How Freakin’ Zeitgeist Are You is the definitive collection of Murray Lachlan Young’s poems from 1994 to the present day. Anyone who has watched or listened to Murray perform will recognise the range of his work, from whimsical comedy to darker pieces through satire, cosmology and metaphysics. His incurable addiction to rhyme is evident from the first page and the whole collection is designed to be read aloud and shared with friends.
So open it up, find the beat and enter the strange and marvellous world of Murray Lachlan Young.
Contemplating growing a beard?
You want a beard you need a beard
You’ve seen what beards can do
The confidence, the joie de vivre
But which beard is for you?
French fork, Chin puff?
Cheeky Latin wedge?
Soul patch, Neck muff?
Thick bucolic hedge?
Intellectual goatee beard?
Cultivate the shrub
Nautical, or boaty beard?
Join the beardy club
Surfy beard or folky beard?
Fluffy pubic fuzz?
Black, blond, ginger beard?
Find the beardy buzz.
Meet up with your beardy friends
In a beardy bar
Talk about a beardy band
Name a beardy star
Scratch a little, stroke a little
Stroke a little more
Twist and preen and plump and prod
Yes, that’s what beards are for
Look into the mirror
See what you can do
Who’s that bushy beardy bear?
That beardy bear is you!
Masculine believable
Trustworthy and fun
Wholesome, wise yet vulnerable
Oh feel what you’ve become
Now customise, accessorise
Yes, strike a beardy theme
A pipe? Perhaps, a Breton shirt?
Go on; go on, some skinny jeans
Now out, out, out into the world
And execute your bearded plan
Embrace your bearded destiny
Become a bearded man!
How freakin Zeitgeist are you?
Are you local, organic, animal friendly?
Fairly traded, into bondage and Pilates, are you bendy?
Near the juice bar, with your iPad?
In your high tops, are you cool Dad?
Aiawaskaor Iboga?
Shivananda for your Yoga?
Are you Linked in, are you Beebo?
On your blog spot, drinking Miso?
Are you fluid, are you flexi?
Is your lifestyle well connected?
Are you posting, multi platform?
Is it Beijing that you’re back from?
Are you aware of cultural demographic shifts?
And interconnected network trends?
Yet aware of the difference in the new catagorisations?
In the world of us and those whom we call followers and friends?
Are you aware of mass customization and the 121 future?
And how black cabbage and Spanish cider fit with these developmental rules?
And that: 360 record deals
iPods as DJ decks
And rappers rapping about premium alcohol brands
Is now considered passé and deeply uncool?
Do you have an allotment?
And a bell tent, have you got one?
At a festi, set in parkland?
With a recycled wristband?
Are you surfing the eclectic?
Are you solar and electric?
Funky lifestyle, do you live one?
Or a monky's, could you give one?
So I guess what I’m kinda asking
While I’m kinda multi tasking
Is how freakin Zeitgeist are you?
Mundane Poem #1
This poem is not very interesting
It has, pauses
Where there, should be none
It is not deep and meaningful in any, respect
It is not very, clever and not that much, fun
This poem is purposefully, dreary,
Its desire is to be everyday, commonplace and dull.
And just incase it isn’t, monotonous, enough
This poem will now, wander into a lull
Of: boring, and unexciting ordinariness
And it will stay there for a while
While we all sit with the humdrum reality
Of its unexcitingness
Realising that it has lost focus
Its rhyme scheme it no longer functioning
This is not an attempt to be clever
It’s not even an attempt to prove that
Life can’t be interesting all the time
It is not attempting to say anything about anything
Really
Why would it want to do that?
For this poem is completely mundane
And that’s it.
Its finished, now.
If you met a famous person (What would you say?)
What would you say if you met a famous person?
A really famous person
I mean a card carrying
Really, really, properly famous person
Just you and them
and their vast and gleaming timepiece
In solid white gold with a platinum twist
Encrusted in diamonds and chronographic complications
As big a as a haddock adorning their wrist
And their tattooed eyelids and their Liposuction
And their cunningly holistic moisturizer
Reaped from the beard of a rare mountain goat
By their, disturbingly knowing looking, astrological advisor
What would you say, what would you do?
As you looked at them and they-
Lowered those shades (you could never afford)
And through lightly tinted contact lenses looked back at you
And spoke of conscious clarity, humility and charity
And they (broke down in tears and) told you that fame was (the dominion of madness cruelly reserved) for the unlucky few
And then took you into their confidence, regarding their audience with the Dali Lama
How he helped them see that they were no different than me or you.
What would you say?
What would you say?
Would you stand would you sit?
Would you kneel would you pray?
In that moment, that window, that second they had free...
'....Did you know the clocks are going forward? Or is it back? Its always so difficult to remember! I always get it wrong! I'm such an idiot! I'm so stupid! honestly!
Can I have your autograph please?’
Just here, on my arm, though of course, you understand..
...it’s actually not for me,
Its for someone else’
God bless the naked Rambler
God bless the naked Rambler
God bless his naked plan
God bless that solo nudist
And his brave bare-bottomed stand
Lands end to Newbury, Offas Dyke
Buxton Pennines on to Hawick
Across the Firth of Forth he strode
To John O'Groats the final road
Shaggy beard, safari hat
Sturdy boots and heavy pack
His mission plain: to drive away
This island's sense of naked shame
But quickly it became quite clear
Some did not like his naked rear
They did not think it good enough
A rambler rambling in the buff
And shouted from behind the door
A naked man, call in the law!
Imagine if a child should see
This shocking lack of dignity
And then be scarred and turn to drugs
And end up on an Afghan rug
Cavorting naked in a pile
And then become a paedophile!
The judge declared, “This can’t go on
The man must put some Y-fronts on
And if he won’t then he must pay
Take him down for twenty days”
In Portfield prison, Inverness
They could not make Rambler dress
So threw him into solitary
But could not take his dignity
Five months in jail he was waylaid
Diverted from his nude crusade
When they finally set him free
He strode away in naked glee
Continuing his rustic route
Clad only in his birthday suit
To John O'Groats he made his way
One windy January day
And there he stood at journey's end
Himself he tried not to defend
“I may have caused some small alarm
But not committed any harm
My body it is part of me
There is no shame just dignity”
God bless you naked rambler
God bless your hairy arse
And god bless the foolish tools of law
That tried to block your path.
How Freakin’ Zeitgeist Are You is the definitive collection of Murray Lachlan Young’s poems from 1994 to the present day. Anyone who has watched or listened to Murray perform will recognise the range of his work, from whimsical comedy to darker pieces through satire, cosmology and metaphysics. His incurable addiction to rhyme is evident from the first page and the whole collection is designed to be read aloud and shared with friends.
So open it up, find the beat and enter the strange and marvellous world of Murray Lachlan Young.
Contemplating growing a beard?
You want a beard you need a beard
You’ve seen what beards can do
The confidence, the joie de vivre
But which beard is for you?
French fork, Chin puff?
Cheeky Latin wedge?
Soul patch, Neck muff?
Thick bucolic hedge?
Intellectual goatee beard?
Cultivate the shrub
Nautical, or boaty beard?
Join the beardy club
Surfy beard or folky beard?
Fluffy pubic fuzz?
Black, blond, ginger beard?
Find the beardy buzz.
Meet up with your beardy friends
In a beardy bar
Talk about a beardy band
Name a beardy star
Scratch a little, stroke a little
Stroke a little more
Twist and preen and plump and prod
Yes, that’s what beards are for
Look into the mirror
See what you can do
Who’s that bushy beardy bear?
That beardy bear is you!
Masculine believable
Trustworthy and fun
Wholesome, wise yet vulnerable
Oh feel what you’ve become
Now customise, accessorise
Yes, strike a beardy theme
A pipe? Perhaps, a Breton shirt?
Go on; go on, some skinny jeans
Now out, out, out into the world
And execute your bearded plan
Embrace your bearded destiny
Become a bearded man!
How freakin Zeitgeist are you?
Are you local, organic, animal friendly?
Fairly traded, into bondage and Pilates, are you bendy?
Near the juice bar, with your iPad?
In your high tops, are you cool Dad?
Aiawaskaor Iboga?
Shivananda for your Yoga?
Are you Linked in, are you Beebo?
On your blog spot, drinking Miso?
Are you fluid, are you flexi?
Is your lifestyle well connected?
Are you posting, multi platform?
Is it Beijing that you’re back from?
Are you aware of cultural demographic shifts?
And interconnected network trends?
Yet aware of the difference in the new catagorisations?
In the world of us and those whom we call followers and friends?
Are you aware of mass customization and the 121 future?
And how black cabbage and Spanish cider fit with these developmental rules?
And that: 360 record deals
iPods as DJ decks
And rappers rapping about premium alcohol brands
Is now considered passé and deeply uncool?
Do you have an allotment?
And a bell tent, have you got one?
At a festi, set in parkland?
With a recycled wristband?
Are you surfing the eclectic?
Are you solar and electric?
Funky lifestyle, do you live one?
Or a monky's, could you give one?
So I guess what I’m kinda asking
While I’m kinda multi tasking
Is how freakin Zeitgeist are you?
Mundane Poem #1
This poem is not very interesting
It has, pauses
Where there, should be none
It is not deep and meaningful in any, respect
It is not very, clever and not that much, fun
This poem is purposefully, dreary,
Its desire is to be everyday, commonplace and dull.
And just incase it isn’t, monotonous, enough
This poem will now, wander into a lull
Of: boring, and unexciting ordinariness
And it will stay there for a while
While we all sit with the humdrum reality
Of its unexcitingness
Realising that it has lost focus
Its rhyme scheme it no longer functioning
This is not an attempt to be clever
It’s not even an attempt to prove that
Life can’t be interesting all the time
It is not attempting to say anything about anything
Really
Why would it want to do that?
For this poem is completely mundane
And that’s it.
Its finished, now.
If you met a famous person (What would you say?)
What would you say if you met a famous person?
A really famous person
I mean a card carrying
Really, really, properly famous person
Just you and them
and their vast and gleaming timepiece
In solid white gold with a platinum twist
Encrusted in diamonds and chronographic complications
As big a as a haddock adorning their wrist
And their tattooed eyelids and their Liposuction
And their cunningly holistic moisturizer
Reaped from the beard of a rare mountain goat
By their, disturbingly knowing looking, astrological advisor
What would you say, what would you do?
As you looked at them and they-
Lowered those shades (you could never afford)
And through lightly tinted contact lenses looked back at you
And spoke of conscious clarity, humility and charity
And they (broke down in tears and) told you that fame was (the dominion of madness cruelly reserved) for the unlucky few
And then took you into their confidence, regarding their audience with the Dali Lama
How he helped them see that they were no different than me or you.
What would you say?
What would you say?
Would you stand would you sit?
Would you kneel would you pray?
In that moment, that window, that second they had free...
'....Did you know the clocks are going forward? Or is it back? Its always so difficult to remember! I always get it wrong! I'm such an idiot! I'm so stupid! honestly!
Can I have your autograph please?’
Just here, on my arm, though of course, you understand..
...it’s actually not for me,
Its for someone else’
God bless the naked Rambler
God bless the naked Rambler
God bless his naked plan
God bless that solo nudist
And his brave bare-bottomed stand
Lands end to Newbury, Offas Dyke
Buxton Pennines on to Hawick
Across the Firth of Forth he strode
To John O'Groats the final road
Shaggy beard, safari hat
Sturdy boots and heavy pack
His mission plain: to drive away
This island's sense of naked shame
But quickly it became quite clear
Some did not like his naked rear
They did not think it good enough
A rambler rambling in the buff
And shouted from behind the door
A naked man, call in the law!
Imagine if a child should see
This shocking lack of dignity
And then be scarred and turn to drugs
And end up on an Afghan rug
Cavorting naked in a pile
And then become a paedophile!
The judge declared, “This can’t go on
The man must put some Y-fronts on
And if he won’t then he must pay
Take him down for twenty days”
In Portfield prison, Inverness
They could not make Rambler dress
So threw him into solitary
But could not take his dignity
Five months in jail he was waylaid
Diverted from his nude crusade
When they finally set him free
He strode away in naked glee
Continuing his rustic route
Clad only in his birthday suit
To John O'Groats he made his way
One windy January day
And there he stood at journey's end
Himself he tried not to defend
“I may have caused some small alarm
But not committed any harm
My body it is part of me
There is no shame just dignity”
God bless you naked rambler
God bless your hairy arse
And god bless the foolish tools of law
That tried to block your path.
Simply brilliant – hysterically funny and strangely moving
