Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
TR3F1LD Apr 25
in better times, I remember I
began getting quite arrested, like
a ****** susp., by
Harmonía, which keeps serving
to this day as a source of both psychic sunlight
and real enjoyment (sometimes)
which is somewhat funny co[ɑ]mbined
with the fact it was a summer month I
started getting more in—volved in thI̲s diversion
summer twenty fourteen
which means she's something I have bE̲E̲n exploring
for... um... already more than
a decade, like rotten souls of autocratic rogues
["decayed"]
but it's a mite bigger story
given the fA̲ct I'd known
and been sort of into her some years before then
she can be so diverse, from natural
to artificial & including parts of both
plenty of heartbeat types & tempos
and vibes: from nice & mellow
to harsh & evil, from bright to dismal
from refined & regal to energized & feral
she can pep up automotive-buzz-replete strolls
she's there for you in times you feel low
and any kind of insult is something she won't
ever do, unlike a lo[ɑ]t of people; I can hardly be called
jolly, like a harlequin lo[ɑ]cked within walls
of a go[ɑ]ddamn mental
["Harley Quinn"; "Gotham"]
asylum, but I'm undisputably
glad there was an o[ɑ]pportunity
for me to be introduced to her
and all the gO̲O̲d 'bout her cited through the verse
is why I'm glued to her, like a woman's fourth
point of contact
["glutes o' her"]
not a single day of mine is thrO̲U̲gh sans her
but if you think I'm alluding to[—]wards
a close other, you have sure
misunderstood the verse (some of it)
[Unlike Pluto has a tune being, as it's stated by him, "a love song as a metaphor for alcoholism"]
[it's called "Ethel", which is a homophone for "ethyl"]
————————————————————————————————
for I'm not one with a people-oriented frame
of mind, but a music nerd
with a broad extent of taste
for music, but one whO̲ prefers
mostly middle-paced
and boomy forms
of it, such as midtempo bass
midtechno, EDM glitch hop, moombahcore
drift phonk "*******", like a *****'s brain
moombahton, & 2000s reggaeton
but some years ago, when old & new reports
of injustices of the human world
next to the discontent of daily adult-hood were serv—
—ing as ****** fuel in terms
of the ignition of the stupid urge
to get something (boo!) destroyed
to bring against injustice-contributing jerks retribution earned
a craze for more dark-sounding, brutal sorts
of tunes was formed as a substitution for
destruction, like any amusement's purp.
["distraction"; "purpose"]
along with music, another gO̲O̲d means for
getting through the murk
has been, like when a whip's coming thrO̲U̲gh keen curves
sideways with its wheels sliding through the course
of it, creative writing, putting words (mislead)
["creative riding"; "ᵖᵤᵗᵢⁿ words"]
into this seductive-looking form (indeed)
————————————————————————————————
and I really was thinking after the last-done work
(that killing joke tale)
that I won't manage to craft one more (usual thoughts)
took 3 & a half months burned (for the most part)
and the thought of o[ɑ]bligation to wha[ʌ]t's been saving
me from ending up in a darker place in
order to undertake an—other rhyme creation
(hopefully not the last one, but I can't be sure)
"Harmonía ("obliged" rhymefall)" by TR3F1LD (TRFLD) is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (to view a copy of this license, visit creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/4.0)
B C Stan Apr 24
A thing is a thing, isn’t a thing
What makes a thing, a thing?
Is a thing, a thing because
We call it
A thing?

What then of things that
Haven’t found a name?
Does discovery make
A thing?
Then who made us
A thing
Can a thing
Make a thing a thing?

Light is a thing
I see it
Fragrance is a thing
I smell it
Music is a thing
I hear it

Dark is a thing
No thing
Is not having a thing make
A thing?
is a no thing, a thing?

Is
Love
A thing?
Damocles Apr 22
Devil in your eyes
Devils always lie
Keep your hands seated to the side
Don’t you dare come close unless you’re willing to die

Keep away
Walk away
Stay far from me

Demon on your tongue
****** likes it rough,
Red flags paper the verdant eyes
And I’m fading into madness
Bullseyes locked onto the danger

Keep away,
Walk away,
Stay away from me?

Secrets in serpent tongues
Slithering in your grassy knolls
Desperate to assassinate my love
I remain bulletproof,
Reading your ritual tomes,
Sacrifice your dignity for a little notice
Did that attention give you all you ever wanted?
When you’re knee deep in your bile and sick?

Keep away,
Walk away,
Stay far away from me
Go there, now, away from me.
something i write messing with drum and bass lines in garageband and fiddling on the guitar
Blues on Monday.
The cats run to me
for pieces of chicken,
and a little B.B. King.

Blues on Tuesday.
I look in the yard for
rubies, and all I find are
hard-boiled eggs.
Pagans hid them in the
grass during their
Eostre festival.

Blues on Wednesday.
Muddy watered coffee.
I ain't even getting out of
this bed.

Thursday's blues bring
rain and that old
Robert Johnson.
**** the crossroads and
all those poison *******.
Grab Blind Lemon and help
him to the campfire.

Hey, Sonny Boy, get that
mouth harp out and start to
wailing.
Those fat frogs are hopping
around for them snakes at
the Friday barn dance.

Saturday is finally here.
Buddy Guy and
John Lee ****** burning up
that devils note--the flat five.
You know you sold your soul.
Here comes Lightning.

Better take Sunday off, we need
some churching up.
Do some praying before we
all go to hell.
Check out https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CEeNcBC_mnM  Thomas W. Case reads from his recently published books on his YouTube channel.
Alex McQuate Apr 21
Sit here on this rocky cliff precipice,
Listening to this American woman play with this French orchestra,
Directed by an Italian man,
Jamming out to scraps that were written by a Jewish man in '67,
Making such a beautiful sound wave that bowls me over in it's benediction,
Over and Over,
And Over again,
Carry me to sea and drown me again.
Rhiannon Giddens with the L'Orchestre Symphonique De Bretagne- Spanish Mary ( Check out how this song got made, it's quite a cool tale)
Juno Apr 19
Nothing screams freedom,
- like wild horses
Running in the distance-
The setting sun,
Shining on them,
Reveling their beauty,
I wish to be as free as them,
And I hope to see them one day-
So I can feel that freedom,
Even if only for a short moment

-JJ
18/04/25
A short one inspired from The Rolling Stones’ ‘Wild horses’ :)
Izan Almira Apr 17
I wanna make ****** songs
to sing my poetry
but I can't find any chords
that match my symphony.

So spread your wings
and give me creativity,
cause all I need
is inspiration;
an epiphany.

Play a few chords
on your guitar.
Please,
sing to me.

I’ll always be thankful
for the embrace
your words tuck me in.

Maybe someday,
I’ll be the one behind
the mic
singing
poetry.
My grandfather used to say that 'Music was the new poetry'. I sometimes wish I could play an instrument and join it.
Mica Wood Apr 17
A boy frolics in a field of forget-me-nots
to the song in his heart.
Spinning, spinning, spinning…
until he falls in love with the music.

Rolling down hills to rolling up joints
and picking up a guitar.
The music crescendos…
His life has just begun.

The guitar is played daily.
Sitting on the front stoop,
amplifier plugged in—
a concert for the block.

Time continues to tick.
Life is getting hard.
The guitar is forsaken
just when he needs it most.

Making music no longer,
he turns to substance.
Spinning, spinning, spinning
out of control.

He needs the pain
to go away.
Needles at night
and sleep by day.

The man is tired
and lonely
as the endless darkness
inside him.

When the veil between worlds is thinnest
the man slips away
and finally
he finds his peace.
My brother overdosed on Day of the Dead.
d m Apr 13
(for Sony WM-D6C, b.1982)

ohgod(yourplasticcradle    cradles  
        my earbones)  
            like moons hum-bent on  
                        bleeding symphony—

i unlatch  
       your orange foam silence  
                    (click)—
              and all my inside-shadows  
      reverse     direction—

    tell me again how  
  side B  
             aches so slowly.  

                (spool me, boy)

      —my tongue a wiretap  
         to your cassette soul  
      magneticmurmur-melting  
              where my pulse = ferroxide (™)

                           (does the chrome remember?)

         i DO.  
                    & you  
                  (your belly-button = play)  
               & me  
          (my softwound = record)

        in          synchro-   synchro-    
                    whispermode    you    
         ­              feed my  
              dirtystatic    

like  
a  
secret  
        n­ot meant for  
                        humans

(i         rewind myself  
        into your guts—)

                      stop.  
          [pause]     fingerrested  
        on your orange HALO dial  

             —is this lust or  
                         stereo calibration?

   (i **** in A440, you moan in dolbyC)

ohwalkman,  
    my little electric priest,  
               absolve me:  
                 i fastforward
                 into you  
            until          hiss.  

& we  

(                      eject  
      like lovers
                  never recorded  
                                but always  
                                              replayed).­
Next page