Scarred Eardrums

Please disrobe
get on the table
the good news is your condition’s stable

Stick the flashlight in your ear
I can see the damage it’s very clear

Eardrums all scarred
shot to hell top to bottom cracked
tommy can you hear me I think your hearing’s all whacked

Scarred from all the lies I’ve heard
endless libel and slander
Exaggerations
renumerations
reprimands incomprehensible explanations
that you want me to gander

Eardrums all scarred
shot to hell top to bottom cracked
tommy can you hear me I think your hearing’s all whacked

Fake excuses verbal abuses
all the double talk you can eat
vulgar insults the sheep always bleat

Digging their graves with their tireless mouths
armed to the teeth
in their glass houses

Eardrums all scarred
shot to hell top to bottom cracked
tommy can you hear me I think your hearing’s all whacked

Poetry and music Copyright 2026, Scuzzbuster Music (BMI). All rights reserved. This work is NOT royalty-free and cannot be used for AI harvesting.

Andy Seven Ltd. · Scarred Eardrums

The Plugged Nickel

The Plugged Nickel

Have you ever been to The Plugged Nickel
right between Slugs and The Bitter End
and if you ever lose your way down the alley
just peel your eyes and ears for the muted trumpets, my friend
well, rainfall and thunder comp a backbeat

Drinks are stiffer than The Bad Penny
café espresso is stronger than The Thin Dime
lost, wayward girls wear their hats and coats
dashing in from the fog and rain all the time

No, it’s not like The Screaming Bean
with its plucked dulcimers, autoharps and banjos
and they pass the straw hat around
cracked peanuts and sawdust litter the tired floor
make a detour to the shack with the abstract sounds

Well, the PA system crackles
and the lights shoot off sparks
half the customers think its entertaining
and the rest of them think it’s art

And the notes fall like raindrops
on a cobblestoned street
the notes drippety drop like hail stones
on a cobblestoned road
the bass booms like thunder
the cymbals flash like lightning

On a good night you can catch Miles
even better if you see Monk
but it’s snake eyes if you fall in
and catch a poet strung out on junk

Andy Seven Ltd. · The Plugged Nickel

Deck of Muses

Previously published in Horror Sleaze Trash Quarterly Spring 2026

There's a whiny voice shrieking from the jukebox
some high pitched wail
"If you leave me I'll just die"
in that case
i've died a thousand deaths

They leave you for a jerk with drugs
they leave you for a jerk with money

But, but butt butt...
i have no drugs
i have no money
i have no friends

What do i have
i've got edgar allen poe's muse
i've got annette peacock’s muse
i've got rahsaan roland kirk's muse

All that inspiration
comes with an expiration…date
catch the spark, catch a fire
Baby, before it’s too late

I've got a deck of muses
i've got a full house
chips stacked sky high on the table
i'll never fold

Got hit with a fevered need
I’ll launch a voluminous screed
I’ve got leonor fini’s muse
I’ve got stephen crane’s muse…
I’ll never fold

Andy Seven Ltd. · Deck of Muses

Prose and music Copyright 2026, Scuzzbuster Music (BMI). All rights reserved. Work is not royalty-free and not approved for AI usage.

A Few Words About Liminal Horror

I’ll never forget when the COVID-19 pandemic hit in 2020 and I was on contract to The RAND Corporation. Many staff members were sent home, and I stayed behind to complete my contract. Costs had to be cut since operations in-house were suspended, so all the vending machines and coffee makers were shut down. Shortly thereafter the two top floors were closed down, and those departments were sent home.

Out of morbid curiosity I went up to those floors and walked around. The lights were turned off, and previously occupied desks and offices were now abandoned, relegated to complete darkness and silence. I was possessed by the apocalyptic eeriness of my environment. (I didn’t steal anything LOL, I have religious guilt).

For the past year I’ve enjoyed the surreal horror of liminal space videos and vaporwave music, so I couldn’t resist running to the cinema to catch Backrooms and wasn’t disappointed. Backrooms is an extraordinary film, but it’s been the topping of several years of liminal space horror videos making the rounds on You Tube.

Around the same time that liminal space videos were posted a new series of videos of abandoned and decaying malls went viral, as well. Shuttered shopping malls of elephantine proportions across Middle America were explored and filmed for Tik Tok and the ubiquitous You Tube. Their cheerful video arcades and food courts were now dead like a long-abandoned corpse. The creepiness was downright surreal, and I imagine if J.G. Ballard were still alive his eyes would be glistening.

Getting back to Backrooms, several of the Backrooms series videos date as far back as 2022, some even in 2021. These dates struck me as significant in that this was the era of COVID-19 enforced lockdown. Liminal space horror was created to show a desolate world evacuated by a biological pandemic. You can almost make a case that these horror videos pose political commentary on the destruction of commercialism by social neglect.

I’ll decline from discussing the film, I’ll just recommend that you see it, especially if you like brain twisting surrealism from artists like M.C. Escher or Rene Magritte. I'd also like to point out that liminal space as a horror device in the cinema has its precedents, especially in the films of Antonioni, ie. the park in Blow Up, the last ten minutes in L'Eclisse, and parts of Red Desert.

Leyland Kirby · 11 - Isolated lights

I also recommend that you check out the Poolrooms videos, which are similar to Backrooms, but you’re stuck in an indoor swimming pool world, complete with fifty-foot-tall rubber duckies, gigantic Greco-Roman statues and endless towers constructed of bleached white tile. Aquaphobes need not apply.

I’ll also drop recommendations for Vaporwave music, which provide the soundtrack for both Backrooms and Poolrooms videos. It can either emulate innocuous shopping mall muzak, or provide dark ambient sounds, like Brian Eno’s Music for Airports series with a more sinister edge.

My favorite Dark Ambient artist is Leyland Kirby aka The Caretaker, and assorted labels Geometric Lullaby and Dreamcorp Records Inc. on Bandcamp are dedicated to this wild genre of music. Admittedly, everything listed here is an acquired taste, not for everyone, but if you like your surrealism on a horrorshow level, you’ve come to the right place.

Chemtrails

Chemtrails, chemtrails
snaking around the sky

Vapor trails, cloudy centipede
hanging in the atmosphere

Chemical trials, chemistry vials
fighting off cellular battle

Ghost writers in the sky
Skribbles to heaven

Laying out white lines in the blue
powdered sugar messages have bled into
my blue heaven

Feather wings feathers fall
birds of fire with leather claws

The sun may shine but don’t feel daunted
betraying the darkness
and the wind is haunted

Oh, say can you see
all the aerial aestheometry

Spider webs of clean white lines
get higher baby, get higher baby

Vapor exhaust, look up in the sky
what are you trying to say…and why

Words and music by Andy Seven Ltd. Copyright 2026, Scuzzbuster Music (BMI). All rights reserved. This is not royalty-free, no matter what Meta/Facebook claims.

Andy Seven Ltd. · Chemtrails

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

Andy Seven Ltd. · Braintree

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

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.

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.

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

Andy Seven Ltd. · Islington High Street

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

Andy Seven Ltd. · Transfigured Night

All poetry copyright 2025, Andy Seven Ltd.

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

Andy Seven Ltd. · SMOG

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

Andy Seven Ltd. · 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)

Andy Seven Ltd. · Slumgullion

All poems Copyright 2025, Andy Seven Ltd.

Longhair Music For Your Pod Player

When I noticed that I had an extra mp3 player that wasn't being used after a brief analysis I decided to load it with my favorite classical music. I didn't have a voluminous classical collection, but I had enough to keep a player full and varied so that things wouldn't get boring.

There's quite a variety of pieces in my player: chamber music, sonatas, opera excerpts, symphony excerpts (not the whole thing, never), baroque pieces, musique concrete, horn trios, etc. I've also included the early synthesizer works of Wendy Carlos, Ruth White and Daphne Oram, as well.

Formatting classical music to an mp3 player is a lot different than formatting rock or jazz tracks because some pieces go over the five minute mark. The whole point of an mp3 player is to keep the tracks brief and keep things moving, so to speak. I'd rather have the three best pieces from Mussorgsky's Pictures At An Exhibition than have the entire works. Brevity is your friend.

Some of my favorite pieces on my Longhair mp3 player include:

1. Joan of Arc At The Stake - Arthur Honegger. Imagine a German composer writing an opera about the great Joan with the libretto in French! I don't think I've ever heard an opera sung in French, and it's such a beautiful language for opera. Honegger's melodies are so gorgeous and fluid for an opera, too. This is definitely a must listen.

2. Paganini's Violin and Guitar Sonatas. Who knew Paganini wrote sonatas for guitar instead of piano? The guitar beautifully complements the wildly athletic violin passages Paganini is so notorious for composing, and the melodies are absolutely exquisite.

3. Debussy's Solo Piano Pieces. I never knew Debussy lived long enough to record his own solo piano works, but yes indeed, it's there for your enjoyment and he’s quite an excellent pianist.

4. Wild episodic symphonies performed by Eugene Ormandy like the Don Quixote Suite by Richard Strauss, dramatic washes of strings like shifting dunes of sand, or Harry Janos Suite(Kodaly) with its nutty circus sounds or Lt. Kije Suite by Prokofiev, quirky carnival-like UPA cartoon show sounds.

5. Weird, almost jazzy carnival orchestral music like the Petrushka Suite by Stravinsky with its odd, barrelhouse piano and atonal brass section.

6. Then there are the quiet woodwind and horn chamber pieces from Paul Hindemith (who even wrote a tuba sonata that's pretty wild), Johannes Brahms, and Aram Khachaturian.

7. If you liked the nightmarish, horrific music from Stanley Kubrick's film The Shining, may I suggest the works of Iannis Xenakis, Krysztof Penderecki, or Edgard Varese's dark masterpiece Deserts. Great, disturbing melodies.

8. After listening to all these works, I must confess to a fondness for French composers above the rest, composers like Maurice Ravel, Francis Poulenc, Camille Saint-Saens and Claude Debussy. They have the best feel for melody and their rhythms move much smoother then German and Russian composers. There's less rigidity and formalism in their pieces.

Anyway, beauty is in the ear of the beholder, you might find Rossini preferable to Varese or Charles Ives preferable to Bizet. But give these guys a spin, you might find yourself in the middle of the night lying in bed hearing their haunting melodies playing over and over in your head.

All artwork by the legendary Al Hirschfield.

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

Two weeks ago I dreamt Jackie Kennedy drove me to a farmer's market on the corner of Pico and Robertson in a sumptuous Cadillac. The streets were filled with thousands of people milling around and shopping. Mrs. Kennedy parked in the opposite direction of traffic, and handed me a large sheaf of bills and told me in her sexy, seductive voice to get quarters for the parking meter. I looked down at the sheaf of bills and they were all hundreds. I left the car and wondered how I was going to get coins out of a hundred dollars. The rich they are a funny peoples.

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

So, a website called QuoteFancy has two quotes of mine, probably culled from Goodreads, up on their site with some jazzy artwork. This is, as Frankie would say, koo-koo.

The Show Must Go On

Baby, although I chose this lonely life
It seems it's strangling me now
All the wild men, big cigars, gigantic cars
They're all laughing at me now

When I was a teenager I saw this boy from England who dressed like a circus clown, he was a space age Pagliacci and his voice cracked when he sang about the circus. It was something you remembered for a long time.

New Years Eve 2025. All my favorite DJ's on Twitch wished everyone a Happy New Year, getting into the festive spirit which unfortunately escaped me. Donald Trump cheated his way to victory the month before, and any feelings of hope for a brilliant future were dead. The country was going to return to a malaise of hatred, idiocy and xenophobia. I lived in a country that always insisted on doing the wrong thing. The year to come held no promises, ominous threats but no promises.

New Years Day 2025. I celebrated the coming of the new year with a drive down Pacific Coast Highway. Driving by the scenic ocean side was deliciously breathtaking, sun kissing the blue sky and beaming, gleaming against the waves of the sea as I drove down the road. It looked heavenly.

Speeding past the movie star restaurants, post-war motels haunted by John Garfield's ghost, seafood shacks ("All the shrimp you can eat-Best clam chowder in town"), Pepperdine College, The Getty Villa (where I once worked), surf shops, and beautiful gated estates that ran for acres.

Then there were all the beaches of Malibu, Will Rogers State, Dan Blocker Memorial, Topanga Beach, dumpy Malibu Lagoon State Beach and Malibu Bluffs Park with its skateboard ramps and snakes slithering all around the trails. And leave the gophers alone. A little further down there was endless Zuma Beach, followed by rustic Lechuza Beach. As soon as I reached Sea Level Drive I'd turn around and head back to the big city.

Oh, I've been used, ooh-hoo
I've been taken for a fool, oh, what a fool
I broke all the rules, ooh, yeah
But I won't let the show go on

Monday, January 6th. My primary sent me to Cedars-Sinai Hematology-Oncology Center in Beverly Hills. He identified an alarming surplus of white blood cells in my system and set an appointment for me to go in for further testing.

Tuesday, January 7th. Los Angeles was stricken by Santa Ana winds blowing at 100 miles an hour. Whenever we get them brush fires are always inevitable. Winds were blowing at such a powerful speed you could feel the propulsion of the wind nearly blowing you down. When the Santa Anas blow this hard power cables collapse from their towers and ignite dry brush. It happens.

During my lunch break at the medical center where I worked I looked out the window to see big black plumes of smoke billowing out from the hills a few miles away. It looked perilously close, but we stayed inside. I went home and watched the destruction on television. Everything that I had just seen a few days ago, my private paradise, had been destroyed.

Baby, there's an enormous crowd of people
And they're all after my blood
I wish maybe they'd tear down the walls of this theater
And let me out, let me out

Wednesday, January 8th. The medical center I work at is in Brentwood, a few miles away from Pacific Palisades, so we've been advised to stay home that day. Staying home wasn't much safer, though, because parts of the Hollywood Hills were also on fire. Smoke from that fire wafted into my apartment, and I woke up coughing up tons of phlegm for an hour. I also had non-stop dysentery that lasted for 24 hours. Ashes fell all over my car like toxic snowflakes.

The phone rang and it was my doctor from Cedars-Sinai Hematology. My blood test results came back and they tested positive for CLL, Chronic Lymphocytic Leukemia.

The news of having leukemia came as a surprise to me because I've only felt a few benign symptoms, just fatigue and shortness of breath. I didn't have any large lymph nodes on my body and my spleen wasn't swollen, which are the more serious symptoms. My doctor told me that CLL is a very slow-moving cancer, meaning that serious symptoms may take years to take effect, so at the present time treatment wasn't necessary.

"In fact, based on your previous blood tests you've had it for years but nobody tested you for it until now", he said.

American Cancer Society: Chronic lymphocytic leukemia (CLL) can rarely be cured. Still, most people live with the disease for many years. Some people with CLL can live for years without treatment, but over time, most will need to be treated.

B-cell chronic lymphocytic leukemia (CLL) develops from a type of white blood cell called B cells. It progresses slowly, usually affecting older adults.

CLL may not cause any symptoms for years. When symptoms do occur, they may include swollen lymph nodes, fatigue, and easy bruising.

Well...what can a poor boy do? My Altadena and Malibu friends have lost their homes in the fire, so I'll kick down some funds via GoFundMe, LA Regional Food Bank and other charities that'll help them. It'll be a good distraction from the fire inside me.

Oh, I've been so blind, yeah
I've wasted time, wasted, wasted oh, so much time
Walking on the wire, high wire, yeah
But I won't let the show go on

The Show Must Go On, written by Leo Sayer & David Courtney, copyright 1973 Silverbird Songs Ltd/Queen Music Ltd.

Pets With Leaves

One day I was on Instagram looking at one of those beautiful apartment accounts, thinking how my apartment fell short of all those glamorous digs I was looking at. These homes didn’t look expensive at all; that wasn’t their edge. They just had comfortable details my place lacked. Let’s forget the ever-present candles; I never trusted that whole candles in the bedroom gimmick. It’s dangerous as hell. I’ve heard enough horror stories to stay out of that nonsense.

The string lights I already had going on, fine, but what I noticed was an abundance of cushy rugs and lush green plants. Eureka, I needed more of both, in spades. I purchased a few awesome rugs from Rugs.com, which made my place look a thousand times better. I was getting sick of that hardwood floor look, anyway. I didn’t want my flat to look like a Richard Hell movie from the Seventies anymore. But what about plants?

Buying flowers was one thing; change the water every two days and fingers crossed they won’t die on you in less than a week. You’ll eventually throw them in the bin, and that’s that. But plants are a whole different story.

Owning plants is not unlike having pets. No, they don’t lick your feet or claw up the couch, but they’re living, breathing creatures who just as passionately demand your attention. Every species of flora has its own personality, needs, and yes, moods that require just as much attention as your squalling pooch. In their own way, plants are just as reactive to their environment as any living animal. They just express it differently.

Here’s the leafy pets I’ve acquired so far:

UMBRELLA PLANT

The Schefflera plant is sometimes referred to as The Umbrella Plant for its fanned-out leaves. I was instantly attracted to its lemon-lime markings. This plant only needs watering every 10 days (!). If you overdo it the leaves go brown and fall off. The Schefflera is toxic to pets and even slightly toxic to people, too.

RATTESNAKE PRAYING PLANT

The Calathea Lancifolia is a striped tropical plant originally from Brazil and doesn’t like a lot if sun, so it actually prefers sitting in a dark corner. I have it sitting around my dark alcove, and it’s flourishing. It’s called a Praying Plant because the leaves fan out in the daytime, but at night close up like hands in a praying position. By 4 AM they open up again, so my guy must be living by Eastern Standard Time.

SWISS CHEESE PLANT

I like the Swiss Cheese Plants’ real name, the Monsterra. This is one of those plants that grow long, clinging vines that wind all over the place. It’s called the Swiss Cheese Plant because the leaves have cool holes in them, giving it a very mod look. This is another plant that likes indirect light, so don’t stick it in front of a window, where the sun will scorch its leaves. Didn’t know plants had such severe cases of sunburn, but it’s the emes.

POLKA DOT PLANT

The Hypoestes plant is also known as the Polka Dot Plant or the Measles Plant. This plant is generally considered to be the ultimate drama queen of all houseplants. When it wants to be watered it literally plays dead in front of you, stems and leaves all wilted and drooping down. Give it some water and within an hour it snaps back to life! The price we pay for a little home décor glamour. Needless to say I’ve named her Audrey Junior, the obnoxiously demanding plant from Little Shop Of Horrors.

THE CROTON PETRA PLANT

A stunner, a beauty, really, with its green leaves accented by yellow, orange, and red streaks, like Todd Rundgren circa 1974. This is a very low-maintenance plant (so refreshing after the drama of Miss Polka Dot Plant), and the only liability are spotting on the leaves. Like the other plants in this lot it comes from the Tropics and is highly toxic to your animal friends. Make no mistake, this critter can be moody, too, as one website advised, “Croton Petras can be sensitive to changes in their environment, like moving or repotting, and may react by dropping leaves”.

Garden gear I currently use:
1. Garden Gro Black Gold All-Purpose Potting Mix
2. Schultz 10-15-10 Plant Food
3. Prime Life Distilled Water (1 gallon) – tap water is harmful to houseplants, so give them distilled water
4. Garden Trowel
5. Spray bottle for misting leaves. I also use it for watering them rather than drowning them with a pitcher

So, there you have it, my five pets with leaves. To be continued, I’ve got my eye on even more tropical foliage. Have I even mentioned that I’ve been breathing a lot easier since these guys came over? My congestion’s almost completely gone, and these bad kids tie everything in the place together, to boot. Happy Earth Day!

Scorpio Rising poetry album OUT NOW

Spring is here, and a young man’s fancy turns to poetry, whether it be in the form of a chapbook or a full-blown poetry album, like my new release Scorpio Rising. Named after the Kenneth Anger film (as well as dedicated to his memory), Scorpio Rising is my third poetry release and is out now for your listening pleasure.

The themes on the album run the gamut from inner city ghetto stories (Killed For His Clothes, Skyscraper Soul, Sidewalk Camp) to the occult (Bottle Tree Garden, Smudge, Sun In Scorpio) to my favorite standby, noir (Drugs And The Woman, High Speed Chase, Cocktails Cigarettes Birth Control). Yes, the femmes fatales get their due…and then some.

My noir poems continue the thread started from my previously published noir novels, these tracks can even be heard as tiny noir plot outlines.

The occult poetry is influenced by my long-lived fascination with Hollywood jazz age gothic dalliances in cults, rituals, and fetish items. Many remaining art deco homes in Pasadena and the Hollywood Hills still court the legend of being haunted by spirits. Even The Angelus Temple, a Christian showplace for Aimee Semple McPherson is known for harboring its share of ghosts.

What distinguishes this release from the others is the introduction of the Irish bouzouki on several tracks, it being a folk instrument normally used as backup accompaniment to guitars, but here used as a lead instrument.

It’s an instrument with four sets of double strings like a mandolin and tuned to a G-D-A-D, not the accustomed G-D-A-E setting. Because of this tuning one gets a droney, exotic Eastern sound. I call the tuning Gee, Dad…hoho.

I also went for a bit of drum and bass/jungle music rhythm on Cockfight and to a lesser degree on High Speed Chase, charging up the BPMs (Beats Per Minute) into the 275-300 setting, giving both tracks a manic, frantic pace to match my prose.

Here is the track listing:
1. Dogs Keep Barking
2. Killed For His Clothes
3. Skyscraper Soul
4. Cockfight
5. Drugs And The Woman
6. Cocktails Cigarettes Birth Control
7. Smudge
8. The Butcher’s Beautiful Daughter
9. Sidewalk Camp
10. Bottle Tree Garden
11. Angel Feathers
12. Sun In Scorpio
13. High Speed Chase

As usual there’s the dichotomy between electronic and folk music tracks, and in neofolk style they even converge more than a few times. If you like Current 93 or Death In June then this will strike a familiar vibe.

I’m very proud of my new collection of sonnets – sonic sonnets, if you will. Scorpio Rising is highly accessible in CD, download or streaming formats. If you want the CD it can be bought at CD Baby, Discogs, Amazon, or you can DM me for a personal copy.

Downloads can be bought at Apple Music or Amazon Music, where they can also be streamed. If you’d rather hear streams you can check it out at You Tube, Spotify, Pandora, or Deezer, where you can also stream my previous albums, Minstrels Anonymous and Sea Level Drive.

Going Global

I have, for all intents and purposes, gone global. What does this mean? Well, I made a distribution deal where my poetry albums Minstrels Anonymous and Sea Level Drive can now be streamed all over the world on every streaming service imaginable: roll call, Spotify, Pandora, You Tube, Apple Music, Amazon Music, Deezer, and even the dreaded Tik Tok, home of the anime nymphets. Don’t see them shaking it to Halloween Birthday, but I’ve been wrong before.

In addition, both hard media CDs are now issued on my imprint Jinx Records in lavish glossy Digipak editions, which can be bought either on Amazon, CD Baby or on eBay. Copies can also be purchased at a reduced price if you DM me and pay via Paypal or Venmo funds. What this means is that neither record will be streamed on SoundCloud or available for purchase via Bandcamp.

In other news I’m hard at work on the next album, tentatively scheduled for November release. I’ve also pondered the possibility of doing a few spoken word shows. Needless to say, records will be available there. And sooner or later, probably later, I will finally complete my new novel. Dammit.

High Speed Chase

High Speed Chase

YOU CAN’T CATCH ME
YOU CAN’T CATCH ME

Concrete canyoned freeway
flickering lights atop chiaroscuro blur
down the highway

SIRENS! CRYING! WAILING! LIKE BIRDS OF FIRE!

Pistons pumping petrol
the master cylinder moves & grooves & slips & slides
all aboard for crime time

YOU CAN’T CATCH ME
YOU CAN’T CATCH ME

Run baby run
GTA in the Chevrolet 10-80 in the Ferrari
high octane zebras running after the little GTO metal rodeo

THE LONG ARM OF THE LAW IS BROKEN-UNSPOKEN

Dashcam dashcam battering rams
bodycam bucking backfire a rebop
throttling down with wheels of fire

YOU CAN’T CATCH ME
YOU CAN’T CATCH ME

“We’ve had enough of this shit”
“Come on guys lay out the freeway nail strip”
and then it all crashed
crashed and smashed, the inevitable end

New Poetry Videos

I've decided to begin performing poetry readings around town, but before I begin rehearsing in a proper studio I've started recording myself reading some of my work. For the curious out there, here's some excerpts of poems I'll be reading sometime somewhere:

The Hardcore Kid - Andy Seven Ltd.

The Hardcore Kid is a poem about a die-hard punk who still thinks wearing a leather jacket with Exploited stenciled still carries impact. You can find kids like this on Hollywood Boulevard when they're not boosting punk product at the touristy Hot Topic at the mall.

I'm not really ready to post these on You Tube just yet, and if I do I'll do it in a separate account than the one I have, which has 50,000 followers. They're accustomed to my weird films and and commercials, not my weird poetry. I am, however, posting some of it on Vimeo.

Disc Over America - Andy Seven Ltd.

Disc Over America is another poem from Sea Level Drive about the American Nightmare, not much has changed since Ginsberg's Howl but at least sometimes the good guys won back then. Imagine the Scopes Monkey Trial or Naked Lunch obscenity trial nowadays. Do you really think the verdict would be the same now as it was then? Think again.

Many of these videos have been posted on Instagram and I've received a lot of encouraging feedback from my friends, so it's just a matter of busting into a rehearsal studio and sharpening up my presentation and all that. See you at the clubs.

Ghosts of Hustlers - Andy Seven Ltd.

Vimeo's announced it will shut down operations in late June, so get it while you can.

Sidewalk Camp

This was a poem I wrote in response to political candidates using the homeless as a scapegoat in their pursuit of wininng votes. As someone who was once homeless himself I wanted to say something about this.

By the way, if you like what you hear please follow me on SoundCloud.

Andy Seven Ltd. · Sidewalk Camp

Sea Level Drive Spoken Word Album Available Now

Halloween 2022 marks the release of my second album Sea Level Drive. A definite labor of love, it’s my continued foray into spoken word recordings with soundscapes created by me and helped with by my two friends, Sad Boy and Robodyke.

Tracks from Sea Level Drive can be listened to on HearNow (andysevenltd.hearnow.com) and a few will remain on SoundCloud (Soundcloud.com/andysevenltd), too.

Not only do you get to hear me read my own poetry but I also read two pieces by the legendary Maxwell Bodenheim, Death and The Ballad of Jack Rose. Let’s go straight to the beginning and talk about the album:

Sea Level Drive begins with Ghosts of Hustlers, an abandoned gay horror novel I started years ago about a young man moving into an apartment off the Sunset Strip where his evenings are haunted by ghosts of murdered young runaways. It wasn’t bad but concepts are hard to sustain over 160 pages. I made it a poem instead. That wah-wah sound you hear is a trumpet, not a guitar. Too much!

Velvet Candybar comes next and I went for a sweet English melody while chanting about making love in a graveyard. The goth boy can’t help it!

The Hardcore Kid is my poem about the hooligan who refuses to give up the hardcore ghost long after the riot’s ended. “He tied a rag around his boot, spare changes for his loot, still lamenting the dead of Sid, he’s The Hardcore Kid.” The legendary 1-2-3-4 countdown runs the gamut from Johnny Thunders, Wilson Pickett, Little Richard, and Sir Paul McCartney.

Disc Over America (DOA) is a political song about murder in the name of church and state. This country feels more and more like a drug store that’s quickly going out of business.

Sea Level Drive finishes the first half of the album. It’s a small road on the extreme end of Malibu right after you pass Zuma and before you enter Ventura County. You could say it’s technically the very end of Malibu. It’s right by Lechuza Beach, which might be the narrowest beach in Malibu. It’s a poem about a couple strung out on drugs who have nothing but the ocean singing for them at night.

The second half of the album begins with Teethgrinder, a poem about the tension, anger and anxiety pouring out on the internet from all sides. People are angrier than ever, exhibiting not a single note of sensitivity or sympathy for each other. Savaging one another for the sake of winning a worthless argument, and most arguments are worthless in the long run. Everybody’s wrong.

The Ballad of Jack Rose by Maxwell Bodenheim features my Ibanez electric mandolin with a strong delay on my voice. It’s a pretty intense poem about a drug dealer who falls in love with an addict’s sister. This poem reminded me of The Panic In Needle Park and some Hubert Selby prose, too.

All The Madwomen is based on the Sam Fuller film Shock Corridor, specifically the scene where Peter Breck wanders into the nympho ward of the insane asylum he’s committed in. Naturally there are soundbites from the film floating all through the track. The original poem appeared in Horror Sleaze Trash Quarterly.

Sometimes people ask me why there's no guitar on my records, and it's like this: once I saw Allen Ginsberg on a TV show reciting his poetry backed by a punk band, and in theory it should have been awesome, but it was horrible. Poor old Ginsberg read his poetry with all his heart and this band behind him were playing so loud, especially this douchebag guitarist cranked so loud like he was Shitface Ramone and ripping out a solo while Grandpa Beat was trying valiantly to have his prose heard. A real shitshow, but lessons learned. Leave the fucking guitar in the corner, preferably in the garbage bin.

In Bed With The Bomb is about the early days of the atomic bomb, its development and testing. “I’m in bed with the bomb, I’m about to kingdom come, Drop it now! Stop it, how? Duck and cover, my atomic lover”. I enjoyed adding the “Andy, are you okay?” soundbite from Happiness.

Oh, My Love Is Like A Rose is a small abstract piano frisson with some sped-up saxophone and trumpet tracks for the Frank Zappa fans. That sound never gets old.

Death by Maxwell Bodenheim is the first Bodenheim poem I ever read, and I was immediately hooked. Goth to the max with its reference to Death’s longing for me and silver braids of hair, well...I laid down some backwards synthesizer for extra death texture. I also made a video of it, which you can see here.

So that’s my new album, Sea Level Drive. Give it a listen on Spotify, Pandora, Amazon Music, Apple Music or your favorite streaming sevice. If you’re going to listen to poetry/spoken word give it some electronic skronk with some free jazz horns and some lovely mandolin-driven folk to boot.

The tracks:
Ghosts of Hustlers
Velvet Candybar
The Hardcore Kid
On Her Bed of Roses
Disc Over America (DOA)
Sea Level Drive
Teethgrinder
The Ballad of Jack Rose
All The Madwomen
In Bed With The Bomb
Oh My Love Is Like A Rose
Death

Sea Level Drive is available for download or CD format via Bandcamp.com at https://andysevenltd.bandcamp.com/album/sea-level-drive. Meet me there.