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i saw a stranger sing one night.
the memory still lingers
years after the high.
mute swimmer,
a wordsmith from berlin,
brought silence and fire.

he wrote a song
about self-worth and doubt —
the kind we all wrestle,
then bury in our minds.

he’d hear his voice
softly pulsing
with each heartbeat.
instead of leaning
into the dread —
you’ll never make it
you’re worthless —
he’d counter-attack,
asking us
to push them back.

why don’t you
shut
the ****
up.

we’d chant until
it wasn’t about him,
but about us.

why don’t you
shut
the ****
up.

why don’t you
shut
the ****
up.

why don’t you
shut
the ****
up.
this one is about a gig that turned into a shared ritual.
July 6, 2025
mysterie Jun 25
i left behind
a version of me
that night,
at the concert,
on that arena floor --
lighter,
louder,
happier,
and still dancing
in a city
i don't live in.
the short version since the og is super long
date wrote: 26/6
mysterie Jun 25
i never lived there,
but i miss it
like it was home.
like i left something behind --
a version of me
still bundled up
in those hotel sheets,
in the merch line,
and in the way we laughed
way 
too loud
under those
neon blue signs.

it was just a weekend,
but the city held me
like it knew me.
like it didn't care
where i had flown from
as long as i sang
with everything
i had.

now im home.
but im not all here,
i left a version of myself
on that floor
of that arena,
still glowing.
still screaming.
still full
of everything
i want to feel again.

i left a piece of myself
in a city
i don't live in.
and some nights,
it feels like that version
of me
had it better --
louder laughter,
lighter shoulders,
less worry,
a heartbeat
in sync
with the music
she lives for.

and i wonder
if she's still
out there somewhere,
dancing along
to the beat.
post concert depression still hits after four months.
publishing straight after writing for the first time.
date wrote: 26/6
Damocles Jun 20
In all these disparate faces,
Amidst the crowds adjacent, a stage stood,
A stage meant to give praise to rock gods who ascended so beautifully.
Deep bellowing soul-crushing bass drums echoed,
Electric war birds screeched melodic songs,
And the vocals rang down like testaments.
We were in attendance at a sermon of heavy metal,
Surrounded by other worshippers in otherworldly convivial cheering.
Until the last song, the last lyric,
And the lights went from neon spectacle to incandescent boredom.
And reality returned, parasitically devouring the dopamine.
BLT's Merriam Webster's Word of the day Challenge.
Date: 6/20/2025
Word: Convivial
Meaning: relating to, occupied with, or fond of feasting, drinking, and good company
Why I never heard music so tasteful,
With a woman so graceful.
Falling to sleep in her arms,
As the choirs gently serenade us.
Lip to lip as the lights dim,
Hand on her thigh, just how she likes it.
I'll never be able to love you the same,
Not after feeling you like this.
Someday she's going to make the butterflies fly out of my stomach.
karma ch Dec 2024
i don't like a big crowd
they take the intimacy from an event
because when another man's adoration is more loud
i begin to wonder why i even went
to crawl from my skin and head back in time
to when the venue was empty, and the bass used to play sublime.
but those times are gone now, those singers' shells are empty, and now i just have to be free of mine.

as those lights burn in my eyes
i begin to realize that i don't and never will belong here
that tear inside my heart begins to fill with fear
because, i never thought i'd want to die
but, i don't and never will belong here
in this big dome of sounds and lies
i love conor oberst
Anais Vionet Oct 2024
We’re on October break, which is a 6-day weekend. For the last two weeks, everyone’s been making plans.
“What do you think of Cancún?” Sunny’d asked me.
“The only people going to Mexico are on the cheap or trapped in a trunk.” I’d answered.

After two weeks of weighing every conceivable terrestrial destination, amenities and available attractions, we (there’s six of us suitemates - Sunny, Lisa, Leong, Anna, Sophy and I) settled on good old Manhattan, where you’ll find us in adjoining-suites atop the Plaza hotel (thanks, Grandmère).

Things went CrA-CrA (crazy with a capital K) right off the bat. Sunny, as it turns out, KNOWS people here, and we decided to ‘walk on the wild side’ for one or two nights and check out a few fem-facing clubs. Now I know how sensitive we all are about pronouns, and what-not, but I’m going to try to simplify for a broad audience. These are lesbian clubs.

One thing I like about Music is sharing it with friends. Communities have always formed around art in whatever form. There are book clubs, film societies, Trekkies, Swifties and apparently, wild-*** lesbian dance clubs.

On our first night in Manhattan, the sun had barely set when Sunny said, “Ok then, let’s go!” And off we went to a “Femmquerade Ball”. I think that’s a combo of ‘feminine, queer and masquerade.’ She’d told us beforehand what to wear, “Take sweatshirts, those will come off - it gets hot in there - otherwise t-shirts, jeans and ballet flats - no purses.”

You know, I thought punk music was dead, ideating its death somewhere in the 90s. I was wrong, it’s ALIVE.
You know, when everyone’s feelin’ it, when two hundred people are rocking as one, club-life is transcendent. The club vibe was interesting too, there was a safety and freedom to it. You're in a crowded club, somehow without the limitations of the banal male gaze, with its sexist expectations. I don’t know how else to describe it.

I don’t think music has to have a message to earn its place as art. Folk romance music’s ok, jazz has its reach, opera is still happening and of course there’s regular dance music - cause sometimes, you’ve just gotta jiggle it.

That being said, there’s a saying that “Punk is truth” and that comes from its rawness and authenticity.
Punk has a ‘low barrier of entry’, as the academics say. It’s a game anyone can play. Punk isn’t autotuned, the bands use second-hand guitars, there are no synthesizers, the speaker stacks were shared, the vocalists lacked training, and I’d guess that none of the players were burdened with unpaid Juilliard tuition.

Punk’s always been outsider art, a scream along, you can’t go wrong, fire and every punk song is a garage invitation to joyously rage. As we drove to the club, Sunny had said, “Think of punk as dance music without inhibitions. It's straightforward and unapologetically for the people who can’t bother to keep to the dance steps and aren’t above getting in each other’s precious space.” Every word of that was true.

Punk lyrics are about the problems and issues of real-world people. It’s a roll call, a manifesto, implicit and explicit in stylish screaming. I’ve always called it scream-0. The point being, that while the rest of the world is restrained, heteronormative and reduced to a corporate gray backdrop, there’s still room for comradery, agency, outrage, pumpkin-Jello-shots (@ $16 each) and a bit of winking fun.

We DID have fun but I’ve been hoarse all day today. As we’d climbed into the car, last night, for the ride back to the Plaza, Mr. & Mrs Charles pointedly removed ear plugs from their ears - the kind they give to airport workers who work around jet engines all day. Charles laughed and said something, but I couldn’t hear him.
My ears were still ringing.
.
.
Songs for this
Rebel Girl by Bikini ****
Hash Pipe by Weezer
BLT Merriam Webster word of the day challenge: 10/13/24
Ideate = form an idea about something

Our cast…
My Yale suitemates: Sunny (Nebraska), Leong (Macao, China), Lisa (Manhattan), Anna (Oregon), Sophy (CA) and I (GA). The Charleses = Charles, my long-time escort (a retired NYPD cop) and his wife, Chynthia.
Grandmère = my Grandmother.
Nyx Dec 2023
Deep within the pit
Front and centre to the stage
Music blasting around you
Your mind starts to engage

Time slows around you
Forgetting your in a crowd
You feel your heart pumping in your chest
The surroundings no longer loud

Feeling like your soul is being lifted
higher up and up into the sky
The colours flooding your atmosphere
You feel as if you can fly

Sweat beading in your hands
Temperature on your skin is rising
hands wrapped around your waist
Spirits are energizing

You tune into the music there
Surrounding you with its soul
I never realized it before
How the rhythm can make you feel so whole

The exhilarating feeling
the rush that it entails
Hooked on this version of me
That is free to go off the rails

Run Free, Be Free
Everything in my soul is Free.
The taste of being this new untamed version,
The Freedom of being truly me

Euphoric
Zywa Jul 2023
The audience isn't

listening to the concert --


It's background music.
Collection "The drama"
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