"extraction" poems
Frozen in the darkness silence peacefully shrouds me
hoping that I am breathless, praying he wont see,
this sublime sorrow I am gasping in the pain
swallowing bitter tears seconds from insane.
Defining the emotion each and every time
trying not to echo, balancing on the line,
silence is a killer but not my reason to die
hearing in this deafness will always make me cry.
The shadows over take me, speak the unspoken curse
just as well I am dying can't bear to smell this hearse.
Weighed down by lost tomorrows my memory finally broke,
why is it always my own hands gripped to make me choke?
His hug comforts my stomach blindly in his sleep
not knowing in this darkness my eyes can't help but weep,
obscurity plays around me tries to steal my breath
every time I close my eyes I know I’m close to death.
Panic underestimates the power the black withholds
carving me so gently, painless as it moulds
I sweat out my reaction cause words can't find a voice,
helplessly devoted to lay I have no choice.
Everything suffocates can't bear to close my eyes
repeated optimism as I see how everyone dies,
my mind is there to haunt me it never gives me peace
all the pills digested at will, still wont make it cease.
Night is a blur now confused by chemical reaction
convulsions rage as death excels performing its extraction,
in the mix I see his face traumatised by my choice, it's made
but time has gone his actions futile as sight begins to fade,
regret stabs flesh repentantly too late to change effect
I know he’ll cry forever at his failure to correct.
My selfish, vengeful actions will speak louder than my word
he never seen the suicide…do you think he finally heard?
Aug 8, 2010
Aug 8, 2010 at 7:07 AM UTC
sound of waves crashing against shore
she says it’s the tone in your voice
sound of waves crashing against shore
he asks what tone are you referring to what are you hearing
sound of waves crashing against shore
she says i’m an artist too you don’t have to tell me
sound of waves crashing against shore
he explains i was simply affirming my vocation in order to elucidate why i perceive another way
sound of waves crashing against shore
she says you don’t need to pose or differentiate for me you are so ******* self-absorbed
sound of waves crashing against shore
he answers self-conscious possibly not self-absorbed i think it is intelligent to question everything to suspect all we see think we know maybe a greater mystery than any of us realize exists beyond all our beliefs
sound of waves crashing against shore
she says i think it’s time for us to stop talking
sound of waves crashing against shore
he says why can’t you make it easy why must everything be a fight
sound of waves crashing against shore
her ****** becomes a deep dark narrowing tunnel he is trapped in thinning air smells like ocean
sound of waves crashing against shore
her voice detached distant disaffected says fine
sound of waves crashing against shore
he questions fine? find? line? sign? can you hear me? anyone hear me?
sound of waves crashing against shore
she purposely ignores his panting gasping shrieking
sound of waves crashing against shore
later she tells the surgeon who performs the extraction then the police detectives who conduct the investigation she had no idea he was lost in there
sound of waves crashing against shore
unanimous jury finds her guilty she screams out at courtroom he was a self-absorbed dreamer this is all wrong
sound of waves crashing against shore
the judge declares mistrial dismisses case based on prosecution’s inability to refute so-called artist’s willingness to enter of his own volition
sound of waves crashing against shore
late at night she feels his voice whisper circulating through her body haunting her
sound of waves crashing against shore
Oct 17, 2010
Oct 17, 2010 at 8:47 AM UTC
I'm not one of those people
Who can bury that itch,
So very down deep
That they can't even scratch.
Certainly, most days, I'm satisfied with Me,
Just can't seem to be satisfied with Just me.
I want four hands, not two,
And four feet, covered in warm woolen socks between sheets.
I want clamoring voice from a throat that's not mine.
I want two heads, two hearts,
Two toothbrushes.
Different length hair in the shower
(You clean it out)
Accidental-shrunken work shirts
Cussing fights while I finish the laundry
Surprise apologies later.
Nights of scheduling compromise
Days of scheduling compromise
How many sick days can we skip work with?
I don't need some long-distance,
Not-a-relationship
Just-friends-with-benefits
********
I cannot hug me
I cannot bury my face in my chest
And just breathe.
My arms don't reach far enough,
And I get a crick in my neck only to find that
My shirts just smell like cheap soap.
Not looking for marriage.
Ten years until kids.
Maybe a dog later on.
We'll walk it together, and you can bag the poo...
It could be I'm just too addicted to ***
Or maybe I wear too much lingerie.
My corsets and evening gowns show too much of my flesh?
I know too many good random subjects for conversation?
My **** looks too good.
Your **** looks too good?
Pick one and tell me,
So I can find that one thing
That keeps the timing from not lining up
Or lets me meet men that aren't married, or
Under 18, Under 21, Under-able to carry out a conversation with words longer than 2 syllables.
I probably won't even see it coming,
That day when I find that someone who satisfies Just Me.
But for now, can I please find
Someone to just satisfy me?
Oct 14, 2010
Oct 14, 2010 at 7:24 PM UTC
Are you a tourist or
A volcanologist my dear?
With a painful joy
To a live volcano getting near,
Do you want to pay homage
To earth's nadir
Conscious that beneath a sea level
A sweltering heat you can bear?
Then to Erta Ale come you not why
Found under Ethiopia's sky?
With a style jumping high,
Hitting the ground
Beating drums, on their waists,
Sabres tied around
Afro men along with braided women,
With butter greased hair,
The latter ululating and clapping
In a row facing each other
Chant a love song
“My feeling for you is strong!”
The male herd camel,
While women babysit,prepare food
And make short huts
With tiny malleable wood.
Also dot the mirage-forming sand
Huts grand.
Are you a tourist my dear
Eager to see about
Out of the ordinary you heard
Say about multicolored magma
Volcano's dust,
Disgorged out of earth's crust?
Do you want to see a scenery
You have not seen
Since you were born,
How in a motley garment
Mother nature itself
Likes to adorn
Come then to Ethiopia,
Located in Africa's horn?
Visit Erta Ale ,
On earth
To run away from earth
Enjoying its hearth.
You will witness
The extraction of salt
In a volcano-formed fault.///
Oct 15, 2018
Oct 15, 2018 at 3:30 AM UTC
Mist moves through early morning
Swirling a top the remaining craggy Gods
Standing tall to form the Appalachia
PawPaw trees hang heavy
Laden with fruit, ripened by Eastern sun
Precious ecosystem sustaining what shouldn't grow in this hemisphere
What's left that has not been removed
By blasting coal extraction
Towers above us still, breathing deep
Guarding us in silent repose
Footsteps weave to and fro
Sweet grass brushing sensitive skin
My laughter echo's through the Old Oaks
Honey bees gather pollen
Buzzing happily by my side
We must protect this special place
Turn away from stripping her of her glitter
Of her shine
Clean air, healthy soil
She can recover, she will survive
Aug 4, 2014
Aug 4, 2014 at 11:08 AM UTC
moment to moment
we are the sum total of
our chemicals
we think of ourselves
we think of others
as an average of our
time and spacial synergy
an anatomical amalgam
a biological brine
frankensteins with
personalities, commonalities and
unique agendas
sprinkled with neuroses that
range from microscopic to
catastrophic, whether
chemical reaction or
hyperbolic extraction
you can choose to
canonize or demonize
as long as you can
recognize
the flesh and the blood
versus the fantasized
Sep 29, 2014
Sep 29, 2014 at 1:46 AM UTC
Do you remember anything?
" I told them I didn't, But I remember it all. It was darkness.. A sort of darkness that for a moment I thought no light could shine in it.. I was numb all over. At first I thought I was dead. I started to ask myself, (Is this what its like to be dead) but then slowly the feeling would creep back into my limbs.. I then heard three different sets of voices. They scared me to no end because what ever they were they seem to be communicating with eachother. Their voices sounded like hisses mixed in with strange deep tones from an ***** Thats the best I can explain. I started to feel pressure in my hands and feet. Then in my chest and stomach.. After that I felt cold and hot, then hot then cold.. Next was the crawling feeling all over my body.. It felt like large cockroaches were running all over my body. Then came the sounds. From my left side then my right. Then both sides, and then all around me.. I knew I was being tested on by something.. The last thing I saw was a door of light. It hurt my eyes so bad.. I then saw three silhouettes standing in the light.. After that I awoke here in the woods.. It seem like it was a dream.. But my soreness in my body told me it wasn't!
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Vialarkeris: Data Human Lifeform"""Project Helix heal""""
Male human : W.B.C. EXTRACTION..
Our planet is being ravaged by an acute viral nasopharyngitis.. We have no way to stop it. Millions have died. No cure can be found.. That is until today. History has been made in the most wonderful way possible.. We infected a male human lifeform with the virus and found that his body (although super feeble) was able to fight of the infection. It took a matter of only 2 days for his body to fully purge out the virus.. We were able to narrow down a cell within the human known as a white blood cell (W.B.C.) which could counter the virus and purge it out of the body. Although feeble the humans have a much better immune system than we do. The human was returned near his home and saw it all as a dream. Little did he know that he saved an entire advanced civilization with just a veil of his blood..
Feb 27, 2017
Feb 27, 2017 at 3:14 PM UTC
***A Woman's Reflection on Her Reflection (Valence and Value)
one poem, written by two authors***
~~~
**Ever the analyst,
A mirror functions as surface to
Parse the fleeting constant
Of youth's beauty.
From genetic gift
Of symmetry and bone,
To technological tampering,
Until the equation is solved,
As experience and character
Models and maps the result.
The answer, a reflection,
Of individual valence and value**
(written by S.D., a woman)
~~~
(written by N.L., a man)
unbidden and unannounced, a
"not fully formed poem,
but a simple reflection"
inbound missile arrives inbox,
armed with silent power,
the lethality of the
Holy Unexpected
the man reflects
on her mirror-on-the-wall's
fulsome reply,
parsing the words of a
woman's reflection,
while gazing on her own
every human's momentary glass notation,
but an instance of summation,
a human poem, whose editing,
unceasing
a comma here,
a period inserted,
an eye shadowed, an eyebrow tweezed,
a eye dark circle line added,
to tree-mark time's authorship
all these
but a person's
excerpted extraction,
notarized,
then auto-erased and revised,
as out of date,
instantaneously compromised
but,
***it is upon the conceptual,
valence and value,
more that the man reflects perpetual,
less on transitory morphing changes of
exterior mortality
while overlooking her
glassine realization from behind,
he concludes:
every reflection,
no matter how oft the snapshot,
the unfleeting constancy
of the combining of the
princes of principles,
valence and value
that he witnesses,
in the calming pool
of her eyes,
(those borrowed windows into her soul's well,)
so well reflect
her unchanging greater finery,
her character
this reflection,
metamorphosis transformed.
into a planetary permanency poem,
high placed in his the firmament
of their conjoined sky***
Feb 25, 2016
Feb 25, 2016 at 8:54 PM UTC
I want to live in a protoplasmic land:
Where only earth's natural resources are availed...
but not any exploitable extraction from nature.
where the cacophonies of friction are unheard..
Where the toxic air doesn't seem to arouse from the rooms of renaissance,
Where the sky synergizes with the nature,
Where the oeuvre of the planet remains pristine,
Where the trees vacillate with the harmony of winds.
Where there exists no manufactured light....
But only the piercing rays of self-igniting sun to synthesize the earth with seemingly eonian brightness...
And on nocturnals,star and moon drives me,if moon masquerades,i.e.,
When the commixture of cirrocumulus clouds form an impenetrable layers of watery clouds,
let the thundering light texture me while its clustering clouds embracing me with its rapturous rain,
Let the nature do its own karma,
I am not here to meddle in nature's subtle poise,
but to infuse into it......
O'shiva pave me the unobscure and quintessential way for me to dissolve in to you,
Let me drop my essential earth and dissolve my sumptuous and non-matter soul in to everlasting you....
Let me hush in to those singular days and solitary sounds....
Oct 17, 2014
Oct 17, 2014 at 1:41 PM UTC
The cops took my ****
Beautiful living creatures
Extinguished by extraction
This message made possible by
The bible-thumpers passion
A simple farmer, simple life
He's caused no one pain or strife
The victim absent, non-existent?
It matters not, just throw him in prison!
Mar 31, 2012
Mar 31, 2012 at 4:22 PM UTC
My membrane is a flower and too many people have plucked my petals from the stem.
I ripped out all of the pages that had scripture in them, scripture that told stories of who I was back then, scripture I had written with a broken pen.
I kept your voice in a box that's in the attic, it's safe inside a headache, it still sounds nothing less than tragic.
Remember my hands and how they shook when you took everything away, when the demons weren't at bay,
when I screamed for them to stop but still, continually,
everyone's been taken away,
so when people stay please understand that I have to push them away like waves from the shore and **** I know that's clichè but I'd rather die than let them live in my heart for only a few days.
They still try to talk and I reverberate about how it's unholy to say my name that way, it's unholy to keep me in the fade.
It's unholy to remember me by my eyes and not by my lies.
I have good alibis and it's nothing but true when I say that
I forgot what love means,
I believe it's an illusion that most people just dream, they told me I'm crazy but **** I think I've had more nightmares than dreams so I would know better than to keep my lonely stem stuck in bad weather.
They're over there seducing themselves now, they're seducing themselves with medication that leads to hours of a permutation of all the items in her chest, he leads her to a mutation of what he thinks is best.
I only weep between sheets.
They're far too confident in their self extraction and I just don't understand how that happens, how self absorption can lead to something so terrifying, placing yourself in a box so you can delegate yourself, you're too delicate, it's not good for your health.
That voice inside that box talks in third person now, it says you're not doing too well.
May 8, 2015
May 8, 2015 at 12:28 AM UTC
1. Magic exists all around us.
2. When you laugh your nose crinkles up so perfectly that your freckles dance like little dandelions in the wind. Know that you are special.
3. One day you will find yourself. For now you are allowed to be lost, you are allowed to be confused and you are allowed to be scared. We all are.
4. You have experienced pain and you are still here. I am so proud of you. Do not disregard yourself you beautiful warrior.
5. You have stardust in your veins, you are a living, breathing, walking extraction of the universe. There are galaxies inside your head, moons in your eyes and the ocean in your heart.
6. You are enough.
Jun 4, 2014
Jun 4, 2014 at 10:42 AM UTC
I have a photograph of you.
A fatalistic image stuck in my eye.
Like a piece of ***** grit.
Sharp and caustic.
With acidic bite.
Picture ripped, torn into thirds.
Spread between you and I.
Via fantastic words.
His pessimistic transparency.
Shot him in the foot.
Foot dripped claret.
A carpet ruined.
Stained with blood of the obscene.
Nightmares melted into dreams.
Temperate,
Into honest evaporation dissolved.
In rebellion,my heart's released.
The compassionate one once more is free.
A rapid hummingbird.
Sweet nectar, pure extraction.
On the next day you are released.
For after your birthday tomorrow,
Darling I only pray you rest in peace.
The delicate flower washed away.
Free to dance and write and play.
Forever and another day.
Alone and sour.
A salty twang.
Goodbye my sweet,
All gone.
Bang!
By ladylivvi1
© 2014 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Jan 9, 2014
Jan 9, 2014 at 3:11 PM UTC
I lay upon cold steel, blinding lights loom
above my head. I hear my brain
confirm 'minor surgery' and then you
enter the room, scalpel in hand, aimed
at my chest. Not there! my mind screams,
then I feel the burn of ripped flesh;
a repugnant stench fills the room, a familiar smell,
the sickening, salty odor of blood.
Bones and cartilage moan as the scalpel shreds
with swift precision, one target in mind:
a fist-sized beating ***** Extraction.
I raise my head from frosted steel
in time to see your deed: ****** fingers,
clinched into claws, dive into the open cavity,
gouge holes into either side and wrench
the tiny ***** from its cave.
You hold it high above your head, a trophy;
crimson drips down your arm, soaks
a white sleeve like spilt wine on lace; you open
a glass jar, formaldehyde mixes with drops of blood
as the ***** plunges into your solution
Jan 29, 2011
Jan 29, 2011 at 11:36 AM UTC
Stick straight trees line hills, their arrangement phony
less than 5,000 feet in elevation but elevating humanity for over
sixty thousand.
For more than sixty thousand human beings,
think of fish stuck, are stampeded by shiny black
blocks of detonation.
Explosion for extraction, and teeny tiny port-o-potties
sit, enjoying relaxation where an ecosystem once
enjoyed rehabilitation after March.
We Marched on, up a gravel hill where wind
blew but we bolted our boots to the soil.
Sunglass-clad woman concealed her hurt eyes,
but her voice hurt enough to inspire a kind of
throat retching sensation.
***** up that black, ooey-gooey you old, weathered mountain top.
Explosives like a firm finger shoved down the throat
denote a rock spew; regurgitate and repeat a dozen times over.
Flatten and deform, never to reform
the water-giving, life-renewing, shady shelter, stable
stool, magic majesty of my mountain.
Mar 8, 2014
Mar 8, 2014 at 7:08 PM UTC
A broken past molds us into what we call our present mask
and all that lingers and basks,
either feeding positive tasks or manifesting a present past
(It makes no sense, don't ask)
Attraction is distraction
Unsolvable fractions
Needing emotional extraction
Mind dribble dance
Lost in a trance, never had a chance
So used to subliminally bursting
Not used to someone witnessing me recoloring
I curl inside
I wish to hide
I crave apathy
I refuse apathy
I boycott spoon-fed darkness
But sometimes it swallows you whole
I understand the anger of an earth angel
I understand the haunting isolation when you realize you're the last of your kind
When life meets despair, inhale that coastline air
It's better to painfully breathe than apathetically impair
~ the calm after a heart wave crashes ~
Sep 13, 2013
Sep 13, 2013 at 11:09 PM UTC
There are so many dentists
that the market's getting tight.
One must differentiate
to draw trade to one's site.
Being new kid on the block
especially was scary
Until, in a flash of brilliance,
he called his:"The Tooth Fairy"
With gloves and masks
and dental dams
He served his clientele-
leaving their other cavities
to those who knew them well.
His clientele were handsome
and all exercised a bit.
Some were macho, some were fey
it mattered not a whit.
What mattered were the smiles he saved,
that gave him satisfaction,
and he earned a decent living.
from the fine are of extraction.
So if you, too, seek success
it pays to find your niche.
Serve the Sado- masochists
and make them all your b*tch.
Aug 20, 2013
Aug 20, 2013 at 6:50 PM UTC
someone important to me once said
that as a writer
he always needs to do something with his hands
and thats why he smokes
maybe i just want to see what it feels like
to survive a forest fire
or set myself on edge
or maybe my lungs crave experience
the feeling of something that isnt oxygen
they might get tired of the same old thing
maybe their exhaustion has just spread
throughout my whole entire body
i get the feeling that sometimes you stir and smile in your sleep
sometimes you are thinking about the wedding band on my finger
i wonder if you ever get the urge to move it a finger over
i coax my reality into a state of calmness by reassuring it with silly dreams
and words
i think would feel good being whispered out of your mouth
i havent met a single person
that wished they could be in control of someone else's lips
instead we just press them to our own
and whisper sweet words
and shift the mood of the emotion calendar
pack me in a suitcase
and if i die before we reach our destination
of sprawling castles and empty dialect
at least my dreams were above the clouds
but because i hate planes so much
they were probably curled up in a puddle of *****
"at least i was with you,"
they will exchange soft words as they sift
on a messy bed
trying to reach a comfortable state
of being
and mind
and pulse life into one another again
maybe they will even
attempt some work on me
look at how bright your future is
they whisper
as they hold me steady in front of a moving train
i cant see anymore i cant see anymore
it is impossible to thrash
are they taunting me? are they raining on my parade?
are they are they are they?
would they would they
would they?
their grips are like the blood pressure machine
stop squirming, you piece of ****
you useless human flesh
havent you realised i've inhabited other minds before?
i know what theirs looks like
oh yes
inside and out
nobody is as fragile as you are
through every wire
every twist and turn you try to sneak past me with
nobody so blessed so beautiful
curl up and breathe life
into my brain
my bones should automatically respond
i will stretch i will stretch
i am like a dog on a cold morning in a warm bed
with someone who radiates love toward him
i will twitch my tail and
dance like a spring
when you creak off of the bed
and i will follow you
into the dismal day
Aug 20, 2014
Aug 20, 2014 at 7:54 PM UTC
It’s not about fitting it all into the car;
it’s about fitting the pieces together
against the agrestic trunk space.
It’s the way we hungrily wait
to spit up our influence It’s
the patient extraction of
a cat cornered conver
sation that is easier
to shove under
the innate rug
that is this
chaotic
l i f e
Mar 2, 2018
Mar 2, 2018 at 9:59 PM UTC
Round and round in circles
Trapped within our vibe
Never knowing what is real
I need to unsubscribe
But … how to go about it?
De-tangle from our mess
Eradicate The Cavalier … swamped in our sweet caress?
I don’t think that that’s the answer
I want the onus just on me
Otherwise …
I won’t progress … to a functional degree
That old fickle finger of fate
Ensnared me in its womb
Life passed by
Clipped wings did sigh
I never stopped to question
“WHY?”
Now my pain is open wide
I need to lay me down to die
*Softly
Softly
Softly*
Teeth clench around our cord
Extraction of my sanity
Will be my just reward
And
As I watch you whither
Stumble
Blinded in the dark
I’ll know the futures rosy
Because …
**I stepped up
I
Disembarked**
Feb 13, 2011
Feb 13, 2011 at 1:12 AM UTC
What can the spawns of Ahriman say, that hasn't been said before
What can Angra Mainyu linage do that hasn't been done
Children of Jahi the ***** fathered by The Opposer himself
When the Ghost of ghosts spawned his offsprings in Hades
Did he not promise them the world and declared it his
Did he not remove the dusts of damnation from them
And send them down to continue his dominion of fire
Once the second exalted but twisted from his arrogance
He faced down the Omnipotent Light and sought to usurp
From thence on banished in eternal shame he remains
The Ghost of Ghosts spawning his demons and ghouls
The pretenders without light or hues washed in satyr's milk
Disciples of extraction of the purity of the sinless inoncents
Henceforth they seek ********** over the joys of Creation
Killers that **** with all deeds and actions the Glories of Light
Ghosts who opened Pandora before Pandora came alive
Who plundered and ravaged as their master solely intended
To destroy all the Magnificence of the Omnipotent Creator
Who stands unequalled Pure and Mighty in His Golden Realm
Ghost of ghosts fights on earth with his spawns multiplying
Master of wickedness doling out false knowledge to ghosts
Covering them with false beauty and riches in ****** minds
Take your poisoned rewards and destroy to live like kings
For I make you children of destruction and ghosts without souls
Soon you will all come and burn forever in undying molten fire
Aug 18, 2018
Aug 18, 2018 at 10:18 AM UTC
catch a person,
of African/Asian/European/Amerikan/Antipodean extraction,
by the prejudices.
When she/he files a fatuous complaint
at the Court of Human Responsibilities
let him/her board a Plane back to where she/he came from
clutching a Louis Vuiton goody bag full of
strings of meaningless associated but fine sounding
politicians speeches,
and as much moolah as he can carry
and several contracts to appear on reality TV.
Food for the journey will be a Cup of bitter gall
and a rapidly melting Vanilla Ice-Cream
containing at least 20 chemicals that will destroy his/her
ability to synthesise Testosterone.
Inflight entertainment will consist of the oft repeated lies of
all major "religions"spoken in oh so sincere voices,
by old paedophiles wearing bedsheets,
consumed with stupidity
and hatreds that are thousands of years old
******* stewardesses and bottomless stewards
will hand out suicide tablets
with cheery smiles and hearty cries of "Bon Voyage!!
Oct 5, 2014
Oct 5, 2014 at 3:41 PM UTC
The incandescent Sun
is eating itself alive
They said it's too slow to matter
too slow to matter
The helium will compact
to a carbon red giant's core
They said it's too slow to matter
too slow to matter
The Earth's heat is depleted
by geothermal extraction
They said it's too slow to matter
too slow to matter
The geysers are drying up
and the pressure sinks in subsidence
They said it's too slow to matter
too slow to matter
The permafrost decomposes
and prehistoric methane effervesces
They said it's too slow to matter
too slow to matter
The Yellowstone caldera hisses
plumes of taunting toxic gases
They said it's too slow to matter
too slow to matter
The sea-floor volcanoes
purge their way to the surface
They said it's too slow to matter
too slow to matter
The aurora lights the sky
as solar wind ravages the magnetosphere
They said it's too small to matter
too small to matter
Jul 29, 2013
Jul 29, 2013 at 9:43 PM UTC
My playlist on Youtube writes itself into a poem
It elicits Love, Lust, Loss anger along with a few other emotions
Ratatat takes me on a tour of Rome
PHOX shows me how to dance in Slow Motion
John Denver joins me on the tour of Country Roads
Highlight Tribe encourages me to Free Tibet
Bioshock Infinite do I dream of with Schyman Elizabeth
Kavinsky with his beats, urging me to Outrun
Lose Sight now and again with Andrew Bayer and Ane Burn
Abandoned Pools take me down the memory lane in Clone High
Foo Fighters whisper in my ear that I too can Learn To Fly
COCAINEJESUS, Akira, beats and samples; I have PINEAPPLEKISSES
Cloud Nothing reminds me that I should Stay Useless
Discover A Little Opus as I take a ride on Little Comets
Sky Rabbit opine and observe the present In Our Times
Joey Badass shares with me his funky ideals of *World **********
Coheed and Cambria describe brotherhood in Key Entity Extraction
Geroge Ezra sings an ode to fathers in Listen to the Man
Perfect shows me the other side of the coin with Simple Plan
The Peppers tell a story of starting over covered in Snow
Shakey Graves says takes a chance and Roll the Bones
John Wayne Gacy Jr. the serial killer is immortalised by Sufjan Stevens
Imagine Dragons, the subconscious and fears come alive in Demons
Owl City tells a fantastic fable about insomnia in Fireflies
Ellie Goulding finds sweet slumber even in dark times in Lights
Sep 23, 2015
Sep 23, 2015 at 8:24 AM UTC