Attack of the Bleu Man Group: Expanded Digital EP

by Michael Arnzen

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A studio recording of Arnzen's poem, "Attack of the Bleu Man Group" headlines a gallery of alternative versions, new remixes, live performances and related instrumental tracks (including the first appearance of "The Mime's Grand Finale"... in French!).

This EP is an expanded version of a disc that was originally released in a very limited (under 25 copies) handmade CD-R as a promotional item for The Gorelets Omnibus and The Fridge of the Damned, in 2013, which included only the studio and Morgantown live tracks.

For more weirdness of this nature, please check out AUDIOVILE, recently released in an expanded digital version with over 30 tracks and hidden bonus features, exclusively on Bandcamp:

And to learn more about Arnzen than you ever wanted to know, visit his creative horror website at


released February 26, 2017

Words, art and music (c) by Michael A. Arnzen.

"The Bleu Man Group" originally appears in The Gorelets Omnibus (Raw Dog Screaming Press, 2012). Tracks 1 & 2 originally published in "Attack of the Bleu Man Group" -- a limited EP (approx 25 copies) published March 2013 by Mastication Publications. Track 2 also appears on ArnzenSongs: Raw Dog Screaming Press Party Live @ Morgantown Poets, 2012. Track 7 was first posted to in 2015. All other tracks are original to this Extended Digital EP, published Spring 2017.



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Michael Arnzen Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania

Winner of four Bram Stoker Awards in horror fiction & poetry.

"Arnzen doesn’t just read or recite his stories; he shouts, snarls, whispers and groans his way through (and) adds music to the mix to create an aural landscape of terror like nothing you’ve heard before. Don’t miss this.” --

VISIT AUDIBLE.COM for other horror audiobooks by Michael Arnzen.
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Track Name: Attack of the Bleu Man Group

I saw that a French tribute act was coming to town
called the “Bleu Man Group.”
They spelled it “B-L-E-U” and wore berets,
and that was just wrong,
so I loaded up my pistol and went to the show.

I was expecting no more than postmodern mimes
clowning around on stage in their bright body paint—
acting all bleu.
But I was going to make it more entertaining than that!

I came to make the blue men red!
I wanted to watch their heads pop like cabernet grapes!
I wanted to hear those mimes scream!
I wanted to make the blue men red.

They cavorted on stage with surreal and fantastic instruments.
They danced in sync to weird music
choreographed to unnatural body movements.
They were inhuman.
They had to die.
So I cocked my pistol and took aim…
but then I noticed something odd:
They were blue because they were already dead!

I wanted to make the blue men red!
I wanted to watch their heads pop like champagne corks!
But the blue men were already dead.
Their eyes were yellow orbs, jittering around.
Their flesh was mottled with deoxygenated blood and bruises.
They lunged around like zombie Harpo Marxes,
honking their horns with evil intent.

I steeled myself up and got ready to fire—
but then the guys started eating the audience,
and were coming right at us.
They didn’t say anything because,
well, they were mimes,
but I still knew they hungered after my brain.

I wanted to see those blue men red.
I wanted to make the blue men dead.
So I attacked with my pistol
and shot every last one in the head.

But they weren’t normal zombies.
The gunshots didn’t kill them.
They weren’t very organized without their heads anymore
and, well, they couldn’t really eat anyone anymore either.
They just lumbered around,

They were just dead—

Well…I somehow survived that night.
And as I drove home I kind of admired their art.
In fact, I thought about starting my own tribute act,
so I lifted one of their bloody brain berets to my mouth
and I fed.
Track Name: Le Mime's Grand Finale
Le Mime's Grand Finale
[French translation of unpublished poem, "The Mime's Grand Finale" -- purchase of the album comes with English lyrics.]

J'ai regardé la chute du mime
Du haut de la Tour Eiffel

Son expression sombre

Comme il pawed à sa prison de l'air
Et a couru contre le vent

jusqu'au bout

Son éclat bruyant
Rompu avec la tradition

Avant que ses bras se tordissent aux coudes

Comme s'il nageait
Dans la flaque même qu'il est devenu

jusqu'au bout