deepundergroundpoetry.com
school girls on speed
In drugs and death we drown ourselves
Some advertisement for the young and living
The horrors of sleep lie heavy on me
If I don’t chase you up, I never settle
On the road I chase a thousand fantasies
Along neon strips of riding joy and beer caps
Summarise your love up in a play-list and learn it in your sleep
To seduce the wise or heady for whom you’re daydreaming sonny
Understand jazz when you’re young and the blues won’t drag you down
Make friends in a crowd and take them home
Don’t listen to the cool kids, jammy will never learn, watch him tire of the town
The bass line is always there baby
Feel it kick and scream while you try to hold it down
Time erupts around your essence on the flip side
You’re there, and don’t he just know it
Give it to them all and speak of better worlds where we all wear ball gowns
But just can’t help our urge to jive and jitter-bug jutter like school girls on speed
Some advertisement for the young and living
The horrors of sleep lie heavy on me
If I don’t chase you up, I never settle
On the road I chase a thousand fantasies
Along neon strips of riding joy and beer caps
Summarise your love up in a play-list and learn it in your sleep
To seduce the wise or heady for whom you’re daydreaming sonny
Understand jazz when you’re young and the blues won’t drag you down
Make friends in a crowd and take them home
Don’t listen to the cool kids, jammy will never learn, watch him tire of the town
The bass line is always there baby
Feel it kick and scream while you try to hold it down
Time erupts around your essence on the flip side
You’re there, and don’t he just know it
Give it to them all and speak of better worlds where we all wear ball gowns
But just can’t help our urge to jive and jitter-bug jutter like school girls on speed
Published 13th Sep 2010
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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19th Jan 2013 4:19pm
In drugs and death we drown ourselves
Some advertisement for the young and living
Risk is the interjection of life that's due.
Miss what you don't question before deciding it's true.
The horrors of sleep lie heavy on me
If I don’t chase you up, I never settle
What more seeps when curtains drop?
Before Lethe is blurting pops. Like magma has...
To burst through. Pops into four and four. To the bar? Sizzling a riddle in early rock. Thus far your poem whirls. A mind marred for a tapestry unfurled? At core to keep the horrors of sleep lie heavy on those steady to keep the levy from bursting.
But still the dream-stream seeps!
On the road I chase a thousand fantasies
(Where this unfolds for me. You raise pounding answers and sprees)
Along neon strips of riding joy and beer caps
Summarise your love up in a play-list and learn it in your sleep
Keep on trip and vibing and I employ to be near to rap.
No disguise from below to look above. It's just the way of seeing blue eternal behind the face that burns slow when changing every layer deep.
Also leaves a clean... ...backprint on a bed of leaves.
To seduce the wise or heady for whom you’re daydreaming sonny
Understand jazz when you’re young and the blues won’t drag you down
Through to introduce with no lies but steady with sunrays. Reams that run and stay funny.
A wily playlist to come undone to Miles Davis when you're still a youngun. But no way to miss, because Chaos won't lay off. And the basis of every wishlist is to make the trip.
What's behind the final door like some miner's score? Let it be a finder's war. Clearing the way in, because miracles come with mayhem. Lay those days within new visions. Jazz catches and gasps. A habit to laugh and blast, but popping obstacles in advance? To improv Jazz is impossible to dance. And so with every slip and quip is another trip. The real bliss in Jazz's kiss!
Beyond switching true to be smitten true to what's in listening to...
...quickening blues like M. Davis's "Bitches Brew."
...Extending the playlist through and through to bless. The blues is a release, a net. But it catches too many who invest, and keeps their best.
A high cost to rock to the craggy sound when blues drags so many down. But on it and steady, a bluesman needs to be quick.
Like Tom Petty matching wits with Stevie Nicks. "Stop Dragging My Heart Around". The blues lent more than craggy art and sound, but mags. Full clips to astound. Churning like whiskey, earning every round. Burning wary, whole towns like Carrie, all alone.
And returning, not to atone, but be carried home.
At this point I love your poem Ms. Beck. I drown in respect. Your work is fucking dangerous!
Make friends in a crowd and take them home
Don’t listen to the cool kids, jammy will never learn, watch him tire of the town
The bass line is always there baby
Feel it kick and scream while you try to hold it down
The reading picks up speed, and is just set to run. Blessed to stun for your momentum, as it's needing to be released.
So the knees turn and the the night swerves. Right curves. It gets tight, robbing the audience of their own audio-imagination. Split like creation.
Feels like listening to Raveonettes while speeding past cops on the left. The rhyme swerves though to stay balanced it feels.
The timing serves your talent, keeps me back on heels. It's a fine unwinding track to relax and just ... allow your magic wax to take form and reveal.
Time erupts around your essence on the flip side
You’re there, and don’t he just know it
Give it to them all and speak of better worlds where we all wear ball gowns
But just can’t help our urge to jive and jitter-bug jutter like school girls on speed
Ohhhhhhhh.... your blessed frets abound! You bombed this in the first round and never let down!
It's a dirty, nerdy, disturbed tactic yo...
Where you picked up with a quickening of the imago in your flow at the last round to erupt!
That kind of sudden blow open the window move always astounds to disrupt. Leave 'em wanting more, ignore the doors and leave the location like a ghost. Feeding their imagination as you go. On this tactic your magic works massive better than most!
I am moved.
(Oh and everyone who ever said the 50's were an innocent time really need to learn what the fuck "JIVE" really meant!)
Some advertisement for the young and living
Risk is the interjection of life that's due.
Miss what you don't question before deciding it's true.
The horrors of sleep lie heavy on me
If I don’t chase you up, I never settle
What more seeps when curtains drop?
Before Lethe is blurting pops. Like magma has...
To burst through. Pops into four and four. To the bar? Sizzling a riddle in early rock. Thus far your poem whirls. A mind marred for a tapestry unfurled? At core to keep the horrors of sleep lie heavy on those steady to keep the levy from bursting.
But still the dream-stream seeps!
On the road I chase a thousand fantasies
(Where this unfolds for me. You raise pounding answers and sprees)
Along neon strips of riding joy and beer caps
Summarise your love up in a play-list and learn it in your sleep
Keep on trip and vibing and I employ to be near to rap.
No disguise from below to look above. It's just the way of seeing blue eternal behind the face that burns slow when changing every layer deep.
Also leaves a clean... ...backprint on a bed of leaves.
To seduce the wise or heady for whom you’re daydreaming sonny
Understand jazz when you’re young and the blues won’t drag you down
Through to introduce with no lies but steady with sunrays. Reams that run and stay funny.
A wily playlist to come undone to Miles Davis when you're still a youngun. But no way to miss, because Chaos won't lay off. And the basis of every wishlist is to make the trip.
What's behind the final door like some miner's score? Let it be a finder's war. Clearing the way in, because miracles come with mayhem. Lay those days within new visions. Jazz catches and gasps. A habit to laugh and blast, but popping obstacles in advance? To improv Jazz is impossible to dance. And so with every slip and quip is another trip. The real bliss in Jazz's kiss!
Beyond switching true to be smitten true to what's in listening to...
...quickening blues like M. Davis's "Bitches Brew."
...Extending the playlist through and through to bless. The blues is a release, a net. But it catches too many who invest, and keeps their best.
A high cost to rock to the craggy sound when blues drags so many down. But on it and steady, a bluesman needs to be quick.
Like Tom Petty matching wits with Stevie Nicks. "Stop Dragging My Heart Around". The blues lent more than craggy art and sound, but mags. Full clips to astound. Churning like whiskey, earning every round. Burning wary, whole towns like Carrie, all alone.
And returning, not to atone, but be carried home.
At this point I love your poem Ms. Beck. I drown in respect. Your work is fucking dangerous!
Make friends in a crowd and take them home
Don’t listen to the cool kids, jammy will never learn, watch him tire of the town
The bass line is always there baby
Feel it kick and scream while you try to hold it down
The reading picks up speed, and is just set to run. Blessed to stun for your momentum, as it's needing to be released.
So the knees turn and the the night swerves. Right curves. It gets tight, robbing the audience of their own audio-imagination. Split like creation.
Feels like listening to Raveonettes while speeding past cops on the left. The rhyme swerves though to stay balanced it feels.
The timing serves your talent, keeps me back on heels. It's a fine unwinding track to relax and just ... allow your magic wax to take form and reveal.
Time erupts around your essence on the flip side
You’re there, and don’t he just know it
Give it to them all and speak of better worlds where we all wear ball gowns
But just can’t help our urge to jive and jitter-bug jutter like school girls on speed
Ohhhhhhhh.... your blessed frets abound! You bombed this in the first round and never let down!
It's a dirty, nerdy, disturbed tactic yo...
Where you picked up with a quickening of the imago in your flow at the last round to erupt!
That kind of sudden blow open the window move always astounds to disrupt. Leave 'em wanting more, ignore the doors and leave the location like a ghost. Feeding their imagination as you go. On this tactic your magic works massive better than most!
I am moved.
(Oh and everyone who ever said the 50's were an innocent time really need to learn what the fuck "JIVE" really meant!)
