Tuesday, November 18, 2014

Mostly black keys


I play in the key of E
I only just learnt recently
what that kind of means
it sounds sad
I'm not sure
whether that's a musicology rule
or a rule in me
I loop my forty second sad E melody
the amplifier eases it into the floor boards
sorrowfully

doo
doo
dee
doo
doo
du, du

I lay on my back on the floorboards
woven rug under me catching
it eases into me too
I close my eyes
satisfied with my
depression creation

doo
doo
dee
doo
doo
du, du

I am my own god, though not in my words
I am my own devil, though not in my words
for now
those I know, things i've seen
exist only in my melody

doo
doo
dee
doo
doo
du, du


the colour of triangle
that wouldn't be possible physically
makes perfect sense within my melody
my infected finger
my pulsing headache
I did them to myself
accidentally on purpose

doo
doo
dee
doo
doo
du, du

I re-watch my fleshy film strip
falls, fights, robberies,
hyper-super-extra-terrestrials
tactile-bulky-grey-date-in-time
blank-by-gin-car
fluorescent-by-mushroom-on-foot
fluff and dust, colourless not grey
not blank, just lots of it

doo
doo
dee
doo
doo
du, du

her eyes, his eyes
her briefs, his undies
within pop teenage shame
to adult hooded mess
shanking with pens
wanking with words
images mere porn
free range eggs
within range guilt felt
spotlight felt just isn't felt
essential oils
I don't remember how they smelt
is memory essential
lavender for sleep
I don't remember what I dreamt on the third
thyme for concentration
I can't remember that epiphany at three


doo
doo
dee
doo
doo
du, du

purple fucking bindii weed in my purple fucking toe
awkward eye contact / pass me off as rude
wishes it to not be such a statement to be nude
lovely fucking hippie please remember the fifties too
t-shirts
stink with me
so I can stink alone too

doo
doo
dee
doo
doo
du, du

berroca in the sign of cancer
i'll chew the whole tube
harmonica in the key of D
you don't make sense to E
kid on trumpet downstairs
you doo, doo, dee, doo, doo, du, du
loop pedal battery death
and E fades
and kid on trumpet stays
blerp
be
derp
rode on through
my depression creation

Thursday, June 26, 2014

Rough sketches of some music genres: drunk dances devised by a drunk, questions- problems- solutions



Russian classical
    problem- problem- problem- problem- PROBLEM- SOLUTION! O SOLUTION- problem- problem- ah solution

Jazz
    question- question- question- question- question- question- 
ooo what a question-question- question- question

Reggae
    solution- solution- solution- solution- solution- solution- solution- solution- solution- solution- solution- solution- solution- solution

Blues
    O no solution- solution- O no no solution- solution- O no no no solution- solution- O no no no no no solution- solution

Dub Step
    problem- problem- problem- problem- problem- problem- 
is that a solution coming? -problem- problem- problem

Funk
    problem? - solution - problem? - solution - problem? - solution- solution- solution- solution- solution- solution- solution

Rock 'n' Roll
    problem- fuck solutions- problem- fuck solutions- problem- 
I don't give a fuck if there are any solutions- problem- fuck solutions

Pop
   no problems- no questions- no solutions

Electronica
    is this a question or solution- I guess that's a question in itself- question

Hip Hop
    solutions all round motherfucker

Sunday, May 25, 2014

-The only thing sadder than crying
is being aware of not being able to-

he tells himself,
stuck in a glare pointed out into the wet street,
as raindrops roll down the window pane before his face.
He wishes the sky to be his eyes
and the window pane his cheeks
the wet road his feet

he wishes he was slightly more animal
for want of pure fear
rather than hatred of whom he fears
he'd rather nip at scarce blades of grass
In the deathly heat
than sleep on heaps of hay in a dark
comfortable cave
he'd rather wear his hooves to the bone
than to decide the best brand of shoe glue
or which word he can use for
concrete
without being sued or screwed into
he'd rather read the information of the skies
with naïve perceptions
of gods, Capricorns and light beings
than with what he is now forced to consider as
scientific, gaseous and the yet to be defined
He is forced to walk fifty centimetres
above the mud of the mangroves,
along the board walk, pretending.
Just as he is forced to walk an inch above the one he loves,
pretending
pretending to be a good man
when good men don't exist
pretending to have no lips
because good men don't try to kiss

burnt out buildings seem more real
when he's looking for a place to live
sleeping shirtless on doorsteps seems more real
than finding a job to wake up to,
when the morning suits step on by sweating gel and perfume
-real- is a human word and so it must be that which he can touch
he believes
but he knows there exists a real beyond human touch
a real that has not yet been copy written
and crying is not necessary there
and awareness is worth the same
as the price of making sense
which comes to a total of nothing
your change being everything
and the ninety ninth sense

he's not concerned with appealing to
or marching with
the masses
even if that mass is a minority
even if that mass is thought to have beautiful fur

they cry together
in anger together
as they warn each other of impeding doom
he prefers the doom of his own solitude
and the hole of admitting it
he doesn't expect anyone to throw him a shovel
but wishes some one would all the same

-the only thing worse than digging yourself into a hole
is denying the hole is a grave.-

Saturday, May 10, 2014

Monday, April 7, 2014