Tuesday, July 7, 2026

Braintree

1.

Never eat from the Braintree
never listen to the hissing serpent
Dancing tongues, flickering tongues
poisoned fruit let it stay hung

2.

You’re not permitted to feed your head
grown-ups all thrown-up say
you should be burning books instead
tear a leaf from the book
Leaves from the Braintree

3.

Yonder down the meadow
rests The Crying Tree
where the lonely virgins dream in sad repose
right by the Scarlet Women
in their barely covered midnight clothes

4.

Persian vestal virgins lie by The Crying Tree
Babylonian whores lie by the other side
sap of murky burgundy blood trickles down
and the whores just laugh while the virgins cry

5.

Stay away from the strychnine orchard
stay away for heaven’s sake
Partake not the juice from the tattooed fruit
Despite the exhortations of the seething snake

6.

Jackals dance in the darkened forest
Ring around the Celtic Cross
never forget to drop 100 yards of sourdough breadcrumbs
perchance you realize that you’re lost

Copyright 2026, Scuzzbuster Music (BMI). All rights reserved.

Thursday, April 30, 2026

Oldboy - New Poetry Album OUT NOW!

Spring is here, and a young man’s fancy turns to poetry, indie poetry, punk poetry slam, darkwave poetry, a dying rose by any other name and all that. Two years after my last audiobook I’m here with the new opus, Oldboy. And as Sir Humphrey Pengallan (Charles Laughton) defiantly sneers, “What are you waiting for? A spectacle? You shall have it!!!” So polish up your spectacles, Andy Seven Ltd. has returned.

Oldboy is my fourth audiobook of poetry, fifteen prose poems that up the ante from previous efforts. While past audiobooks featured poems with more traditional soundscapes, the new work features dark ambient, industrial neofolk mixes and drum and bass rhythm tracks.

All music mixes aside, Oldboy is a wild mosaic of sonnets dedicated to horror films (Sadako, Succubus), Robert Williams-inspired sports sleaze (Demolition Derby, Bantamweight Vs. Flyweight), and a triptych of Southern California gothic (Bougainvillea, California Boyfriend, The LA River).

The title, aside from the movie, comes from my theory that some males are men from the day they were born and always remain men, while others will always be boys, even when they’re pushing their Seventies. Some boys always inhabit an adult form. The same goes for females. Some women will always be young girls no matter how old they age.

Making the transition from punk singing to poetry recital wasn’t a Herculean task. When I sang with my band Trash Can School the most common remark I heard was that my vocals were “monotonous”. Whether I was aware of it or not, the monotony of my vocals probably meant that I chose to recite my lyrics as poetry.

I could make a case for it by saying that singing was never the objective but just reciting my prose. So, in a very loose sense I’ve always performed poetry recitals back in the days of my band and I’ve continued to this day.

Islington High Street was about my all-nighter at Islington Screen on The Green spent fifty years ago watching The Sex Pistols, Buzzcocks and other future superstars like Billy Idol and Siouxsie Sioux. Slumgullion is a piss-take on Willy the Shake’s classic plays, some of my favorites. I love the surrealism of A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

Saints and Sinners was about a real saloon in the heart of sleepy Culver City. Transfigured Night is my surreal take on a dream where I walked through a forest accompanied by mutilated lab test animals. The dream world continues with Succubus, nocturnal eroticism let loose upon the bedroom walls.

Those expecting sermons from the mount taking a political stand will be disappointed, as the only track that shows a political angle at all would be Carrot in The Donkey’s Eye, which criticizes the punishing exploitation of the average worker, the most offensive culprit being factory and warehouse environments. I suppose Smog lies somewhere in social commentary, too.

While I’m on the subject of poetry, what are your favorite movies about poets? We don’t get a lot of cinema space, I see movies about Bukowski, Kerouac, Sylvia Plath, but I’d like to see a film about Anne Sexton or Rod McKuen. Rod McKuen was an awful poet but his life story is utterly fascinating.

My favorite movie about a poet is Orpheus by Jean Cocteau about a popular poet despised by the hipster cognoscenti because his work is too successful. His best friend is a poet so jaded with writing that his next book will be a volume of nothing but empty pages. Doesn't get more existential than that!

But back to Oldboy, ahem: Some poems have been published in the past, i.e. Bantamweight Vs. Flyweight, Succubus, and California Boyfriend were featured in Horror Sleaze Trash. Other poems like Slumgullion, Transfigured Night, and Sadako were included in several Dawn of Darkness witch house compilations, available for listening at The Internet Archive.

Oldboy can be streamed on You Tube, Spotify, Pandora, Apple Music, Amazon Music, or Deezer. Hard media CDs can be purchased at Bandcamp. I’ll merch a few on eBay, too. Friends, Hollywood Babylonians, and countrymen, lend me your ears.

Sunday, November 2, 2025

So You Want To Be A Rock And Roll Bot

I never planned on returning to music. At this late stage of my life the last thing I wanted to do was harbor fantasies of being a big rock star. I deliberated with myself about presenting my poetry in the best way possible, and I knew that producing poetry books was falling down a black hole of obscurity. The success of a Bukowski or Rollins is a one in a million possibility.

Poetry books unfortunately don't attract people, and poets are generally laughed at in the United States, a country that amuses in literary shaming. If Stephen King is the national bard of choice then we're in deep shit.

Poetry readings with music have always fared well, though, from Patti Smith to Gil Scott-Heron to John Cooper Clarke to The Last Poets. I created sonic landscapes to go with my poems, and I enjoyed these crude, primitive recordings. The best testing ground for my work was to post it on SoundCloud, a sort of aural You Tube where you can just check in and listen to anyone's music for free. Like it or not, SoundCloud is one of the best because it doesn't have that Bandcamp "You reading or you buying" vibe about it.

But, but but....SoundCloud has its set of stalkers and sharks like any other site, too. Which brings me to my story (sorry it took so long). Two months ago I posted a poetry track called Smog. It got a few hits and likes, and then I got a message from someone who claimed he was an A and R (Artists and Repertoire) aka talent scout.

The DM went something like this: "Hi Andy, this is John from R****E Records. I stumbled upon your work and was blown away by your talent. We're currently seeking artists to join our roster, and I think you'd be a great fit. Let's explore possibilities. Please share your email address so we can send over more information on our offer".

Okay, I gave him my email, and his response was, "Thank you for your response! The Chairman will reach out to you with additional details about this exciting opportunity. Please check your inbox and kindly respond at your earliest convenience. Also, make sure to follow my SoundCloud page so you can stay updated on our latest opportunities and releases".

So, I got an email from the Chairman at R***E Records, and the first thing I did was look up the label, and lo and behold, this was not only a real label, but one that had serious cutting edge artists on their roster, in fact, I even owned some of these records! Now I was getting excited. If I recorded for these folks I'd be in serious company.

I even did a Wikipedia search on the label and the label CEO listed was the "Chairman".

Okay, here's his email: "Hello, This is L*** M***, CEO of R***e Records. We had a chance to check out your sound, and to be honest there’s a spark there that’s hard to ignore. The rawness, the energy, the originality, it’s the kind of foundation that can go far with the right push.
Our label was built for artists like you: creators who are ready to take what they’ve started and elevate it. We don’t just sign artists, we invest in them, making sure they’ve got the team, the guidance, and the creative freedom to break through in today’s industry.
I’d love to connect and talk about where your music can go from here, and how R****e can be part of that journey". Cool.

I gave him my phone number, but he didn't call. His response went like this: "Hello Andy. Thanks for your interest. I’m excited to connect with you!
To dive deeper into the deal we’re offering, I’d like to arrange a brief meeting via Microsoft Teams. This will give us a chance to review the details, address any questions you might have, and map out the next steps".

So, I met him on MS Teams and he began the conversation with this: "Hello Andy. Welcome to this exciting opportunity! I’m truly looking forward to collaborating with you and supporting your growth with the R***e Records family.
Before we dive in, I want to set clear expectations for how we’ll work together. Due to the high demands of my current schedule, I won’t be available for in-person meetings or calls at this time. For security and documentation purposes, all communication will be conducted here via instant messaging. This allows us to keep everything organized and professional while ensuring we stay focused on your success. I trust that works for you, and I appreciate your flexibility".

If there were no in-person meetings or calls how will anything get done, and where's the personal contact an artist requires? This was getting weird.

So, the CEO ran down the history of the label and offered the following perks for me as an artist, and frankly it sounded incredibly far flung for an avant-garde independent. Dig this:

"What We Offer
• Publishing + Distribution – Seamless global distribution across Spotify, Apple Music, Amazon, and more.
• Financial Support – Funding for equipment, software, studio sessions, and other essentials so you can focus on the art.
• Marketing + Promotion – Strategic campaigns including playlist pitching, digital ads, media exposure, and content creation.
• Creative Freedom – We respect your vision. Our role is to elevate, not control.
• Professional Network Access – Connection with respected producers, engineers, and brand partners to accelerate your career.

Why R***e?
We’re not just a label, we’re a partner. Our focus is authenticity, long-term development, and real relationships. We tailor our approach to your unique goals and sound, making sure your career remains true to your vision".

Now look, I've made records for a lot of indies and none of them can or even want to provide all this shit. "Financial Support"? Bullshit. And don't even talk to me about publishing, the bread and butter of all composers. Once they own your publishing they can do whatever they like with your work. And...by the way, did he even mention my track Smog at all? Or any of the other tracks I posted on SoundCloud.

Quite frankly, this entire rap didn't even sound like a real person, but some AI-generated hustle that no artist would even find believeable. Here's my response to all this fairy tale spininng:

"I see, I already have publishing, so I'm fine there. What I'd like to do is to submit my next album to your label and you can distribute it if you're interested.
I currently have three albums that are available on all streaming services out there, but it would be cool to have my next release on your label". No response.

"Your label attracted me because you lean towards the avant garde - Medeski Martin + Wood, Sex Mob, etc. It's great company. All my records are spoken word with music landscapes, so it's a little off the beaten path for some". No response.

I addressed all the pie in the sky perks he had promsied by saying, "I would probably just hand you an album to release and not ask for any kind of financial advance, so it wouldn't be a huge investment". So I had responded to the Financial Support, Publishing and Recording features I was supposed to be dazzled by. No response.

THE CEO HAD VANISHED

And then returned the next day on MS Teams without contacting me in advance with this strange message:

"Good morning, Andy. For my questions:
Section 1: Introduction + Background
1. Where were you born and raised?
2. What are your hobbies or interests outside of music?
3. What’s the highest level of education you’ve completed? (Include your field of study if applicable.)
4. What typically sparks your creativity or inspires your music?
5. What’s your current employment status?
6. Have you received any music-related education or training (formal or informal)?"

WTF, this guy is insane. What is this ridiculous AI-written shit? Imagine sending this horseshit to PJ Harvey or Bud Powell. Do you really see yourself doing business with an AI-communicating dunce." My hobbies. Employment status"...Poet? Isn't that enough? Ya think? Thank God recording my poetry is just my pastime.

*************

In addition to appearing on poetry compilations it's incredible to participate on some avant-garde music compilations where my poetry can reach a wider audience. Dawn of Darkness from Chile have added my tracks Slumgullion and Transfigured Night to their latest comp, The October Experimental Compilation. You can find the compilation on both ReverbNation or The Internet Archive for free doewnloading. Here's my poem Transfigured Night for your poetry listening.

Friday, August 15, 2025

Your Father Told Lies And Your Mother Kept Secrets

Islington High Street

It was so very long ago
so very far away
it would last until the break of dawn they said
after all it’s banker’s holiday

One year short of Jubilee
Bicentennial summer was too lame for me
A California Yankee in Queen Elizabeth’s court
with catwomen, batwomen and a beautiful dark banshee

Something nicked not borrowed
something black and blue
destroy everything that’s old
we’ll show you the wonder of the new

That old decrepit theatre
became a circus with a purpose
with long goodbyes and tattered hellos
and the ghost of Ivor Novello

Topless girls dance to the Rollers
Kenneth Anger’s on the screen
Jackson Pollock’s army is in formation
like an ancient Roman’s dream

Something nicked not borrowed
something black and blue
destroy everything that’s old
we’ll show you the wonder of the new

The singer knocked out his funny tooth
with an old radio microphone
you can click your heels until they bleed
you’re far, far, far away from home

On Your Feet Or On Your Knees

Everything always started out as something
and something always came from nothing
I used to beat a path to The Pussycat Theater
Sunset 'n Western
it’s a Mexican revival house now
from Traci Lords to the House of Lord

On your feet or on your knees

Same story down Hollywood 'n Cherokee
cops cutting work at The Pussycat that’s a fact
swivel recliner seats
‘n the seats would squeak, rock and strain
Amber Lynn Christy Canyon Ginger Lynn
now it’s an Iglesia De Dios

On your feet or on your knees

They got on their knees on the silver screen
‘n they still get down on their knees
either way what can you say
they still end up catching a disease
Triple XXX rated with your money shot
pass the plate Maria in the name of God

On your feet or on your knees

Transfigured Night

I journeyed through the bleak black forest
It was such a black forest
clouds of black velvet
leaves of purple satin
grass like patent leather
in the cool damp nighttime weather

Dogs, rabbits and cats
mice, monkeys of all kinds and rats
some had their fur shaved
paws, eyes and claws
missing from a scientists’ blade

Animals marched along with me
monkeys swinging through the nocturnal trees
cells were exploding in my blood stream
monkeys shrieked and screamed

I reached into my pockets
there was enough to feed them all
some of them fought and played
I was there for awhile
don’t know how long I stayed

Bless you dear critters
for the lives that you’ve saved
but I’ve got incurable cancer, you see
I’m going to die, anyway

And the rats climbed around me
rabbits hopping round my feet
hamsters started to squeak
all the dogs licked my hands
cats rolled on their backs
and the monkeys flew from the trees

All poetry copyright 2025, Andy Seven Ltd.

Friday, July 18, 2025

If Poets Could Fly They'd Be Pissing On You

Smog

We held hands in the polluted gloom
looks of love over our respirators
there's a sun out there
somewhere
the sun and the stars
know the way
if we can see them through
sheets of brown and gray

Smog, smog, beautiful smog
choke and belching sets you retching
gasping and rasping like The Covid Kid
night time afters
huffing up white cocaine
day time smog
above the fruited plain

I can't see you because of smog
all I see of you are signs
in the form of gray outlines
we can't film today because of smog
the mayor hung himself because of smog
dirty air has you crying
this grimy cloud has no silver lining

Carrot In The Donkey's Eye

Well the wheels keep turning
engines never quit burning
stacks pumping steam
belching out toxic plumes of smoke
when the week's all done
what's left of your dreams

why ask why
it's the carrot in the donkey's eye

Where are my pennies from heaven
you can't sock it
how do you coin it
how do you get it
with hole's burning right through your pocket

why ask why
it's the carrot in the donkey's eye

If you want to feel like a common workhorse
come one come all
and join the exhausted workforce
but the devil has your back
cause you're whoring out for cash

why ask why
it's the carrot in the donkey's eye

Sing for your supper
and you pay the piper
all the well meaning creditors
all the smiling predators will make you a debtor
for the rest of your life

why ask why
it's the carrot in the donkey's eye

Slumgullion

Four witches stirring up
a boiling cauldron
what's that smell
it stinks like hell
tastes like a bowl of old bouillabaisse and rotting onions
could only be slumgullion

Juliet lies dead
and all the birds have fled
the fish lay upside down
love's labour lost all around
spare the dagger childe it's all in fun
just eat the slumgullion

Willie the Shake
made a terrible mistake
as you like it well I don't
Portia and Banquo didn't
eat it for pleasure
they tried to shoot it measure for measure
just say no dear Hamnet son
pray don't try the slumgullion

Well the nights of midsummer
drive jaded pagans to plunder
Titania my Titania
surrendered to Oberon
just for a sip of his enchanted
slumgullion

Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are still dead
but they’re luckier than Yorick
alas poor one just another shrunken head
Ophelia and Cordelia
had as much as they could stand
as Othello mainlined slumgullion
into the veins of his hands

(what a turn up for the books)

All poems Copyright 2025, Andy Seven Ltd.