Click on the Bates Motel sign for a RealAudio 14.4 22kHz
rendering of Renee Gromacki's pro recitation...consider it a taste...and only a taste of
the final CD version. It goes 9.25 minutes.
Enjoy, there's more to come.Mother Protects Me, from the Shadows
Click on the Bates Motel sign for a RealAudio 14.4 22kHz
rendering of Renee Gromacki's pro recitation...consider it a taste...and only a taste of
the final CD version. It goes 9.25 minutes.
Enjoy, there's more to come.
I've lived on the point of this hill for sixty years. Well,
Over that time, I've seen this town and my business slide into hell.
You don't want to tell me,
That the Devil's gone and left the territory.
Just from this window, I'll show you a hundred sluts.
Just swinging their bikini tanned little butts
To trap the only good Christian sons in this dried up nowhere.
But mind me, you can take your blind eye and sink with Beelzebub for all I care!
I've raised me a son who does what makes his Mama proud.
He checks them in, but then those sluts are not going back to their crowd!
I am just the Lord's old servant,
Cleansing those from the Christian Way deviant.
That last whore in here, she tried,
But choking on her own God-given blood was the way she died.
***
Mama sat, and gently rocked, as neon flickered shadows crossed her aged face.
As the cars sped by the local business cutoff, Mama felt the freeway throb and pace .
She still liked the truckers to stop at her motel, but not the new breed of female,
The new business hussy that leaves her kids at home, that hussy for sale.
Their language was worse than the truckers ever was.
And their dresses were designed to trap, and set rooms abuzz.
But most customers were sidetracked by the bypass expressway long ago,
And the bitterness of the discarded made Mama see the Hell flames below.
But still came the occasional desperate customer keeping the place alive.
You worked when they came, often late, often early. Not just nine to five.
It was mainly in the darkest hours that the road dumped them straggling in.
The ring of the counter bell, the run down the hill, the scrawl of the register pen.
Directions and baggage hauled by a good son, a boy with a man's deep sound,
Who took charge when his Mama couldn't be around.
Her Norman hadn't drunk liquor. Her Norman hadn't ever smoked. This was true.
If Mama'd ever caught him, would be his own birth he'd rue.
And she made sure he didn't run with sluts. This was her ruling.
She kept her boy's attention deeply in the Bible's teaching and schooling.
And she kept her guard on Norman's growing interest
In succumbing to woman temptation and failing the Lord's test.
Norman knew Mama's rules.
He didn't need any of their Bible schools.
Norman knew the devil's guises.
Norman knew the Devil's many shapes and sizes.
Mama had seen to the education of her boy.
The sluts were the ploy of one who would entrap the youth
With the worldly transformation of the Truth.
Pain was God's way,
And mama knew pain where she lay.
Though her heart was stopped for many a month now,
Thanks to Norman, Mama could stay even closer with him anyhow.
There's a spirit that takes its way with the living
When they believe its best to accept the giving
Of everlasting life and Holy Scripture Writ.
You don't question going the full measure against the Devil's pit.
***
Mama knew it was the painted ones' style
To lay-about and entice the Good to crawl the rock-hard mile.
When they revealed their skin. They revealed their plan.
Taking the sons. Humbling, then destroying the man.
No devil woman's touch will bring corruption to her Norman's door
While mama's watching the store…
For God's gift of Norman, a truly, dutiful son
Is Mama's to raise up a stalwart Devil fighting Christian soldier, a duty never over and done.
The painted ones come in parades of nakedness and unholy colors.
This one a whore. This one just an example of the others.
Mama saw the car pull up, and Norman run to the door.
This was another of them, and there'd be more.
There was only a Mother's love to guide
As her son looked on the painted one's sin of pride.
A sin so large among many when you're the Devil's own tool.
A sin so large when you think the victim's just another fool.
There's a limit to the souls you can steal
With a glance and a sinful body that isn't even real.
There's a protection in a Mother's point of view,
That wins against the Devil while giving the game its due.
The dress is long to hide the axe.
Taking time to survey the facts…
The devil is now an unclothed witch.
You don't toy with the magnetism of the smell of the Bitch.
There's lust and heat,
When the devil's on to a soul to entreat.
Mama knows you kill it when it least expects…
Before the bitch suspects, before the Evil One detects.
There's another Power at work, a stronger Force
From an untiring, uncompromising Holy Source.
The strength of the arm that raises the weapon
Comes from God's Will be done!
You don't take your clothes off in front of me and shower,
Without the wrath of the Love of Christ's power!
The blood runs in circles, around, then down the drain.
The useless body of the Devil's disciple is screaming its pain.
But it isn't the pain of the axe's blows…
It's the spiritual warfare of a Mother's love for a boy that knows
The difference between Christ's gift, and the Devil's lure,
The painted icon from the Christ possessed and pure.
***
Mama watches from the shadows, she's always been there, hovering…
As the wicked one sheds the clothing and fancy, evil covering.
Norman watches from the shadows, seeing the flesh and feeling its heat and lure.
He knows it's mama that has the cure.
The steaming shower sends out its mist, hot and wet.
Mama's hands, no…Norman's hands, start to sweat.
The woman approaches the tub
Drops the towel, and absent thought, enters and starts to rub
A tender thigh leaving a languid, soapy froth.
It's time, Norman. You're the Servant of the Holy Cloth.
Raise that axe.
STOP HER IN HER DEVIL'S TRACKS!
***
A son does what he must
To keep his Mama's soul from turning to dust.
And if it takes the blood of others to keep her here,
She'll live forever if only in the mirror.
Making him, her,
And her, him.
Now gently rock and sleep, Mama, the danger's gone.
Christ's in His Heaven, and the Devil's lost another slattern pawn.
Evan Myquest
August, 1997
Copyright 1997 MMW audio version Copyright Dec 1997 MMW
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