Halloween EPs 2014 - Mirrorball and Monsters.

Oct 31, 2014

Two Halloween EPs of stories/songs that I performed at the Rising Sun Arts Centre in August and October this year. They cover disaster, vampires, lake monsters, mental health, a traffic light party, self-driving lorries, a baby, bears and voodoo dolls.

Fol­low­ing last year’s Hal­loween EP of songs per­formed at the Here Comes the Sun Fest­ival at the Rising Sun Arts Centre in Read­ing, here are two EPs of songs and stor­ies for Hal­loween 2014. The first half was ori­gin­ally per­formed at the Here Comes the Sun Fest­ival in Au­gust this year and the second at the same venue on Oc­to­ber 18th. All were home re­cor­ded over the last few days of Oc­to­ber 2014 at Stu­dio Josephine, Ab­bey Road, St John’s Wood.

Top­ics covered are: Dis­aster, vam­pires, lake mon­sters, men­tal health, a traffic light party, self-driv­ing lor­ries, a baby, bears and voo­doo dolls.

They are ded­ic­ated to the traffic, birds and other noises on Ab­bey Road that make them­selves known even at 3am. You prob­ably don’t need to read that ded­ic­a­tion as they’re all over the re­cord.

I used three acous­tic gui­tars (an Ad­mira nylon string, Cath­er­ine the Ibanez steel string and a Yamaha Pa­ci­fica elec­tric), a Ca­sio di­gital pi­ano, an MV8800 Pro­duc­tion Stu­dio, a Zoom H4N field re­corder and a Shure SM57 mi­cro­phone. The birds on “No Bears” were ori­gin­ally re­cor­ded many years ago at Cherry Croft, Wel­wyn Garden City.

Thank you to every­one who went to these shows or put the shows on in the first place (without shows to play I’d never have writ­ten these songs).

Have a Happy Hal­loween (the greatest hol­i­day of the year).


by Filip Hnízdo Tracks: 9 Released: 2014



I’m afraid to open them. My body is an ache as dull as the backs of my eyelids. All grey, empty, tripped beyond pain into a numb, deep nothing. I’m afraid to open them in case I find I can’t. Find the grey is forever, that they are already open. Wide and without edge. I’m afraid it’s constant. That the pain will never get lighter or heavier, never be anything but this. A numb eternity. A stopped clock with no memory. I try to focus on a body part, anything to claw back some independence, an idea of a thing, a taste, a smell. Any temporary feeling but nothing. Whatever is left of me grows smaller, held in by a force pushing and crushing to the centre. The emptiness is winning. Its only edge is mine and I shrink with every inch it gains. I’m tense, impatient, on edge waiting for the end or start. Seconds to death. Five seconds to death. Five, four, three, two… I push back and force flood the grey to an imaginary red in a kick, shake, sparkle and screaming buzz.
My eyes open and my chest thrusts forward as I awake to a torturous pain that covers all of me with different, brilliantly terrible sensations. A granted wish never felt so real or so dreadful. Life is a dozen unique agonies taking turns to distract me from the others before switching channels. Join the dots. Constellations.
Dull, dusty and grey, the outside world is nonetheless real, better than the everlasting grey of the other. My eyes scream “I’m actually alive, here, feeling.” Still the first point of focus isn’t visual. It’s my ears and head and a sharp throbbing whine passing straight through them, impaling me in a line of giant, explosive and constant pitch. I try to move my arms and hands to cover my head from it but can’t. Focusing on them only brings their pain to the centre. I try to ignore it and return to my eyes.
When the first recognisable shape comes into view it’s like a bore-hole pierced in dam. Memories come flooding back. The window giving way suddenly, the screams, panic and sudden roll of the building. The floor tilting and the outdoors rushing in with the wind in a blur. Then more screams, crashing, grabbing onto the inside of a desk as the whole world turns upside down. Silence.
“Fragile – handle with care”.
A red, frayed label on a package lying un-open inches from my forehead. Above it the side of the desk, torn to pieces and covered in paperwork, woodchip and dust. The rest of it is lying flat on top of me surrounded by grey, undecorated rubble.
I’m suddenly back at the office, at the event. I’m not breathing. I’ve got to get out, escape, save myself and others. I shake furiously before I’m jolted into hyperventilation as I realise I can’t move. I’m stuck here. Limbs useless. My eyes roll around and a drop of blood hazes my vision. I see the rest of the room in an awful shape. Disjointed, turned inside out and merged with the concrete scenery of the street below. A broken up car blends with a body bloodied from the waist down, knees inverted, strips of flesh. Green skirt reflecting in the chrome. Ruby. No face. No movement. She’s here with others. Some faces turned inside out, some frozen in a yell, some sad. The worst are eerily peaceful. Contorted limbs merge with objects as if uniting the two in bleak, grey inanimation.
The horror knocks back any triumph at survival. A practical thought pulls back any remaining sanity in me. There must be someone else. Some survivors. Police, ambulances, rescue crews. I try moving again but can’t. I notice words on paper, scraps of lunch. Biscuits, birthday cards and stationery. More bodies. All dead. Unmoving like me but really dead. Grey and empty. I try to look over myself and my shaking skin nudges in a brief reassurance.
I try kicking but I’ve no energy left. I don’t want to close my eyes. I’m pushing out, staring as wide as I can at the brutality and chaos trying to persuade myself it’s better than the grey. Even this horror is better than death. I give in and collapse into sleep.



You’re checking out boys by an Austrian lake,
Your friends are fast asleep sorting their memories they should savour some of you.
Mountains hide the Austrian lake,
From the outside world that may have brought you pain but it was safer than you knew.
The moon lights up the Austrian lake,
And the shimmering reflection causes you to grin and contemplate a swim.
You strip off by the Austrian lake,
You’re not alone, you should always look around before you’re getting in.


You hear a voice by the Austrian lake,
It’s sweet as pop and bounces off the water into your baited ear
You’re knee deep at the Austrian lake,
And spot the topless source, singing and dangling his bowed legs from the pier.
Here’s an idea.
You’re wading in the Austrian lake,
It’s deeper than you thought but you’ll surprise him and he’ll surely want to play.
Your feet lift in the Austrian lake,
You’re swimming and your wrists can feel the chill but your lust it wants to stay.
He turns round at the Austrian lake,
And you feel shadows all around you they aren’t mountains anymore but look like men
You panic at the Austrian lake,
See your clothes out by the waterside you don’t think you’ll be wearing them again.
They move beneath you at the Austrian lake,
You try to dodge their bodies but this isn’t your turn anymore it’s theirs.
You scream out at the Austrian lake,
And they just sing it back in perfect pitch there’s no one else awake who hears or cares.
Your senses give in by the Austrian lake,
The ripples pulsing round your neck are all your goose-bumped skin has left to feel.
Your future’s smiling at the Austrian lake,
They point to town and all its glowing lights and speak to make a deal.
If you want to escape, bring us someone new.
If you want to escape, bring us someone new.
Walking to the chalets by the Austrian lake,
Is a promised chance at freedom worth a century of pretty silent deaths.
By the bedside at the Austrian lake,
You’re dripping wet but drops aren’t all that loud compared to sleeping breaths.
If you want to escape, bring us someone new.
If you want to escape, bring us someone new.

The Past is Just a Graveyard


We didn’t get the message as we crept towards the end of the night.
Our parents and our parents’ parents’ parents told us “keep out of the light”.
Our skin turns black and itches, that’s the symptom we all notice first,
Then our bones begin to crackle and we realise it’s not even the worst part.
Our veins shudder and wobble as our victims’ blood begins to boil away,
The vapour rising out turns into spirits screeching “time for you to pay”.
We turn around look puppy-eyed and wonder why the world cursed us like this.
The sunbathers in the garden lick their ice-creams like they’re just taking the piss.
But I look at you and I don’t feel bad, or sad our mad just glad we had a great time while it lasted we may end up dead and blasted but the sun can’t melt this one this one this memory will burst from me and we’ll circle through their bodies make their skin and hair our hobbies and this torture isn’t all that bad I’m sure. We’ve been through worse before.
Now a summer’s day can’t stop us flying fuelled by our adventure-sense and present-tense regard. The past is just a graveyard.

80% Cloud, Chance of Sunny Spells


This is no funeral but everyone is wearing grey.
The music’s playing loud enough that I can’t hear a word you say.
I nod even though it’s a death wish.
You’re playing with my mind again with your knotted strings,
You step forward and you’re glimmering but no one else notices you.
There aren’t enough distractions and I’m feeling scared.
It’s a camping trip to madness country and I’m unprepared.
80% cloud, chance of sunny spells.
We booked our cells into damp starless hotels.
A tap on my shoulder and you fall apart,
A friend makes a joke but you tug at my heart and there’s not even a smile to make him keep talking and stay,
Is it selfish that I want him so you keep the hell away?
I like this song, can I stay here a while?
You shake your head with a dripping smile and the tip of a knife it shows
beneath your chemically-patterned dress

I’d die a blood-drenched mess, and they’d never know.
This is guts and gore filled puppet show and there’s only cabin room for us behind the curtains tonight.
It was sunny here,
but you pulled the cord and cut the light.
So many people it seems dumb to feel alone,
A girl backed into a corner we’ve all got our own,
And you turn to me and say “it’s time I took you home”
And you look like me.
Mental health’s a mirror ball and it reflects selectively.

Traffic Light Party


I’m wearing green to the traffic light party,
All the girls and boys look straight at me and they claw
With their fingers and they kick with their legs
These aren’t dance moves they’re death
They grope and kiss at the traffic light party,
They show their chests and necks and bare their lipstick-teeth,
as I look green at the traffic light party,
They don’t notice I’m wearing yellow underneath.
Now I’m wearing red to the traffic light party,
And I’m looking at you and you’re looking good.
Wearing jeans at the traffic light party,
They hiss and boo but you’re not feeling blue,
You’re you you’re you you’re you you’re you you’re you you’re you you’re you you’re you you’re you…
And you know what to do with your arms and your feet as the music runs through you you light up to the beat and you glow like a hundred thousand fireflies I see musical notation dancing in your eyes and the score’s complete when our bodies meet on the floor. And you’re toe-tapping, shuffling, and dragging my feet to the door.
We caused a crash at the traffic light party,
I lost my frown and mixed to a golden brown.
At the unpalatable traffic light party...



You're a truck driver and you're carrying freshwater fish from Scotland down the motorway.
It's midnight. You've been driving for four hours so legally you have to stop.
Every other truck just slides right past. They're all automated. They said you'd be extinct years ago but you're still here, driving yourself, taking a break, alone.
You used to meet up with others, particularly on this route. Share stories, send greetings via indicators, complain about the future.
But when it came to fighting the future you'd already retired.
So you're here. You turn the radio off for a bit and the silence is absurd. They don't even run with the slightest hum. You nap for a bit. The company is relaxed on timings with you. Besides, you can be faster than them if you want.
An explosion of white light floods into your eyelids and you spring them over. You're surrounded, sheet metal, streamlined, the latest model, no doors. All the indicators are pointing towards you. You shrug it off, get back in and start to drive off. All their engines suddenly turn back on.
And they follow you.
Side by side, and one of them behind.
A convoy.

No Bears


First day of steps into the forest
And you’re sprouting,
A new leaf with a million.
But you’re a different beast
Than all the other leaves for sure.
There’s a tint of gold.
In your flowing hair.

And adventure lies under tree-bathed sky,
Oh look there’s a butterfly.
You love your life and everything around you
Will you please make out with me?
We’ll take it slowly, as you’ve got three years.
You can leave your inhibitions with your parents by your faults and fears
The things you left behind.
Who knows what joys you’ll find?
You try to put it down in words,
But get distracted by the birds.
There’s so much going on you try to put it in a song,
Look there’s a cottage.
With gleaming marble floors,
Three widths of open doors.
You step inside.
And there’s so much treasure.
It’s like a home for pleasure.
The porridge keeps you fed,
You try the chairs and bed.
And the hope that you felt amplified by everything you found inside,
You’re tired there’s another day and it’s clearly safe in here because
There are no bears here.
You keep on telling yourself there are no bears here.
Look through the window.
Sort through the drawers.
Watch some videos and play some games,
Try to match the faces that you met with names.
Because there are no bears here,
You’re safe because there are no bears here.
Find a sheet that fits and have a rest,
This little one is clearly best.
You’re in heaven when you’re woken by a thud.
But it’s nothing as there are no bears here,
You keep telling yourself there are no bears here.
Look out look out look out now it’s in your face,

Heaven scratched to shreds,
It’s like you woke up dead.
And it’s snarling in your veins and you need escape.

And that’s the little one.
Not even dad or mum.

And you’re not dreaming,
Hold tight as pleasure turns to screaming.

Run through the halls,
Hear their growls and calls.
And your blistered hands say give up you can’t do this,
But your brain pushes on and says you’ve got to get through this.
Until there are no bears here,
You’ll run your legs to dust til there are no bears here.
Make it to the door
Back to the forest floor.
Running past the pleasures that you lived for

But you dare not look behind,
For the danger that you’d surely find.
And it’s coming up to three years
And you’re snuggled by the television set.
You’re still nervous though there are no bears here.
Close curtains though you’re safe inside and there are no bears here.
When your new excited lover doesn’t know the hell that’ll be uncovered,
When asking about the scratches on your arm.
The moment shatters and you change the subject,
You say it’s nothing though you’ve broken down it sweat,
And there is nothing wrong.
You try to think back to the birdsong.

Your Replacement Baby


I wasn’t invited to the hospital,
When she was giving birth.
I stayed at home and flicked the TV,
Anything that can relieve me of the strain is good right now.
I swipe past messages from lovers,
She doesn’t know I cheated seven times.
They can wait like me.
They can wait like me.
Pour myself some holy water,
By the room where she made love to my guilty body and then smiled all year.
Turn up all the lamps, make it bright in here, rearrange the cushions a while.
It’s like she painted the walls with zero paint and just that smile¬¬
And now I’m waiting for her to come back to me.
I wasn’t invited to the hospital,
When she was giving birth.
I have a little dream,
I dream of fields and running, anything but in this place,
And I dream of us together but I can never get a matching face
To yours though I try all night.
It’s cute but never right.
It’s seven hours since the ambulance,
And the look you gave.
Sirens carry us forever.
From the cradle to the grave.
I wasn’t invited to the hospital,
I paced and waited anticipated everything
But her coming home.
And then the doorbell rings,
It’s practically singing.
And I’m running and I stop myself and think as I open the door
She has power in her eyes,
A face unlike another,
It’s like the glow of daylight.
And she walks over and embraces me.
This is the end of me this is the end of me.
And I don’t hear tears.
I see a hand peak from the blanket.

I feel cold metal in my belly and her eyes are full of fire.
And it is home.
And as she pushes in the knife I know no one can save me,
She says “Say hello to your replacement baby”.



We were dolls,
Awoken by a pin prick to our hearts,
Made for love but when love turns sour,
We’ve far more gruesome parts.

And I hear her say,
“Should I slice his throat?
“Should I dismember it gently so he feels every pull of the wool?”
What’s become of you?
You started off so pretty,
Beneath the stars you walked,
At the market where you found us.
We were so glad that you did.
Why did you keep your hatred hid?
We would have tucked beside.
Dream-catchers if we knew you had that much to hide.
A tap on the head, a kiss or a stroke of an arm,
All those business trips and holidays you took.
We made the distance shorter.
Now we crave the length.
You taught us about love,
But you’ve got nothing left
You’ve been squeezed dry and you’re both in separate cities
Why take us along?
We’re linked to you,
But it’s a one way connection.
There’s only one way out,
Attack the opposite direction
So we’ll come for you
Your love it may be over but the love that you inspired isn’t through.
While you’re sleeping scheming evil thoughts we’re crawling through the drain,
We’ll start by binding up your bodies so you’ll share each other’s loving breaths again.

Where is that needle set?
We haven’t finished with you yet.

Skin on skin, eyes on eyes it’s an intimate affection you’re now packaged with.
We’ll leave you two alone if you feel that way.
Stitch together all the feelings that you thought it right to simply throw away.
And we’ll make it back to Market Street,
To catch a couple saying “two dolls, isn’t that sweet?”
Isn’t that sweet?

Tagged with: music poetry