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1.
THE MISTS OF ALGIERS Are you still standing, you who were chosen? / I’m told you never once flinched when they bid you drink the potion, / that you moved like a Goddess through those temporal explosions / and your Dance was exquisite – every reckless motion / Fall down before her, down on your knees / Lay low your offering of bakhoor & lilies / Show her your breastplate, the holes made by spears, but don’t raise your gaze on the Mists of Algiers / How precious your eyelids, tattooed in kohl – Forged where the voice rings the smoldering soul. / I have faith that you’ll transcend the poison in your bowl / And rise above all you’ve seen down in that hole. /…The phases of the moon move through the spheres / Don’t raise your gaze on the silhouettes of Algiers / All I thought I was & all I thought I knew / Now turns to ash & dust – it’s never felt so true / And the amrit floods the tongue, washes down over my chest / I’ve come through the furnace untouched, and passed the test /…humble your gaze on the Mists of Algiers.
2.
ANCIENT CHAINS Don’t show me your false king, your tabernacle, your religion / Don’t show me your wedding ring or your much-applauded vision / Don’t show me your veil of tears or the horses that you stole – Reveal to me your Mystery; I wanna see your Soul!/ Oh! Let us break these Ancient Chains! / Don’t show me your master’s house; don’t show me your silver tongue / Don’t show me your silken blouse or the medals that you’ve won / Don’t show me your dwelling place; if it’s a palace or some black hole / Reveal to me your Mystery; I wanna see your Soul!/ Don’t show me your unfurled flag, materialistic pride / Don’t show me your burning rags or the blinders on your eyes / Don’t show me your password, decoder ring, manifesto - Reveal to me your Mystery; I wanna see your Soul!/ Don’t show me your chosen one, your existential angst / Don’t show me your father’s gun, his armies & his banks / Don’t show me your cryptic plans, apocrypha & scrolls – All I wanna see’s your Mystery; I wanna climb inside your Soul! / Don’t show me your Don Juan, Mata Hare, Hollywood / Don’t show me the empty hall where once your heroes stood / Don’t show me some false paradise or the Way of a Thousand Holes / Reveal to me your Mystery; I wanna see your Soul!/ Don’t show me your secret map or your photogenic past / Don’t show me your lashed back with its bureaucratic dance / Don’t show me your credit card, relics, bones & hidden gold / Open to me your Mystery; Open up to me your Soul!...
3.
THE LAST ILLUMINATION (The Ghost of Arthur Rimbaud) The coronets are raised, echo on the Pantheon walls / The strange world is praised in the clarion call / The Queen ascends her throne as you reach for the Unknown / And all the stars dissolve on your tongue / Who stole this Heart? Who tore it from its home? / There in the Shadows of the Last Illumination / Stands the Ghost of Arthur Rimbaud / The women with their garlands sing Priez Pour Lui / Mourning from Charleville to Marseilles / He longed to be free, to be one with the Sea / But in Cours d’ Orleans they forged his chains / The dancers astound us, blossoms in their hair / Delirium surrounds us, the Abyssinian air / The broken are endowed with will, the vile are made fair / The empty of heart are filled and the thieves offer their share / My father & mother were holy & wild / They slept beside the fire & on the ground they bore this child / I was nursed on the Legends, the mandolin & horn / Never kneeled to nothing save the Inconceivable Form…
4.
THE WHITE PEACOCK CRIES I arrived in moonlight from Macedonia, maybe a thousand years ago – who’s to say? / I wove sheep’s wool for the tribes of Anatolia / Still my chest lies open to the ice & the rain / We dined on carob & figs ‘neath the poplars – spanakopita, rice & great rounds of cheese / You can purchase Paradise, they said, for a few drachmas – But I’ll barter entry on the price of my dreams / Behind each tender, sentient creature / We encounter in that old olive grove / Where the moonlight grows white on those features / A secret is hidden deep beneath the soul / What can be said of misfortune’s strengthening riches? / My moustache drenched in dark wine & tears / The Heart torn & sewn up with stitches / Left to exile on the lonely road to Algiers / And the fires are set in the bloodstream / And the voices knot up deep in the chest / For those giants from the sea and those holy libertines / Let us suckle now at the Great Mother’s universal breast / Behind each tender, sentient creature / We encounter in that old olive grove / Where the moonlight grows white on those features / Within all matter some story longs to be told / Like an Amazon she rises from the ocean / Foam like white skirts hiked high on her thighs / She sways, gleaming, with the most graceful motions / The moon pours down like milk as the white peacock cries / We think we know the tale, the old story / At every turn we bellow it out loud / I want a deathless form of poetry / Unwound & unveiled of its sorrowful shroud…
5.
MY CROOKED TRUMPET My dear anchorites of sorrow, my anchorites of grief / I offer yet another song to tear apart with your teeth / I’ll lay it on your altar, I’ll nail it to your door / Are you there, are you listening, are you keeping score? / I raise my Crooked Trumpet as Civilization burns / And I’ll gather all the ashes & seal them in this urn / I raise my Crooked Trumpet to the tortured & the blest / Like some most demented hero – I bow & strike my chest / O they found me in the mansions of those Andalusian kings / Bound up in fear & passions & other useless things / And there before the High Court, I told them stories of your Grace, your Beauty & your Wonder / There was not a dry eye left in the place! / I laid down with Sophia Loren, and Brigitte Bardot too / Check your calendars, my friends, I might have even laid down with you / I appreciate the affection, present in that boogaloo / But somehow I’m still in that Coliseum tonight, blowin’ this horn ‘til I’m blue! / Abandon your false credentials, my friends, abandon your synthetic hope / Don’t try to wash that stain from your hands, you’ll never find that much soap / Don’t blame some distant “other” for the blood upon this ground / Don’t kid yourself, brother – There’s enough blood to go around… / I do not presume to teach or instruct here, Nor to light your way with some kind of torch / What I offer, I offer from worker to worker – a gift between the burned & the scorched…
6.
MAKE FOR ME A MASK Make for me a Mask, one of camphorwood & jade / The kind that might be cast to take the breath away / Make for me a Mask to conceal these scars I wear / To incinerate the past and avert the cruel stare / I said Make for me a Mask / Cover this anomaly / Descend unto this task / Obscure this vague monstrosity / Make for me a Mask of that strange Victorian kind / One that makes the witness dance, or weep or want to go blind / Make for me a Mask that makes the people strong / That shows them how to survive on nothing but a song / I said Make for me a Mask to conceal me from the Law / To annihilate the past, make it from a jackal’s jaw! / Make for me a Mask – I beg your mythic intercession / Lock away my face at last against the world’s transgressions / Make for me a Mask – to hide me from their eyes / I’ll wear it when I fast for you & dance the Fool’s Surprise / I said Make for me a Mask, inscribed, encrypted and rough / Lead me from this path, have I yet done enough? / …I went alone to the misty garden, to the place where I often ask / Upon the waters, I heard her tender Voice / “It is not for you to wear the Mask…”
7.
THE WATERS RISE Somebody cold & cruel had littered the landscape / Streets all strewn with bruised, embittered hearts / Somebody broke the rules with a vicious handshake / Dreams ruined with a fuse & a single spark / Lies were sold by bankers / slyly told by kings / Traded brazenly by corporate spies / Somebody cold & cruel had littered the landscape – It’s no surprise, the waters rise / Look at ‘em – broken, abused, bleedin’ & battered – Marooned on the corner of Greed & Denial / Like they never counted, they never even once mattered / On that street where the poor are decried & defiled / But you, you don’t pay taxes, you hide it all offshore / Brandishing your axes & taking out lives / Look at ‘em – broken, abused, bleedin’ & battered – It’s no surprise, the waters rise / Pontchartrain, San Juan or Canal – Oh, you won’t look anyhow / Your hired liars got the press all choked & cloned / The only “jobs” you create make kids into uniformed killers far away / Then you throw ‘em to the dogs in the street like mutilated bones / The Fahrenheit of the seas, climbin’ by alarmin’ degrees / Bodies’ll float in the subways, above Wall Street ominous skies / Pontchartrain, San Juan or Canal – Oh, you won’t look anyhow / It’s no surprise, the waters rise / A mother wailed just like some wounded animal / Bound her babe high upon a telephone pole / Fell into silence as the swirling tomb surrounded her / Kept her eye on the child as she, herself, was swallowed whole / D.C. was silent, blind – no orders given or signed / As if no one’d notice or be more the wise / But a mother wailed just like some wounded animal… / It’s no surprise, the waters rise…
8.
THE KNOT OF THE HEART Nineveh & Babylon, Knossos & Thebes / I even bled for you among the Byzantines / Life after life, dream after dream – How is it these eyes still can’t see? / Take wing, banish tears / Light the torch, confound the seers / This gate opens only once every hundred years / Unbind the Knot of the Heart, Unwind the Knot of the Heart… / I was left blind by the caravans / Still I sang your song, I did your dance / And I awoke to these alien tattoos on my hands / Jade earrings, bangled beads / Your bronze bracelets all agleam / Like silver stars on a mirrored sea – Lay down with me / These bodies arise, walk through dreams / So many claim that they know what it means! / I came here for Love, to bear those beams– Bow down with me …
9.
BOUGHT THIS SHIRT IN PARIS (VERSION TWO) I bought this Shirt in Paris / On the old Champs-Elysees / From a guy with one arm / Wearing a navy blue beret / I give the man a dollar / & he danced with some wild poodle dogs / Then I put this Shirt on my naked back / & went to see Mildred & Maude / I showed my Shirt to Mildred / I showed my Shirt to Maude / I showed my Shirt to an old blind cow / Down where they keep the hogs / Soon everyone was speaking in tongues / And bitin’ poison snakes clean through / In this modern complex society / There’s no end to what a new Shirt can do / I took my Shirt to a mental place & fixed a broken man’s head / Then me & my Shirt went down to the morgue & raised some people from the dead / Fed the poor, fixed the garage door / & made everybody good in bed / Then we all went down to Albert Camus’ house, before the Plague arrived, you know, & then we just fled / Now, I wasn’t born for tinsel town awards / Nor to compete with strangers or peers / I wasn’t born to dazzle the hordes – They’d cannibalize my Shirt with their leers / Who are these so-called “judges” with their cellophane titles? / I have no use for show-biz sneers / nor their ‘murican Idols…
10.
THE SENTINEL WAITS Black crows & roans come out of the West / To drink from the Rose that glows in the chest / But he won’t make his slumber; he’ll not bow to rest / Outside those most ancient gates / In silence the Sentinel waits / Malachite eyes in a dolorous gaze / Stare past the world’s labyrinthine maze / They’ve seen kingdoms rise up & empires razed; / Love torn from the hands of the Fates / In silence the Sentinel waits / All your pleasure & pain, your loss & your gain – A thousand cities burn down / All your praise & your blame, your disgrace & your fame – Throw your scepter to the ground / And walk away from that crown…/ Black crows & roans arrive in the night / To drink of the Rose that grows from his side / And he offers his mouth that its song might suffice / To open those most ancient gates / In silence the Sentinel waits / Arise, arise, dear maiden, from sleep / The Sentinel watches from his stony keep / The roots grow upon him & curl ‘bout his feet / He longs to be seen – his True Face / In silence the Sentinel waits…
11.
KNEEL, CONQUISTADOR Kneel, Conquistador, let the flames rise up from your Heart! / There is nothing to conquer here on this charnel ground floor / Kneel, Conquistador, let the flames rise up from your Heart! / That sword cannot serve you anymore / They bound you in irons and fed you on glory / You were just a boy, where have we heard this story? (Shame! Mortal chains!) / They conscripted the poor, smeared blood on your door / Promised you gold & slaves & more. (Shame! Mortal chains!) / They sent you away from Valencia’s shores / Said, “Kill everything that we deplore!” (Shame! Mortal chains!) / So you followed the rules, you obeyed their orders / And the innocent were drawn & quartered. (Shame! Mortal chains!) / Why are you killin’ for what do you die? / Merchants & brokers pile skulls on high (Shame! Mortal chains!) / While back at the palace the profits rise / They don’t care ‘bout the ghosts in your eyes. (Shame! Mortal chains!) / Where are the Elders? Where are the Kings? / Where are the ones who’re supposed to teach you ‘bout these things? (Shame! Mortal chains!) / They’re kissing the ring on some Inquisitor’s hand / They don’t give a damn whether you fall or stand (Shame! Mortal chains!) / There’s blood on your face, there’s blood on your hands / There’s blood all over that ancient land. (Shame! Mortal chains!) / Throw down your sword & lift up your soul – It’s not too late to rise up & say No! / … It is only yourself you must conquer here at last /…This sword cannot serve you, it never has…
12.
I Will Bend 05:41
I WILL BEND In the silence before dawn, where the angels make their stand / I lie in wait & long for your hand / In the House of Humility, such a poor servant am I / But for thee, I will bend / And if these hands will serve, let them serve / If this heart should break or mend / And if this mouth might sing, let it sing – For thee I will bend / I will bend to thee, I will bend to thee / If it pleases thee, I will bend / I will bend to thee, I will bend to thee / If it pleases thee, I will bend / Strip me of all arrogance, take from me this cloak / That conceals the perfect innocence of which the Ancients spoke / I will kneel if it pleases thee, or as easily shed this yoke / I will bend to thee, I will bend / Restore me to that Essence from which I have come / O, that I & the Beloved are One / And if I am water, let me fall on thee / And where I am flame, burn me totally / And where I am ether, let me enter thy mouth / I will bend to thee, I will bend / And if…For thee I will bend…
13.
THE LOST SONG The trees in this place seem ominous – Neither beech wood, elm nor larch / Each wand’rer I meet in these eternal streets / Seems to be on some endless death march / I sing out your name, wait for echoes, refrains / They crash on my lips, broken & split / What kinda world did I step into / The night I departed your ship? / O, I rolled ‘cross the face of those waters / For what seemed like one hundred years – Wrecked on those shores, dragged ‘cross the moors / A thousand miles from the comfort of my peers / Somewhere on my bones or underneath the stones / They carved a map in some secret script / What kinda world did I bleed into / The night I stepped off your ship? / With these ears I’ve heard / Madrigals, jigs & concertos / Chants of praise from Phoenicians & Turks / But those sails were unfurled / And I was thrown from this world / It’s your Lost Song they blessed & they cursed / And I’m stranded for better or worse / It’s that Lost Song they blessed & they cursed…/ There are monsters that call forth my agonies / Monsters of gross misbelief / They groan & they gasp on the perilous path / And make claims on the songs ‘neath my teeth / O, I’m sinking & I’m caught in this whirlpool of thoughts / Of you stepping out of your slip / Into what kinda mad realm did I fall from the helm / The night I fell from your ship?
14.
PLAGUE IN THE CITY He was a thief, they punished him for stealing – In the tower’s shadow they cut off his hands / In the street a red-haired actress was acting & a vendor with black eyes sold blood oranges / The Daughters of Voodoo in their bright bandannas / Were casting lots in the dirt / And Mad Louisa at the gates of the market was pretending not to hear the soldier’s dirty words / Antelope priests circled the village led by the Bishop of Antioch / The Cup Bearer looked ill but nobody noticed as he took a sip from the golden cup / “Papa, don’t go!” shouted the orphan girl as she spotted a man on a gray dapple mare / But he didn’t hear her, he had his mind on the world / He was going to buy some hunting dogs at the fair / There’s a Plague in the City / I hear the sound of bells in the streets / This is no place for Gypsies / Make haste my Love – Let us flee! / There was a young minstrel with a voice like honey / On the cathedral stairs he was eating some fruit / When a Japanese woman came by in a buggy / She said, “O-Momo, May I play your ivory flute?” / The Spaniard laughed three times, gave his horse to the squire / He took off his armor & threw it to the street / He was still laughing when he put his sword to the blacksmith’s fire / And he pointed to the punctured holes in his hands & feet / Snake Dancers at the Blue Flute Altar / Were feasting on squash & sweet melon / One of them claimed the Earth for the Creator / Her gaze was fixed on the flight of the snowy heron / “Papa, don’t go!” shouted the orphan girl / To a nervous man standing in front of the jail / He grasped the pentangle round his neck most desperately as he was tempted with still another mug of ale /...Three Mystical Sisters were bathing at the well / While white-haired monkeys ran circles in the dust / Valiant women all, their eyes burned of Wisdom / As they watched the monkeys spin like chariots / Night fell like a mantle on the towered city / Rumors of cannibalism spread through the dark / Slaves with burning torches set fire to the prison / For inside the Plague had left its merciless mark /…An angel with a twisted wing shouted a warning / His words like a trumpet blast loud & true / They took him alive & showed him no mercy / They live in the dark & know not what they do / The Mystical Sisters, unashamed & naked / drew magical pictures in the air / While the orphan girl went in search of the minstrel / She saw no one at the cathedral stairs /…“Papa, don’t go!” a third time she cried / To an African bard with a ring in his ear / As a woman in terror dove from a balcony / She couldn’t bear her reflection in the empty mirror / Stampeding horses ran through the temple / A phoenix flew over the dome / And a thief with no hands turned away in his agony / As an Egyptian slave set the torch to his home…
15.
ALL WILL BE REVEALED We were down in that cave underground / We were down where Odysseus went to drown / And we were there when Hanuman burned down that whole illusory town / Cryin’ out All Will Be Revealed! /…Remember when we gave up our place on that strange ark? / And the clowns around us just hissed & barked? / But one holy fool tore his chest & opened up his Heart /… Blows come, without warning, from behind – Your Soul is dragged through the mud! / Only this morning you lost your mind – Was that some kind of sign? / We carried that nameless soldier’s broken corpse / And tied him upright on his pathetic horse / The corpse began to weep / And the horse began to speak /…Maria Magdalena, of whom the enlightened Coptics boast / Walked barefoot & mute, on thorns, from coast to coast / Singin’ my songs & bearin’ my post / For all of those acolytes, devas & ghosts / Singin’ out, All Will Be Revealed...

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released December 7, 2020

VOICES IN THE HALL:
John Terlazzo – vocals, guitar, Indian harmonium
Kristina Machusick – vocals, flutes & recorders
Paul Wegmann – vocals, lead guitars & bass
With:
Karen Heeter – cello
Beebe Frazer – French horn
Rick Terlazzo – organ
Roy Frush – drums
And Erroneous Bosch & Esme Witz-Lovensqualor – special guest choral vocalists on My Crooked Trumpet

Produced by Doug Smith & John Terlazzo
Recorded by Doug Smith at Shab Row Recording, Frederick, MD. With engineering assistance by Paul Wegmann.
Songs mixed by Doug Smith, John Terlazzo, Kristina Machusick and Paul Wegmann

All Songs written by John Terlazzo,
Except Bought This Shirt in Paris (Version Two); lyrics by John Terlazzo, music by Steve Seyler
All Songs copyright 2019 by John Terlazzo, Published by Crooked Trumpet Music

Paintings by John Terlazzo, Art layout by Bill Mathis
Photo of John by Doug Smith, Photos of Kristina & Paul by Michael Statler, CD label photo by Cindy Thoman-Terlazzo

For Nevia and Anneliese - May all chains dissolve at your every turn.

“We are put on Earth for a little space that we might learn to bear the beams of Love”. – William Blake

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John Terlazzo & Voices in the Hall York, Pennsylvania

Voices In The Hall: Songwriter / Poet John Terlazzo on vocals, guitar, Indian harmonium, Kristina Machusick on vocals, flute, recorders & Paul Wegmann on vocals, lead guitars. Together
they have become one moving, breathing creature, offering up a rich array of "Modern Surrealist Gypsy Folk", & described as "Marc Chagall gone aural" and "Leonard Cohen meets Rumi".
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