Path the Ghost Walks’

Another thing. I’d like to thank the anonymous person who wrote a great review for my book on Amazon UK. If it’s one of you kind people out there, then please know that I’m grateful. Here’s the link THE WORDS & THOUGHTS OF A DYSLEXIC MUSICIAN

A few words;

THE HERE & NOW

A little kid crying in a metal cage

Poor girl’s not even two years of age

Wrong, right side of centre ground morons in a rage

Heartless F Wit’s reading off the wrong page

The big man’s laughing his head off backstage

A new Hitler’s come of age?

Lastly, some music. A number I made from 2016 called, ‘Shout At Newsreels’. I guess you’d call it a protest song. Hope you like it;

AN AFTERMATH & A PHOBIA

george z
When I discovered it in the fridge I thought, ‘Brilliant, it may look like it’s been in the hands of a sculptor whose polished it a bit, but it’s a proper French croissant and it’s mine all mine’. The first clue that it wasn’t a croissant came when I picked it up and it weighed about what 20 sacks of croissants would weigh. So odd. The thing was, apart from the weight, there was also the smell – nothing like the magical scent of a croissant. I’ve checked it out and it’s called Oscypek (that word reads like it’s a kind of wild bird that has a habit of biting Australians), a surreal smoked cheese made of salted sheep milk from the Tatra Mountains of Poland. As cheese goes I’m sure it’s a really great cheese yet looking at it worries me. It has a certain presence that makes me uncomfortable. Odder, odd. Later a mate told me I must have ‘Taurophobia’. I hadn’t a clue what that was but found out it’s a fear of cheese. I hope not as my dinner tonight is a favourite of mine, macaroni cheese.

cheese

Anyway, I’ve been writing about turning ‘poems into songs’ recently (if you’re interested, see the link at the top of the page). I thought I’d reverse the process and try to convert one of my own lyrics to poetry and give it a new title;

THE AFTERMATH OF THE ‘BIG ONE’

Stars instead of streetlights

Two moons instead of one

Touch the edge of heaven

Give breath to a dying Sun

After the blaze of glory

Comes the flickering light

What’s left has no shadow

No vultures in flight

Take off this mask

See how it burns

In the game of Russian roulette

A weapon now rests at your temple,

Your time on the trigger just drags

Take off this mask

See how it burns

Give breath to a dying Sun

Don’t blink, smile or hide

Please, whatever you are or might have been

Or maybe will be, maybe not, just

Give breath to a dying Sun

Like I’ve always said, writing a poem is harder than writing a lyric! Music time. Here’s a short collection of my songs just posted on ReverbNation. I’m testing ReverbNation out in terms of another promotion source for my stuff. I’ll see how it goes. I hope you enjoy listening.

If you want to buy either of my two latest albums, ‘Rainbows End’ or ‘Dream Rescuer’ the link is via the cover art on this page.

ZOOLON’S CHRISTMAS PRESENT FOR ONE & ALL

christmas1

(the artist looks to be Olbingski – I think)

Since ‘Zoolon’ being on social media I’ve had quite a few requests from people asking if ‘ERASING THE 38TH’ is available to download. I’ve never included it in any of my albums previously. I’ve posted the song on this blog before so some of you will know it already.

It’s an experimental song and it deals with the potential for another stupid war in as surreal a style as I could make it. At the time I composed it that potential was just flexing its muscles a bit. Right now, that potential has grown like a cancer. In this season of traditional worldwide goodwill hopefully the subliminal effect will be that that same potential will at least go into remission.

As of now the song is available to download from my Soundcloud for FREE; no strings attached. All you have to do is simply go to the link below, hit the ‘More’ button (it’s next to ‘Share’ button) and on the drop box you’ll see ‘Download’. Hit that and it’s done. I hope you enjoy.

Finally, whatever your code, creed or take on all things, I wish everyone of you a

HAPPY FESTIVE SEASON

https://soundcloud.com/zoolon/erasing-the-38th

Should anyone need to get a partner or friend a last-minute gift, below is the link to my new album ‘Rainbows End’ on Bandcamp. It’s just got its first great review there. You can listen before you buy. It costs £4 (or equivalent in other currencies) and can be gifted via the recipient’s email address.