Lucas in the Sky With Diamonds

The Animals long with the The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, and The Who were at the forefront of the British invasion. Needless to say my music collection has nearly complete discographies of all these groups. Each of which spoke to me in different ways.

bballs01 broken ball

I think the Beatles were the first boy band – sold on cuteness then they showed their musical chops; The Stones sold danger; The Who pushed novelty songs into art. But the Animals were never neatly packaged. Reading a group bio ‘Animals Tracks’ – the usual member conflicts, financial ‘abuse’ by managers etc. No surprises there. More about this book next Friday.

bballs02chilly balls

As a queer teen songs like ‘Out of This Place’, ‘Misunderstood’ captured something of my self that songs from the others didn’t. There was no ‘Mrs. Brown You’ve Got A Hot Son;’ ‘Lucas in the Sky With Diamonds.’ Also, perhaps even more interestingly, to me, now is the difference in the image the lead singers projected into my teen sex psyche.

I can’t imagine John Lennon, or Mick Jagger getting into a fist fight with anyone. But, man, I can see Eric Burdon jumping into the fray. The Beatles had cute sexuality; The Stones a sort of sleazy but ultimately, to me, androgynous sexuality (Mick pranced more than danced); where as Eric has the look & stance of a real man.

bballs03 blue balls

His great voice, working class accent and stage presence were masculine and sometimes sullen. A short guy he bragged that he was as tall lying down as he was standing up & I recall a few pictures of him in his well packed jeans that made my mouth water. He reminds me now of guys I’d drink with who’d moan about their girlfriends, kiddies but drop their drawers for you in the back of their vans.



Passage of Surrender




We undress

my words are the same

not romantic

not sensitive

more a noise

than a communication


I undo his buttons

Wanting to rip open

But merely fondle




Touching the flesh beneath

With my fingers

My tongue


between buttons

more talk

politics, weather

anything to know more


He undoes my buttons


His teeth sinking

Stops the empty flow of words

My hands fumble his buckle

I can barely bite back

His shoulder his ear




The first rage passes

It steps aside for explorations

Gradually we lose touch

With everything but touch

We lose names

We lose identity

We lose politics

We become bodies

Cocks ass teeth breasts skin bones


A momentary total

Inhalation of one another

To the heart of the rage

To the rage of the heart




I will not let him dress

Till he stands in moonlight

While the shadows


Over his stomach

Between his legs

He slowly kneels before me

The moon is covered by clouds

As my mouth is covered by his




I always want more

More than there is

I am satiated but not satisfied

I want

His buttons in a jar

His rage

his lust

his fears

his desire

His rain drenched fists

Midnight pounding at my door

But I do have this memory

To alter to obliterate

With other buttons

Other biting teeth




I almost want an end

a grand finale

But my heart cannot beat


the fear


the rage

joylost my blues balls

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