"bassist" poems
here's the way i see it.
i'm an artist, a writer, a gambler, a fighter, a scientist, a scholar, a critic, a failure, a dramatist, a dreamer, a peddler, a nuisance, a bassist, a wanderer, a magician, a follower, a therapist, a liar, a professional, a healer, a pacifist, a chisel, a storyteller, a mathemetician, a physicist, a cook, a puzzler, a loser, a programmer, a lawnmower, a supporter, a musician, a tape-deck, a mirror, a survivor, and a dude.
i'm not very good at any of it.
Dec 29, 2015
Dec 29, 2015 at 5:51 PM UTC
As I sit here just chewing the cud
Nights lost and debauched with my friend Richard
Picking up that guitar as a kid from Cash Converters
He left me for the sun down under with the students and the surfers
E Minor through to a chord named A Sharp
Strangling that neck with fingers that don’t know where to start
I should have listened to Mr Hogarth for this career in its finest form
Rocking out on stage wow that would have been a storm
But it’s never too late to try and give it another go
Read music they say but I wouldn’t know my **** from my elbow
No, no, no, that’s not the attitude
I’ll plug this thing and never give up as someday I’ll fill those smoky rooms
I joined a band with 2 brothers and bassist of whom I did not know
Mill Hill practice every Sunday just thought I’d give it a go
But only one song and a commitment I could not keep it was always bound to fail
I’ll carry on solo still looking on but really just chasing my own tail
Work carried on as a plumber of which I never did really enjoy
But it paid the bills
A mortgage
A van
And a wedding on the horizon
All in sight except for that unseen tree which nearly stopped me from ever rising
Paraplegic is a word I had rarely ever used
you’re a ******* a **** I had said once myself how dare I have used that abuse
To be told you will never walk again is a shot that broke my heart
Don’t let it get you down be strong and try for a brand new start
The days go by at the start of this new journey
The loss of once friends and to gain some new is now what must ground me
A different perspective and a sharper humour has now unveiled
Hello new world you won’t get me down just watch this beast unravel
Taking the good with the bad and filtering through the ugly
A different ship to now set sail, get ready for this could get choppy
But as I say and always repeat, life goes on its just how you take it
This second chance given to me a bit lower down, but still determined to make it,
Hey Mr Wheelchair.
JJB
Jan 17, 2018
Jan 17, 2018 at 4:51 PM UTC
Writing is my passion it helps me communicate
It makes things alright and great
I've been able to create
Writing lyrics my life's a rock song ready to happen
Moments of my life put Into mini series
Characters and phases that come with age
Music is in my heart my grandpa was a bassist in a popular local band
I like to tell amusing stories life's more unique than boring
Free spirit lit with fire and free like a wild tiger
Grew up around ppl who stayed down
Escape this cage break all the norms achieve success with no bs
Apr 25, 2013
Apr 25, 2013 at 4:35 AM UTC
I meekly rummage through my purse
Looking for my tangled earpHones
The sweet sounds of guitar and synth fill my ear
As we pass Eglinton West
I wait for the last minute of the song
Where I maximize the volume
Just to hear the faint bass in the ocean of noise
Like my pastel jelly fish amongst navy blue
Stinging my tearducts with poison
Is your bass
That romantic tune forever ringing in my ears
Like your breathe down my back
Like your eyelash on my cheek
Like your fingers in my hair
The same that pluck that bass
Cascading ******** sound waves through my tired mind, romantic heart
I put your bass away, back in my purse
And walk the streets of my city
Where I see you everywhere
You can't be put away neatly in my subconscious
You're their bassist,
But most of all,
You're my front man.
Jan 22, 2013
Jan 22, 2013 at 3:12 AM UTC
I'm Austin
I play guitar
I sing too
Music and melodies
Make the world spin
I **** at poetry......
Cactus
Hey I'm Austin! Bassist for a band called Demonized Angels. Two of our members have personal accounts you may know them as <Andy> and <Jinxx> They're cool dudes go check them out. xD I'm a loser peace out
Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 9:58 PM UTC
What does it matter,
When I sit stiff in the dark
Music pricking through my eardrums;
Every single little strum
of guitar string
or a piano note;
Swimming along through the bass clef lines
The bassist, often undiscovered
No person hearing his low, warm notes.
His name is not on any
Cover
Not even in the 'artists' thoughts.
But his every strum gets through
Accompanied by a yelp
from my throat
The swirling snail in my ear
Curls up tighter as the waves near,
Fear. Paralyzed.
in fear.
The surge. Surge of thought
No time to breathe No time to stop
No time to think No time to drop
No single remaining train of thought
To listen to the bassists' notes.
Instead, it's the dreaded screech;
Singers voice racing through
my head is too loud
But my vocal cords never loud
enough to make a pleasing sound
A belching hound.
May 14, 2021
May 14, 2021 at 2:13 PM UTC
Crowd begins to rustle
Lights begin to dim
Performers begin to sweat
The curtain fades
The noise of the audience fade
The first act music-student's courage fades
He focuses on the notation sheet
Stage lights focus on him
Spectators focus on the teenager
He plays the first downbow note
The crowd listens to him
Lights shine, never faltering
-
Multitude begins to grow impatient
Lasers begin to blink on
Pop stars begin to nod at each other
The darkness on the stage fades
Distraction fades from the crowd
Sweat on the band's hands fade
She focuses on the expanse of people
Yellow lights focus on all of them
The sea of people focus on the song
Bassist plays the intro
Die-hard fans listen to the heartthrob
Strobe lights shine, excitement escalates
-
Big finale performed by the orchestra
People shiver in their seats
Wood stage vibrates
The curtains are drawn
Listeners sated, their scores are a draw
Philharmonic members draw smiles
Assembly gives a standing ovation
Each student gives a triumphant bow
Curtains give way
Backstage, the people laugh
Stage director laughs from relief
Congregation laughs from witty student's last remark
-
Last verse of fulfilling song performed by band
Top section shivers from air conditioner
Big speakers vibrate on last note
Projector screens are drawn
Crowds draw their phones for selfies
Drummer draws his experience on notebook
Spectators give shouts of, "Encore!"
Band members give their farewell
Coliseum gives back lights
Pianist laughs recalling his slip
Volunteers laugh from crowd's reaction
Fans laugh at guitarist signing for them
Jul 24, 2014
Jul 24, 2014 at 11:21 PM UTC
For an hour on my drive to school at night,
When the music and headlights come on,
For that hour I'm a rock star.
If you stop and stare even better,
and I'd congratulate you because you are my audience.
I'm the drummer, singer, bassist, piano player and guitarist,
Hell I'm even the guy playing with lights back stage.
But as soon as I park and get out of my car,
I'm not a singer, I'm not a musician and
I'm certainly tone deaf.
Yeah I'm a resenting has been and ex-husband,
I don't eat, sleep or **** but writing is what keeps me sober these days.
Singing is what keeps my mind off the time,
and music what keeps me off the lines.
I used to give out ratings.
Now I keep the words to myself
and if my opinion is asked of me,
I just give them the simple half.
Let them figure out what's missing,
the way I found out what I was needing.
I may not make a mill next year,
or be able to pay the bills this month.
But I will be recognized for the things that are
put on billboards and on your bedroom walls.
I will be known for the message you wear everyday,
and for giving a face to the girl that sings in the dark on stage
and plays in your car all day.
But for just this hour I'm just a simple rock star.
Feb 5, 2012
Feb 5, 2012 at 6:57 PM UTC
a jazz club in new orleans,
late evening.
the girl who grinned at me from
behind the bassist has
oysters on her breath and
hints of my lipstick still smeared
around her neck,
but i won’t tell her.
i’ll let her forget me like
she forgets the rest of them,
then notice the shy little
smudges from the other side
of her vanity and wish that
her familiar bourbon street boys
knew how to let their fingertips
slide down her spine the way
mine did.
the timing’s got nothing to
do with it. my ghost is lingering
on the skin of anyone who has
ever tested (swam in, drowned
in) these waters.
they’re playing “bye bye blackbird"
and she’s forgetting already.
i’m letting her. the remembering
comes once i’m lost at
sea.
Jul 17, 2013
Jul 17, 2013 at 2:42 AM UTC
The sunlight, like a mother’s touch,
lies gentle on the water’s face.
The last warm breath of summer past
Not ready yet to yield its place
And you and I walk, hand in hand,
Around the long and winding path
Past where fledging Mallards stand
And weeping willows sweep the earth.
From beyond the rushes comes
the soulful melody of a horn..
All else is still, no sound intrudes
upon the bassist and his song..
Above us Ninja squirrels fly
And bomb the path with acorn shells
If they should hit me do not laugh
Odds are that they’ll get you as well.
I’m glad we came to Oakland Lake,
To watch the waterfowl at play,
And have a quiet conversation
about a nearly perfect day.
Jan 10, 2012
Jan 10, 2012 at 10:36 PM UTC
I play my electric guitar on my amp,
Then there's a drum sampler,
And I sing & scream okay,
But without the bassist,
I feel like I go commando.
Fellows commented long ago,
"Without the bass guitar,
Your song feels hollow."
I looked for any bassist,
Here & there but to no avail.
What I ultimately found out,
Many play the Axe,
But none a bass,
Nobody plays it, not the bass,
And my best songs sound hollow.
Nov 22, 2024
Nov 22, 2024 at 11:29 AM UTC
Hazy summer dreams of Independence Day,
Sitting in a field and an alcove of trees
Watching fireflies and fireworks
With nothing but a peace pipe and the pleasure
Of each other's company.
Four in the morning blues
Writing music inspired by
The light reflecting off her box wine,
Bird feathers and new frontiers.
Four in the morning band practice
Where the kitchen was filled with
Jaw harps and nose flutes and ukuleles.
She hated the fact that the string bassist
Parked right in front of the fridge.
Sun-drenched days of exploring
And picking mulberries from the
Fallen tree at the creek.
They tried to make pen ink from it,
Once.
Dreams of open mic nights with
Milkshake stouts and summer sweat
But never once complaining
Because the air felt so electric
And full with the sound of kindred souls.
Place closed down since then,
But she won't forget the time she was
Asked to stay on stage when her set was done.
Maybe they're all romanticized, but
These memories stick like push pins
In her mind, in her heart.
There was something more authentic
About it all -
All those days of watching
Fireworks and fireflies.
Something real, and true.
Something changed, shifted in the universe.
Maybe it was her.
Jun 22, 2015
Jun 22, 2015 at 10:43 PM UTC
I wanna keep dancing on your stage
Please don't turn off the lights
Please don't go home quite yet
Because I've missed these notes you play
And I've missed
Each one of you
The drummer, the singer, the bassist...
Sometimes I'm just sitting in school
Thinking of those somehow long-
Passed summer nights
Where we'd pick up the tempo
Or maybe just slow down
Trying to lose track of time
In the back of your car and
Where'd the amp go?
Where did you go?
Nov 6, 2013
Nov 6, 2013 at 11:50 PM UTC
Guided by beer light down moonlit streets
pockets stuffed with stale tobacco and receipts,
pariahs of the night, queens of the teen-age
attacking their youth in a drug fuelled rage
shaking their bodies 'neath schizophrenic lights
a typical night filled with hatred and fights,
the bloodlust was fun, a midnight boogie,
danger both caustic and infectiously groovy
girls all wearing dresses too small for their *****
disk jockeys playing electro-pop to please the masses -
#WAM!#
#BAM!#
#OH YEA, OH MAN!!!#
like raving corsairs they arrived; guitars lean, leather jackets sublime
o'behold the rip-roarin' Raven's Clandestine
["People ARE YOU READY?!"]
they played rock that growled in your ears
snazzy lyrics metaphorical tears,
indulging in passion, *** alcohol and heavy drugs
dismissing dire warnings with cockily executed shrugs
swaggering to blistering tunes in front of the crowds
singing songs 'Psycho-Bitch' and 'Rebel-Tastic' obnoxiously proud,
falling in love on the stage, falling in love in their beds,
adorning their wild hair with tassels and threads
blissfully ignorant they simply didn't care
wanted to do what they want, alas life ain't that fair -
the bassist met a rogue ***** contracted ***
the guitarist lost his sight, carried on playing though he couldn't see,
the drummer lost his cool and battered a fan
found high on ******* for 10 years locked away more than
and the lead singer, with his hip swagger 'n jive,
suffered a massive stroke, upon the stage in a screeching solo he died
*[he hides his sinister within songs
died gazing at scantily-clad chicks in fluorescent thongs]*
promising to be legends they rocked the 1970's ambiguous nation
alas their substance abuse and ****** desires had already cursed them to damnation.
Dec 30, 2015
Dec 30, 2015 at 5:59 PM UTC
My family has music in our blood
My grandpa lead singer and bassist in his band
An uncle who plays keyboard
A cousin who djs another cousin who plays drums
Ive tried starting bands working on solo projects
Lyrics and sounds I cant replicate from my mind to others ears
I know the counts got the tempos I just want everything to mesh together
I realize ill never move up at work they cut managers and leads
So I really need to do something with my writing
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 11:21 AM UTC
great bands
are the ones with
the rhythm section having
a lot of fun... esp. the bass player
(tool / red hot chilli peppers -
because i could never catch the bass line
in metallica after the original bassist died,
except in two songs: my friend of misery
and devil's dance),
makes it a befitting continuity of jazz,
not just the boorish: let the solo guitarist
invoke the soprano and have all the fun...
********** that one too?
no wonder air guitar came about.
i mean... i wrote an essay
in music class once about the caribbean
and wrote nothing about bob marley, i know;
it was so good i got the prize
of having vouchers for the bookstore w.h. smith
and got myself a book.
otherwise? learning music in a catholic school?
well just a bunch of keyboards on the desks,
you’d think kraftwerk was at work
styling a revival of the bouncy wet biscuit dance
allowing these epileptics into the club
without a warning sign: strobe lights!
Oct 11, 2015
Oct 11, 2015 at 1:58 PM UTC
I remember exactly where I was the first time I heard you play.
I was sitting in the Violins section and humming along to my favorite part of one of my favorite songs.
And then he asked you to play a part of that song and I prepared myself for little entertainment.
You picked up that heavy bow and settled that bass into your shoulder and you played measures I had never heard before.
You played with such ease and finesse I was almost sure it wasn't real.
You stunned the room and stole my heart and all you did was play.
That was the first time I heard you play.
We were sitting in a small group of selected musicians to play for a musical and you were there too.
I had not fallen in love with you yet but I knew I would soon.
You picked up your bass and played away and everyone was amazed at how you carried a tune.
My ex was there with his trumpet in hand and no words could be said, you knocked me dead.
That was the first time he heard you play.
You picked up your electric bass and calmly moved your fingers to a groove.
You were brand new and had no idea how to make people move.
Your hands played jazz like a well oiled machine and it was then we all knew we had seen all to see.
Nov 5, 2014
Nov 5, 2014 at 1:32 PM UTC
Half&Half;
Simply, half and half
makes a universe in a cup,
filled with cream and milk.
Know not what it is
but know what it is
not, and where it is,
(and if you dare)
know why it is.
Really, the bassist plays,
His universe is in a cup
filled with groove and rhythm,
he knows what that is.
He knows what it is not,
where it is found,
and why it is.
(and he does dare)
Simply, to know the contents
of your cup of half and half,
to spill it out and fill it up
again, ponder its past,
present,
and future.
Really, to know the music
that flies from your arms,
to hold them out and raise them up
again, ponder the chords,
rhythm,
and progression.
Simply, you miss out.
Really,
You miss out.
Sep 29, 2011
Sep 29, 2011 at 7:53 PM UTC
The anthem ripped out from the Frontman, the Drummer, and the Bassist,
Making a sound larger than should be possible,
Their anthem ripped out through the old amps,
The music revitalizing the old speakers.
The Drummer hammered out powerfully yet precise.
His feet rattling off like machine gun fire,
His bandana tied around his brow.
The Bassist laying down a metronome-like effect to it all,
Notes swaying and dipping to the tune,
Flaring out occasionally to add more gravitas,
Showing he was still his own musician.
The Frontman declaring to the crowd of transgressions committed,
Of battles won and lost,
But also the views from the other side,
That the enemy may be man still.
A story of agony and anger,
Sorrow and Savagery,
With jubilance for the act of violence.
The Frontman's solo soaring high before axe kicking down upon the audience's heads.
The Agent was stunned,
His dropped drink forgotten,
As he reached for the payphone on the wall
The experience in front of him spurring him faster.
The Band continued,
Their sound crescendoing,
Coming to an almighty peak,
Only to begin it's decent to the earth,
Crashing down magnificently,
Down upon a dive bar in the run down part of town.
Jun 6, 2017
Jun 6, 2017 at 2:32 AM UTC
And now,
The end.
The time has come.
Some will walk, & Some will run.
Sour rice and waterbugs.
We just ain't finished til we're done.
Walk along the golden? Sure!
Shop to shop,
&
Store to store.
Searching for some cheap manure
We found some, but we kneed some more.
People walk, &
People talk
Too. One another, one's a lover,
But the other ************ isn't just my only brother, but my bassist, and my drummer.
Ha
Ha
Ha
**
May 1, 2014
May 1, 2014 at 4:03 PM UTC
I grew up watching my parents reduce themselves to their bassist.
Oops, that's a typo:
They are not musicians.
Debasement, so crass.
Humiliation on full blast.
But I guess it's a fairly common thing to dread family vacations.
My mom can't take the hint.
She can't tell when we're disinterested.
My dad talks a bunch of crazy **** despite who might be listening.
There's an unspoken comraderie amongst us siblings.
We're all in this together.
We fight our inherited,
unwanted,
self-destructive tendencies.
When I lose a battle I can always count on them to make me feel better.
Two have found ther wings.
They flew away from this place.
One soars high,
but I fear the other found himself another cage.
It's okay, I think.
I mean, I think he'll be okay.
As for us remaining two,
we're slowly making our way.
Our way out, is what I mean.
It's what I meant to say.
This nest hasn't been kept very warm,
but I guess it's still a home.
With two featherless,
flightless birds to deal with;
I'm glad I didn't have to go it alone.
Oct 21, 2014
Oct 21, 2014 at 12:02 AM UTC
*the last few days have been strangely warm for december,
there’s a bit of fog, the foxes do their usual weekly scouting
while people take out the trash and the foxes nibble into black bin bags,
it’s been warm, and foggy, and the perfume in the air
is like inside a barn where smoked salmon come from:
pungent sweet & smoky; almost like that tokaji flavoured whiskey,
where a pole sniffed a glass, and a russian looked real deep into
the glass to philosophise what wisdom came from that forgotten
shamanism.*
as i was expecting, thus it came into my *****
the full roundabout u-turn,
the contestants sang their hearts out, i listened,
the overbearing presence to keep rhythm in
modern music with crescendo after drum & bass
to slower rhythm of dub step like that maverick
anonymity that’s distance, vex’d and burial...
it had to come, no longer content with ensuring the
drums keep the rhythm, the missing bass in metallica
after the original bassist’s tragedy, i.e. just
a massive ha ha aha ha (sneeze insertion) hush,
it had to culminate in operatic pop music...
i spotted four lungs worth of breath with that blonde cutie...
(death cab for cutie - soul meets body, great song)
it’s so ****** ballistic, there’s no underlying originality
with these vocals that can be expected rhythm guitar and bass,
there’s no easily recognisable signature monotone,
it’s just a massive crowd pleaser to test the vocal range...
which is a shame... i’m just watching air-guitar all the ****** time,
it’s pretty much all solo moments with those air-balloons
filled up with helium rather than carbon dioxide that flop
and dangle like male genitalia...
it’s a shame, i want recognisable rhythm vocals...
and i also want a geneticist to write me a genetics formula
of how man became ~99% ape arrangement
and “~98%” genetic structure of rice... i want the equation,
i don’t want the aesthetic crap of the easiest explanation:
mandible thumbs you see... no, i don’t want that
to antagonise religious groups who can be easily duped,
i want a serious carbohydrate relevant transition equation
of the genetic re-arrangement.
Dec 13, 2015
Dec 13, 2015 at 7:31 PM UTC
It had followed him for most of his life,
Sitting patiently,
Waiting still,
For the Spider knew it would eventually get it's chance,
A cruel judgment bestowed upon him by the fates.
The Spider's legs were long,
It's beady eyes glistening,
Milky venom dripping from a maw of nasty little teeth,
Shivering with anticipation,
For soon it would be time to strike,
And then it would finally feast.
To our hero's who were celebrating,
To the spider they were completely unaware,
Hiding amongst the guests,
Some of them the Spider had been feeding on for years,
But now it was time for a new dish.
The Bassist had turned in early,
The Drummer in another room,
The Spider closed in on the lone Frontman,
Who defenceless and alone was introduced to his doom.
Jul 27, 2017
Jul 27, 2017 at 11:24 PM UTC
The heros were at a crossroads once again,
But a much different one from the time before,
This one was one where they had not been,
And one they would end up not all traveling along the same path.
The Drummer and the Bassist pleaded for the Frontman to see reason,
That the path he chose only would lead to ruin,
But with the spider whispering its words their pleas fell upon deaf ears.
It is here that the Frontman struck it out alone,
Feeling betrayed upon their refusal to join him on this path.
He was alone now,
With only the spider for company,
Too blinded to it all to realize the dangers upon the road he went.
Jan 26, 2018
Jan 26, 2018 at 12:26 AM UTC
They traveled together,
The passionate group of three,
They stop at a bar to catch their breath.
The Bassist was quiet quiet and aloof,
His lack of words offset by the weight of each one,
On the rare occasion when he'd throw in his two cents,
His sound was emotional and true,
He spoke without speaking,
With tired eyes,
And a half crooked smile.
He drank a Guinness from a clean pint glass.
Next was the Drummer,
Bobbing his head to a tempo only he could hear,
His sound and energy was like a locomotive engine when he gained momentum,
He would play through a ten minute intermission if let to his own devices.
His eyes were as sharp as a hawk,
Darting to and fro,
His expression of a not-quite-there-frown,
More of a look of constant boredom.
He drank some pale beer that was probably half watered down to start with from a dingy glass.
And at last we have the Man,
Who was now the Frontman,
With a well-worn guitar,
He was dedicated, but haunted by the fear of failure,
But fear can still be used to fuel a sound,
Adding an edge of importance to his words,
His eyes are closed, however, to better concentrate on the sound coming from the old and battered jukebox,
A blank face is his,
Indecipherable to even those who knew him best,
He drank a bottle of something local,
From a bottle,
With just a pinch of salt.
May 27, 2017
May 27, 2017 at 11:25 PM UTC