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pervasive textures
delineate cold afternoons,
azure shades,
smiling slanted sun rays.
woven by a bow on a six string,
baritone notes,
antediluvian synth -
billowing from a run down
swimming pool fixed with
cozy cushions, cardboarded walls,
mic stands,mixing consoles.
artic vocals,
words with no meaning
interpret surreal landscapes.
eighteen minutes before sunrise,
it is….
Takk.

An indulgent bachanallian weekend, violet somnambulant Nights, trelawny’s tea leaves, docile arpeggios and an uber cool hopelandic tongue;Sigur-Ros.
broken headphones;self chosen indolence.

Post-rock!

disremember

I want to disremember
the voices
onafunky trail.

Rock journalism is about people who cant write, interviewing people who can't talk, for people who can't read.
- Frank Zappa

do you feel the pain,
whilst you are not in the game?
a vicious pain seeps through
overwhelming gradually.
its hard to stay behind
and yet acknowledge smiles
when you are left out.
hear a free verse within....
there is light at the end of the tunnel
godspeed

I am runnin' out of time
I raise the preamp to 12 db
hear the high hat dwindle
there is a drop.
Open the tequila quart
as the riff plays on
and on
feel the skies fly sideways
Dulcet noise?
Vertigo,you mean?
Ill sleep now pretty child

afraid to drop a fix
getafix
blotter art is what i checked
yet i want to see
the maroon gray
the curved "T"
the quaint E minor -
suspended in the air.
call it surreal
but tell me
where is the dealer