Mondo p. Khan

More Evidence

pkhan — Sun, 06 May 2012 00:02:12 +0000

the truth:

inside the truth:

Angel

pkhan — Sat, 05 May 2012 22:27:31 +0000

From what the natives tell me, even if you made it to Texas, there were perils. Either that’s true or they are seriously trying to cover something up.

P.S., Pain

Sacred Angel, cigarette stained,
You look so pretty in the dirty city
Making friends with Pain
But Pain is always a stranger

He’s coming round every corner
Headlights getting warmer
Sticking out like a foreigner
Pain is always a stranger

Torn up ~~barby doll~~ baby, wrapped in grace
You’re loving life from the other side
Flying high with Pain

Take off your ring
Strap on your wings
He will shout from above
Somebody owes him love
He will laugh at you
Until he’s blue
That is what he’ll do
Because Pain is always a stranger.

Bottle Caps

pkhan — Sat, 05 May 2012 22:24:24 +0000

There was a bar or honkey-tonk here at one time, you can still see where the ground is charred, it must have burned all the way to the ground.

The chinaman says he got a table made of bottle caps out of here.

Bottle Bottoms

Just empty the bottle. Spin it on it’s side. Kiss it on the lips. Stick your finger deep inside. Who’s it gonna pick this time?

The bottom of the bottle’s turning water to wine for me. The best things in life are cheap.

Tear off the labels. Tear off the warning signs. Just empty the bottles. Pile ‘em up (pile ‘em up, pile em up) and let them shine.

Tejas

pkhan — Sat, 05 May 2012 22:17:44 +0000

Some of these people dreamed of escape. In their songs, they often spoke longingly of a pure land of fire, where everything is remembered.

Texas

A blue horizon’s all you see
Far cities fall below the sea
A broken leaf blows
Through your attic window
You light a cigarette
And dream about lost continents
And Texas
Will you ever see Texas?

In the morning at the end of time,
There’s cream beneath the quiet lights
Of Texas,
Will you ever see Texas?

When the lifeboats have all passed
You’ll follow on the ancient paths
To Texas
Will you ever see Texas?

Translucent armies flow behind you
Paper bridges wash away
Long red dresses and old blue suits
Fall beneath the Milky Waves
Of Texas
Will you ever see Texas?

Sad Ship

pkhan — Sat, 05 May 2012 22:13:09 +0000

Once upon a time, there was a man who took all the broken guitars, made a sailboat from them, and sailed away. Into the sky.

(instrumetnal demo)

I’ve Heard Of Ivy

pkhan — Wed, 06 Apr 2011 23:19:52 +0000

And now I’m not sure why I want to find it and go there now at all. Not at all, not really much at all.

Take Six Hundred and Sixty Six

pkhan — Wed, 06 Apr 2011 23:09:44 +0000

Just kidding. There’s that forlorn man in the wood again, staring at the new brush, walking in the same circles, am I waiting there, half inside my past, my future… the distinctions melt with the winter’s last snow and I’d better check my steps, make sure they were what I thought they were…

Flakes:

Two Pylons and Nothing In Between

pkhan — Wed, 06 Apr 2011 22:54:12 +0000

There was power here at one time but there’s nothing now. All of it was lost in a flood some time ago, or so I am told. Just the old rusted pylons. I found an old light bulb that may or may not work.

Overload:

The Prince of the Moon

pkhan — Wed, 06 Apr 2011 22:37:47 +0000

For every prince there’s a princess, or at least that’s what they told him. They never said it’d be the one you wanted. No wonder this letter was never sent.

Princess:

He sounds all choked up, kind of hoarse. You gotta be careful sitting around outside.

The Ancient Texts

pkhan — Wed, 06 Apr 2011 22:23:39 +0000

Burn them, said the preacher man, but someone laid these screeds to rest inside an old tire swing, covered up with old vines.

overload

overload
the lines are down
overload
the dam is blown

theres a dark side to the sky
but there is a light side too
which side are you betting on
what are you gonna do

overload
the lines are down
overload
the dam is blown

there really is no end
when youre listening to the wind
what’s it coming to?
when is this thing blowing through?

overload
the lines are down
overload
the dam is blown

we’re racing through the hours
between conflicting powers
it’s hard to win this game
maybe the wind’s to blame
but if i doubt,
you will doubt
you wont know to hear my shout

overload
the lines are down
overload
the dam is blown

overload
the lines are down
overload
the waters brown

princess

it’s a million years
since you been around
i saw you walking last spring
in your white velvet gown
i saw you in the hothouse
putting roses on ice
but princess
who you sleeping with tonight

hey princess who you sleeping with tonight
as i sit here with my can of warm beer
making love to the moonlight

you tell me the things
that i cant forget
your pockets are full of…
let me guess
you long for that hothouse
but you look to the sky
hey princess
who you sleeping with tonight

hey princess who you sleeping with tonight
as i sit here with my can of warm beer
making love to the moonlight

hey little princess
you forgot where you came from
where northern lights shine
on rivers of wine
and you banged your favorite drum
alone on the playground
with your feet on fire
you dont belong in that hothouse
you should grow wild

hey princess who you sleeping with tonight
as i sit here with my can of warm beer
making love to the moonlight

were you cultivated or did you grow wild?

flakes

i’ll remember you as i knew you last winter
you came out of nowhere
snowflakes fell like headless angels
and they melted in your hair

i still feel you shiver in the night
like a dream i never realized
it’s torture just to know that you’re not mine

livings free
but livings lost to time
and so are we
as alive as any flakes in the fire

we’ll burn to be what we dream of
we’re hidden in the fire
if I can stand the heat of your hand
we’ll climb on heaven’s pyre

livings free
but livings lost to time
and so are we
as alive as any flakes in the fire

ivy dell

i was born in ivy
destined to die
close to the old treeline
on the end of my vine
so i packed my bags baby
and stepped out for a look
over the pines, the long long pines
over mountains I flew

i knew that i made one big mistake
when i thought things would work out so well
i knew that i made on big mistake
the day i left ivy dell

ivy still winds
through the hills of my mind
i call across mountains
and hear my own name
it says oh baby oh darling
you were born to stay
how can you leave me this way?

ivy cradles my head
and creeps towards my heart
with the lean of the willow tree
she tears it apart
she shuts my eyes, baby
and wraps up my hands
like the wind from a cloud
she carries me back

Living In A Ghost Town

pkhan — Fri, 18 Mar 2011 19:51:59 +0000

This isn’t Ivy, this is some kind of ghost town, and every ghost seems to have an opinion about the way it’s been kept up. If I hear that crazy old lady in the spectacles bitch at me one more time about her damn broken windows, I won’t even pretend to feed her. I didn’t come all this way to be a tinker to the undead, and it’s a waste of good fried noodles regardless.

living in your heart

you know its hard
living in your heart
living in your heart

its no dream house we live in
the walls of your heart are tilting
sometimes its too dark for seeing
maybe this whole heart is broken

and when the water drips in
could be the roof is leaking
could be tears you cant fence in
maybe this whole heart is broken

you know its hard
living in your heart
living in your heart

and whem the sun keeps shining
through falling good intentions
theres things that we never mention
maybe this whole heart is broken

you know its hard
living in your heart
living in your heart

its hard to sleep
in the rain and the heat
but there you are beside me
in this house of dreaming
it seems like
your heart is still beating

you know its hard
living in your heart
living in your heart

oh its hard
living in your heart
living in your heart

And the Horse You Rode In On

pkhan — Sun, 27 Feb 2011 23:51:52 +0000

Now we’ve had cars, trucks, trains, and now a horse. That’s what they call progress.

Up There:

Nobody Here is From Here

pkhan — Sun, 27 Feb 2011 23:40:07 +0000

This one dude drove by so fast all I saw was mud flying up.

local boy

i dont want to be a local boy
i dont want to be that dude
i dont want to be a local boy
i dont wanna be like you

im heading home
my wheels are four by four down on the road
im living life
between the lines
to the sound of my radio

i dont want to be a local boy
i dont want to be that dude
i dont want to be a local boy
i dont wanna be like you

the years roll by
I’m drinking every night until the well runs dry
I’ll stay down here
one more year
laying low and gettng high

i dont want to be a local boy
i dont want to be that dude
i dont want to be a local boy
i dont wanna be like you

so just one more
because i cant find my keys or find the door
im hungry now
but I dont know how
and i dont know what for

Gotta get out get out get out get out get out
Put my wheel against a wall
Get out get out get out get out get out
I’ll run my tank on alcohol!

My daddy drank away his legs
A local boy until he hit the dregs
I’m not going out that way
Gotta get out get out get out get out get out
Get out

i dont want to be a local boy
i dont want to be that dude
i dont want to be a local boy
i dont wanna be like you

The Last Train

pkhan — Wed, 23 Feb 2011 23:46:50 +0000

A rush of air. the smell of diesel – a mad eye winking to sleep and a steel dream, the last mile of the last train on the last straight track, and the last free man smiles.

Scattered Leaves

pkhan — Mon, 21 Feb 2011 20:37:36 +0000

death train

baby ill use these hands for work
baby i will work your love
but i wont fold them up to pray
i aint going down that way

you say I’m running on the railway to hell
But I cant hear the whistle howl
or the ringing of the bell

i’m sleeping good on a death train
if you live like a dog, you’ll die on a chain
sleeping good on a death train
rolling on

look at the powdered preacher man
finger pointing right at me
sweatin and stooping in his suit
he just wants to be the one
sleeping next to you

sleeping good on a death train
if you live like a dog, you’ll die on a chain
sleeping good on a death train
rolling on

i’m sleeping good on a death train
if i cant stand tall ill be running in the rain
sleeping good on a death train
rolling on and on again

and i think im going home
and i wonder what its like
and im not crying in this cattle car
just got some smoke in my eyes

you say I’m running on the railway to hell
But I cant hear the whistle howl
or the ringing of the bell

i’m sleeping good on a death train
if you live like a dog, you’ll die on a chain
sleeping good on a death train
rolling on

i’m sleeping good on a death train
if i cant stand tall ill be running in the rain
sleeping good on a death train
rolling on and on again

up there

if you get up there
in the saddle
grab the reins and dont let go
if you get up there
just keep riding
ride until your thrown

if you believe
if you want to be free
if you get up there
you will be

past the treeline
up the hillside
ride until youre gone
just a hoof beat
just a heart beat
and there is no voice but your own

if you believe
if you want to be free
if you get up there
you will be

no more green pasture, there’s only sky
theres only hills to climb

just a hoof beat
just a heart beat
and there is no voice but your own
until there is no voice left but your own

if you believe
if you want to be free
if you get up there
you will be
you will be
you will

Sweet

pkhan — Sun, 20 Feb 2011 23:03:18 +0000

Sweet water dripping from a vine on one day of thaw. I see my reflection in an icy pool and have to wonder, if there were anyone here at all, what they would see.

The heavy tires throw up frost and slush. The light is on in the window, the sign says open.

sweet on me

she’s sweet on me
like honey on bread
she’s sweet on me
sweet in my head

sweet like the sugar
that takes the edge off black coffee
at two in the morning
with the breakfast she brings me

she’s sweet on me
like honey on my bread
she’s sweet on me
sweet in my head

sweet like the syrup
on the edge of my table knife
we’re all alone in the diner
she’s quick and she’s quiet

and I’m just rolling through
I leave it all on the check for you
theres rain on my window
there’s a tape in the deck
the sweetest songs are the best

she’s sweet on me
like honey on my bread
she’s sweet on me
sweet in my head

One More Time…

pkhan — Tue, 30 Mar 2010 20:28:41 +0000

Gold Mine:

Today Your Name is Ana

pkhan — Tue, 16 Mar 2010 18:15:17 +0000

Of course. It’s always about a woman when you get to the root of it. A woman, or lack thereof. And so the boy came to his conclusion.

Ana’s Attic:

And with his lofty reverie of an actual house with an actual person in it, I left him behind as well and continued my search for Ivy.

Oh, I See

pkhan — Tue, 16 Mar 2010 18:10:05 +0000

Oh, I see. Right. I had no idea. Gosh.

And Car Dude continued his tale…

Flat Tires For Sale

pkhan — Tue, 16 Mar 2010 17:40:26 +0000

Not counted among the permanent residents of what these people called ‘Wahoo’ was a young fella who apparently lived out of his 1981 Toyota hatchback. As the car was non-functional and immobile on account of it not having any wheels left, those wheels having been given up some time ago by the young man to pay off debts owed to old Bertha at the nearby diner for ‘food taken and eaten’, I don’t see why he shouldn’t be considered a resident especially since the rednecky dude lived in an RV. Maybe it’s becuase the Chinaman and the Russian said the kid ‘talked funny’. Anyway, the kid began his tale, starting tomorrow and moving back.

World Without Wheels