beersalt
Well-known member
Here are a few works of mine from the last 6 months*
I decided to post audio, as well as finished write-ups for those who have a personal preference for one, or the other. Also, I'm quite curious as to any of your own feelings in regards to the differences in media. If the same message/rythm is conveyed well in both types, or you like the write up better than the spoken word, because of yadda, yadda.. Etc.
Any constructive criticism is appreciated, and welcomed !
*
~Mind Goo~
Upchuck of squeamish coil friend
You are hot,
And cooling.
I
am curling;
into
unbewildered dread
The house
The weed
The walls
I fold, and carry boxes
He guided the man to use his body as support, as he wiggle with the toddle of over indulged drunkenness
"Hold me, like I'm a box"
People these days..
Only boxes have things in them.
Not bodies,
Boxes.
I write
in form of
weird mildue
The aroma appeared once the other foul smells ceased..
Now,
holding thee;
electric device of annoyance,
yet cataclysmic portal emminating creative mind stimuli
From the making,
And for myself
This clash of time is fucking with me..
.Evolutionarily diseased.
*
~E-nuff~
Can you see what is happening to me?
In the array of mist,
Hyperbolic anomaly.
metamorphosis of disarray
All
searching
for/ something..
Striking to
not allow past traumas to taint the sweet treat finally obtained from such patience.
That dance we call
avoidance.
Passive aggression
will leave you bleeding
on the ground
But, come-on
Equal delirium has gotsta happen
As we love so dearly..
For you, what is it?
*Intrinsic scoff*
-Keep striving-
hope to once hear the tone/
of voice,
and choice
of wording
that makes the cut
Deep
Into the mutter-
Of/
"Enough."
*
~Greyhound vibe~
Another bus ride, full of tracing rail lines
And blue eyes taking in the greenery
Always seems to be outta season when
Reaping the place I was born with these boots on..
Every part of my knowing hit the trash can
Put them chips on the table and left 'em
Hardly looked back, and when such happens
I slap that hand
And keep shedding all of this
Unnecessary bull-shit.
Riding amidst the tainted air molecules..
Some worse than others.
Idea's seep away with the wet paint on
The train bridge..
Fresh, to get rid of old.
Oh so fresh..
Oh so new
Yet, already been experienced.
This hardship, this love, this experiment.
Feelings of inspiration.
They all become stagnant,
Just like flies will always lay their eggs in poop.
The pond ices over, step carefully.
Break through, laugh, and walk somewhere else with wet feet.
These weed sammies be affectin' me..
1. And I want to be engrassed in moss
Along with the boulders that fall apart.
All of these circles cease to ever be averted by any
I met a circle once..
We ran into her sign language teacher on the suburban sidewalk next to the blue- scotch tape house,
And I had to explain that she had a brain thing and we needed to get water
But really we needed to start a fire because the mushrooms were seriously taking a hold.
Sunflower was born that day,
But went back into their bud because it was more comforting than facing the rain.
Since then I can't stop meeting them damn circles..
*
I decided to post audio, as well as finished write-ups for those who have a personal preference for one, or the other. Also, I'm quite curious as to any of your own feelings in regards to the differences in media. If the same message/rythm is conveyed well in both types, or you like the write up better than the spoken word, because of yadda, yadda.. Etc.
Any constructive criticism is appreciated, and welcomed !
*
~Mind Goo~
Upchuck of squeamish coil friend
You are hot,
And cooling.
I
am curling;
into
unbewildered dread
The house
The weed
The walls
I fold, and carry boxes
He guided the man to use his body as support, as he wiggle with the toddle of over indulged drunkenness
"Hold me, like I'm a box"
People these days..
Only boxes have things in them.
Not bodies,
Boxes.
I write
in form of
weird mildue
The aroma appeared once the other foul smells ceased..
Now,
holding thee;
electric device of annoyance,
yet cataclysmic portal emminating creative mind stimuli
From the making,
And for myself
This clash of time is fucking with me..
.Evolutionarily diseased.
*
~E-nuff~
Can you see what is happening to me?
In the array of mist,
Hyperbolic anomaly.
metamorphosis of disarray
All
searching
for/ something..
Striking to
not allow past traumas to taint the sweet treat finally obtained from such patience.
That dance we call
avoidance.
Passive aggression
will leave you bleeding
on the ground
But, come-on
Equal delirium has gotsta happen
As we love so dearly..
For you, what is it?
*Intrinsic scoff*
-Keep striving-
hope to once hear the tone/
of voice,
and choice
of wording
that makes the cut
Deep
Into the mutter-
Of/
"Enough."
*
~Greyhound vibe~
Another bus ride, full of tracing rail lines
And blue eyes taking in the greenery
Always seems to be outta season when
Reaping the place I was born with these boots on..
Every part of my knowing hit the trash can
Put them chips on the table and left 'em
Hardly looked back, and when such happens
I slap that hand
And keep shedding all of this
Unnecessary bull-shit.
Riding amidst the tainted air molecules..
Some worse than others.
Idea's seep away with the wet paint on
The train bridge..
Fresh, to get rid of old.
Oh so fresh..
Oh so new
Yet, already been experienced.
This hardship, this love, this experiment.
Feelings of inspiration.
They all become stagnant,
Just like flies will always lay their eggs in poop.
The pond ices over, step carefully.
Break through, laugh, and walk somewhere else with wet feet.
These weed sammies be affectin' me..
1. And I want to be engrassed in moss
Along with the boulders that fall apart.
All of these circles cease to ever be averted by any
I met a circle once..
We ran into her sign language teacher on the suburban sidewalk next to the blue- scotch tape house,
And I had to explain that she had a brain thing and we needed to get water
But really we needed to start a fire because the mushrooms were seriously taking a hold.
Sunflower was born that day,
But went back into their bud because it was more comforting than facing the rain.
Since then I can't stop meeting them damn circles..
*
