Gods and Demons: Tom and Steve
On Gods and Demons
Two influentually significant (and statistically insignificant) types of humans walk the earth: demons and gods.
Demons, as the wise man says, "are let loose upon the earth to lower the standards of humanity."
Gods illustrate the glory of art, life and ourselves.
Popularity and fame do not factor into this equation. I have dozens of gods in my life who you'll likely never hear about, who will never have 500,000 Twitter followers or grace the cover of "Us" magazine.
A God: Tom Waits
Not just a musical god, mind you; he's a poet of frightening ability.
Uniquely anachronistic, the man lives outside the boundaries of time and space as we know it. Every cell percusses, fearlessly communicating messages which resonate like all humanity's mamillian love and reptilian fear.
Don't believe me? Try him on for 40 hours (pandora.com | lastfm.com) and let me know.
Black cellophane sky at midnite
A big blue moon with three gold rings
I called Champion to the window
I pointed up above the trees
That’s when I heard my name in a scream
coming from the woods, out there
I let my dog run off the chain
I locked my door real good with a chair
Don’t go into that barn, yea
I said: don’t go into that barn, yea
Everett Lee broke loose again,
it's worse than the time before
Because he’s high on potato and tulip wine
fermented in the muddy rain, of course
A drunken wail, a drunken train
blew through the birdless trees
Oh, you’re alone alright
You're alone alright
How did I know
How did I know
Don’t go into that barn, yea
I said: don’t go into that barn, yea
An old black tree, scratching up the sky
with boney, claw like fingers
A rusty black rake
Digging up the turnips of a muddy cold grey sky
Shiny tooth talons
coiled for grabbing a stranger happening by
And the day went home early
and the sun sank down into the muck of a deep dead sky
Don’t go into that barn, yea
I said: don’t go into that barn, yea
Back since Saginaw Calinda was born,
it's been cotton and soyabeans, tobacco and corn
Behind the porticoed house of a long dead farm
they found the falling down timbers
of a spooky old barn
Out there like a slave ship upside down
Wrecked beneath the waves of grain
When the river is low
they find old bones and
when they plow they always dig up chains
Don’t go into that barn, yea
I said: don’t go into that barn, yea
Did you bury your fire?
Yes sir!
Did you cover your tracks?
Yes sir!
Did you bring your knife?
Yes sir!
Did they see your face?
No sir!
Did the moon see you?
No sir!
Did you go cross the river?
Yes sir!
Did you fix your rake?
Yes sir!
Did you stay down wind?
Yes sir!
Did you hide your gun?
Yes sir!
Did you smuggle your rum?
Yes sir!
I said: how did I know
How did I know
How did I know
A Demon: Steve Jobs
The Steve radiates evil like Kim Jong Il.
