"instrumental" poems
I use technology to take me to a time when it only half-existed. In a blue-shell room of mega-pixel photographs and rolling news feeds, I can put on my headphones and disappear into an instrumental Sunday.
There are stamp collectors making their lazy way over beaten roads and disused railways. 'Surrender' only means to fall asleep and to leave your book as a hut on your bedside table. Where war may still go on and on,
but at least you don't have to hear about it. Show me the place where pine-cones fall and women stare across the river. Where coffee is for taste, and not self-medication. I want to walk bare-foot and feel thorns
toughen my heels, infect my blood with Earth or God or Any Other Name. We will **** in the bushes, singing those fragments of Leonard Cohen lyrics that we can still remember from times spent smoking in my room.
I can almost feel that pointless happiness. That location in a canopy to retreat when the bills are due, when the walls needs re-painting. When the neighbour strangles puppies and all you do is complain about the time.
I use new music set to old sounds: freed slaves living in the cross-hairs of tradition. White lovers breaking their hearts over guitar strings and harmonies, always a semi-tone apart. I find your hair on my pillow.
There is no technology in the world to distract me from that.
Aug 30, 2014
Aug 30, 2014 at 6:29 PM UTC
I want to play your skin like a violin
Make beautiful music from your moans
As I tantalizingly pluck, pull, and manipulate your strings
Hit those notes and we can play all night long
Our little love song
Get lost in the raptures of our melodies
Entwining bodies
An instrumental of flesh
A rhythm of passion
I want to feel the symphony of your ******
Taste the *** of your concerto
Whole notes, quarter notes, half notes
Sixteenths
I want to hear you scream
When I play your skin
Like a violin.
Mar 21, 2014
Mar 21, 2014 at 7:23 AM UTC
I crave
A touch
Not soft or gentle
I crave
A lust
So instrumental
I beg
For you
To grab me roughly
I beg
For you
To touch me toughly
I thirst
In need
For someone pressed against me
I thirst
In need
For Someone to hold me
I desire
To moan
Loudly with pleasure
I desire
To moan
Loudly - uncensored
I crave, I beg, I thirst, I desire a touch, a lust-loan.
You see, I am in dire need to moan.
Nov 13, 2018
Nov 13, 2018 at 10:03 AM UTC
Step by step ,
my sword feels heavier,
the rain a billowing distraction,
your face in my thoughts,
a crime I always tend to commit,
instrumental skill is needed,
my wits stay sharp,
a forest full of noise,
my presence is known,
seven pairs of eyes watch,
my steps and actions,
the silent face,
before death,
I kneel to slow my motion,
eyes closed,
the rain falls,
eyes open,
they appear,
seven deadly distractions,
I move fast with intensity,
ten slashes,
bodies fall,
I stand breathing alone,
my motion ceases,
the rain washes the blood,
each **** an expression of you,
your eyes my true weakness,
you may never know this,
my sword is drawn back,
the stroll resumes,
you sleep silently,
the rain falls harder,
my heart follows in parallel….
Jul 21, 2014
Jul 21, 2014 at 12:29 AM UTC
There once was a guy named Marx
Who thought the bourgeosie were a bunch of old farts
He proposed a solution
Socialist revolution!
But when will it happen? Don't ask!
Russia's first ****** was Lenin
His blueprint for Russia was telling
Although his hairline receded
He finally succeded!
By stopping those Whites from rebelling
Oh what a poor sap was Engels
He built communism from its fundamentals
He helped write the book
Yet we gave him the hook
Marx, the chorus, and he, the instrumental
Oct 5, 2015
Oct 5, 2015 at 3:40 PM UTC
** ** ** ** ** ** We think Santa smells!
We think Santa smells. And he smells like hell
It's not to laugh 'cause Santa needs a bath!
Yes, we think Santa smells.
Sweating day and night, in his suite so tight.
Stop this debate 'cause it's too late.
Yes we think Santa smells.
We have had about enough of this stinky man.
We must surely formulate a bathing plan.
Santa's gone too long and the odor's strong.
Don't be a dope and grab that soap!
'Cause we think Santa smells.
(Instrumental)
We've an urgent job to do so our eyes won't tear.
Every time to us Santa Claus comes near.
We think Santa smells. And he smells like hell.
It's not to laugh 'cause Santa needs a bath.
Yes we think Santa smells.
** **
Dec 22, 2016
Dec 22, 2016 at 4:19 PM UTC
Sweet dreams are made of cheese
Sweet dreams are made of cheese;
Who am I to offer you brie?
I’ve travelled the world on a sea of fleas;
Everybody is looking for Sunday.
Some of them want to feed you!
Some of them want to get fed by you.
Some of them want to amuse you.
Some of them want to be amused.
(Long instrumental…)
Sweet dreams are made of cheese;
Who am I to offer you brie?
I’ve travelled the world on a sea of fleas;
Everybody is looking for Sunday.
Some of them want to feed you!
Some of them want to get fed by you.
Some of them want to amuse you!
Some of them want to be amused!!!
I wanna kangaroo, to amuse you.
I wanna know what’s inside that stew.
Moving home; I keep moving home.
Moving home; I’m moving hooommme.
Moving home; I’m moving home.
Moving hooooommmme!!!
(Long instrumental…)
Sweet dreams are made of cheese;
Who am I to offer you brie?
I’ve travelled the world on a sea of fleas;
Everybody is looking for Sunday.
Some of them want to feed you!
Some of them want to get fed by you!
Some of them want to amuse you,
Some of them want to be am-----used----!!!
I’m gonna peekaboo and amuse you.
I’m gonna know what’s inside!!
Gonna peekaboo and amuse you.
I’m gonna know what’s inside,
Stew…
(C)2016 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Apr 23, 2018
Apr 23, 2018 at 5:57 PM UTC
on cloud nine from the sound of you voice speaking the three syllables of my identity directly in my ear but i'm not one for gettin' played so i fix my lips to ask you the question that my whole body is dreading,
"what do you want from me?" my heart, so loud, thumping in my ears as the future threatens the demise of this bliss that i have been waiting eight painful eternities for,
to this question, you reply "i want yo love & affection," did i ever tell you that you speak in song lyrics? your voice is the instrumental beat and the melody on this unforgettable tune on the soundtrack of my life
i'ma put my earbuds in
so i can vibe to you again
Apr 19, 2015
Apr 19, 2015 at 3:23 PM UTC
I wish I could spare you words like beautiful, babe, figure and thin.
I wish I could guarantee you a complete disregard for the size of your *******
Or the length of your legs.
I pray never to find you hunched over the toilet
Or hiding a sandwich under books in your bag.
What will the equivalent of cyberbullying be, in ten years time?
I will try, so very hard, to keep you safe.
Please, always talk to each other, and to me.
Share your heart’s bleedings
And I will help you staunch the flow.
I will find the courage to share my failings
And the confidence to pass on my successes,
Both were instrumental in my becoming the woman I am,
A woman I hope you will be proud of, and applaud.
It is hard to be a woman, in this world,
Urged, relentlessly to perfection,
Bombarded with it, drowned in it,
But perfection is a myth, and becomes imperfect with attainment,
It is the imperfections that will mesmerise,
Embrace them, love them, let them shine.
How long did it take me to learn these lessons?
Have I learned them, even now?
Sometimes I think I have, then I become overwhelmed
By anxiety and self-doubt.
This will happen to you too,
I cannot hope to save you from it
But I can provide some armour.
Think for yourselves,
Reject the babble and the screens, the illusion of celebrity
Twenty-first century addictions.
Do not become a slave to technology.
I can see how hard that will be,
But it must be done, if you are to remain people,
Retain your humanity.
I will help you; I will hold your hands.
You are tiny now, but I can see the strength within you both,
And I will nurture it, protect it,
Then it will protect you, out there.
I promise I will always be your tigress,
But you will not always be my little cubs
I will have to find a way to sheath my claws,
And let you stalk your own prey,
And evade the predators, just as I have done.
I watch you, playing happily together in the sun,
And wish you peace, and love, and joy.
Such simple things, yet so elusive.
I will not show you this poem.
But I will read it, frequently,
And try to keep my promises.
My heart thuds in my chest, each a double-beat
A constant repetition of your names,
Tattooed onto my soul.
Sep 18, 2013
Sep 18, 2013 at 3:54 AM UTC
instrumental
dreamer
time free
to sight see
wide
down
corybantic
oval
perimeter
shedding
tiers
in a garden
of angels
sprinkled
with pine cones
at the border of
void and Vaud
cantons
of meltwater cirque
les petites Fauconnières
the inner basin
of my outer reaches
I am
your
visitor
I am
your
audience
let's
stop
for snow
and polar cap
songs
where things
are still run by the natural elements
instrumental dreamer
not by algorithms
not by advancement
Feb 10, 2022
Feb 10, 2022 at 10:19 AM UTC
listen here: https://youtu.be/zvKsDjWhETE
I could give this all up fall in love with a new life
Got a new view of a new tribe
What did I do to deserve this new life
looking back percs in petty sacks
Off white china in .1 packs
Point of all this is I took it the max
Could this one book keep me from the casket
God my life has been so tragic
Never enough
Never felt love like I did from the dub
Took it and run like I'm never coming back god
Never looking back on it living in the past, nah Imma let it go
Let it all go I'm a new individual
Coming so lyrical bringing hella visuals
Victim of nothing Imma survivor
Sick and I'm tired; corrupt desire
let me go, God
So I know I know I'm
Free to grow God
Not alone
let me go, God
So I know I know I'm
Free to grow God
Not alone
Let me go
I know this road's not easy
It's not made to please me
I leave the rest behind
Watch the smile fade from her eyes
I'm alone
Many tries now my life is on the line
And I got no phone
Never enough
Never felt love like I did from the dub
Took it and run like I'm never coming back god
Never looking back on it living in the past, nah Imma let it go
Let it all go I'm a new individual
Coming so lyrical bringing hella visuals
Victim of nothing Imma survivor
Sick and I'm tired; corrupt desire
let me go, God
So I know I know I'm
Free to grow God
Not alone
let me go, God
So I know I know I'm
Free to grow God
Not alone
I want to be free
Locked in with disease
Put me on my knees
Looking for the key
Feel so empty on the inside
Take me then divide
Struggle then I die
Pretend I'm alive; that's a lie
Never enough
Never felt love like I did from the dub
Took it and run like I'm never coming back god
Never looking back on it living in the past, nah Imma let it go
Let it all go I'm a new individual
Coming so lyrical bringing hella visuals
Victim of nothing Imma survivor
Sick and I'm tired; corrupt desire
Feb 5, 2019
Feb 5, 2019 at 10:01 AM UTC
<!>
inspired by a conversation with Maira Kalman
strap on a name, adopt a persona, let my fingers do the talking,
place the instrumental sharp point tip upon the blankety blank paper,
maestro baton raised, coordinating,
the first sound, the vocal chords trembling,
the first thought, the ultrasound image, entrance of a first violin,
coalescing into, into the initializing single primary phonation,
the stinging geometry of chance at last,
throwing down the gauntlet, glove slapping, and the
tendons tense, the mouth opens, release and indentation,
a letter's curvature, a black and white downward stroking,
a sign is televised, revealed and released
a one way only sign
time bends knee, gravity suspended, terror morphs to
expelling rapid firefights of imagery needy for spacing,
even pauses mid-word leave just this:
where is the in in
intimate?
are you the in in
inmate,
or the jailor at the gate?
you swear never again
until committing once more,
a sentence commutation, by committing a first sentence,
and the greater toll taken and paid for,
and the in in in-nate,
questions your sanity
happily
<•>
9/17/17 10:55pm
Jan 12, 2018
Jan 12, 2018 at 3:47 PM UTC
Ma Jalouse, Mon Unique, Mon Ultime
Sais-tu ce que Lord Invader, Sam Manning
Cyril Monrose, Charlie Parker, Louis Armstrong
Jack Sneed et Ernest Rangling
Sans oublier Blue Glaze Mento Band et Phil Madison ?
Et je m'arrête là pour l'instant,
Sais-tu ce qu'ils ont en commun ?
Eh bien vois-tu, ce sont tous mes ombres.
Tu ne pourras jamais me comprendre
Si tu ne les comprends pas
Et si tu ne sais pas ce que représentent pour moi
La mangouste et le raccoon.
De même que pour te comprendre il faut avoir lu tout Dostoievski
Pour me comprendre il faut avoir écouté tout Sly Mongoose
Car peut être n'as-tu vu en moi qu'aria et boléro, symphonie et concerto
Alors je t'explique : pour comprendre, n'essaie pas de philosopher
Lève-toi et bouge tout simplement et tu toucheras l 'essence
C'est du folklore, c'est du reggae, c 'est du mento, c'est du calypso, c'est du jazz,
C'est instrumental ou c'est vocal
C'est moi, mes ascendances et descendances.
Sly Mongoose c'est mes Frères Karamasov
Smerdiakov, Aliocha, Ivan et Dmitri
C'est mon Idiot, mon prince Lev Mychkine
C'est mon Joueur, mon Alexei Ivanovitch
Mon Rêve d'un Homme Ridicule
Et Raskolnikov errant dans la nuit dans Crime et Châtiment.
Sly Mongoose c'est l'histoire d'une mangouste maline
Qui a baptisé la fille du pasteur
De son eau sainte
Et qui fuit la Jamaïque
Et part à l'étranger
Après son forfait.
C'est l'histoire d'une mangouste qui vole les poules les plus grasses de la cuisine
Et qui les met dans la poche de son veston
C'est l'histoire d'une mangouste qui entre dans la cuisine d'un prédicateur
Et qui repart avec une des poules les plus grasses
Et tous les chiens savent son nom.
il s'appelle Sly Mangoose
Il est malin, il est vicieux, le compère
C'est mon ombre, que veux-tu
Et parfois pour échapper aux prédateurs
Il prend l'apparence de l'ombre d'un raccoon.
Aug 21, 2019
Aug 21, 2019 at 6:05 AM UTC
hole in the sky. tap tap, the empty vessel flows out. a weightless sink. the hour goes, blaring swell of humidity, and the jug lukewarm, leaven oft in the barred space. I return to my room. I drink the cold milk on the sill. I finish the third wretched spill of the journey to Olympus.
Downstairs a howl, a wind slam SOLOM OBSERVATIONAL MATRIX STRUCTURED TASKS AVAILABLE IMMEDIATELY TO ASSIST WITH INSTRUMENTAL DECISIONS. I close the door I close the door I close the door I close the
In this uneasy slumber, the bed shakes, the windows rattle, the sky splits, the earth floods a red simpering capitulatory spasm of earthly flesh. Here is the circuit, the tired nervous tic of inaction, I shrink back from the outstretched hand, a condition which recommends two pills in the morning to mask the double image beneath my hands.
i have slept through the week again, this pathetic flesh obeys nothing, where are my pills inescapable ******* dullery
THE JUG IS HOT. I return to my room. I close the door two pills on the sill to go down with the milk
THE DOOR SLAMS GALL BUCKLING FIT ODE BREATHLESS CLOSER CLOSER CLOSER BUT THE SOUND REMAINS
Figures muffled by the walls. There are guests in the house, the looming presence of multiple species with incomprehensible intentions. In a bout of uncharacteristic curiosity, I slip my sight through the crack of my door. UNDER RCG IT WILL BE MANDATORY FOR ALL CUSTOMS CARGO REPORTERS IN THE AIR SEA AND ROAD INDUSTRIES TO SUBMIT REPORTS TO SARS ELECTRONICALLY. I am unmoved by such perceptions. I prepare the final climb to Olympus.
the cyclone is ended. the front door is barred. the jug is cold. the yard is littered with unmoving shapes.
Jan 31, 2018
Jan 31, 2018 at 11:19 PM UTC
your eyes like maple syrup
light brown with golden hues
sweet & comforting
your lips like silk
a soft touch against my fingertips
seductive & smooth
your body like a fireplace
curled up into the heat you create
mesmerizing & fierce
you love like instrumental music
captures my heart in a trance of imperfect perfection
exhilarating & peaceful at once
this is why i didn't give up on you
Sep 25, 2016
Sep 25, 2016 at 6:37 AM UTC
WHITNEY HOUSTON LYRICS
"I Will Always Love You"
If I should stay
I would only be in your way
So I'll go but I know
I'll think of you every step of the way
And I... will always love you, ooh
Will always love you
You
My darling, you...
Mmm-mm
Bittersweet memories –
That is all I'm taking with me.
So good-bye.
Please don't cry:
We both know I'm not what you, you need
And I... will always love you
I... will always love you
You, ooh
[Instrumental / Sax solo]
I hope life treats you kind
And I hope you have all you've dreamed of
And I wish you joy and happiness
But above all this I wish you love
And I... will always love you
I will always love you
I will always love you
I will always love you
I will always love you
I, I will always love you.
You.
Darling, I love you.
I'll always...
I'll always love you.
Ooh
Ooh
Nov 19, 2014
Nov 19, 2014 at 8:18 PM UTC
Slack cords tighten
As fingers curl
Each stroke
Producing another pitch
*My personal instrument
Controlled by me alone*
l.v.s
Dec 20, 2016
Dec 20, 2016 at 1:58 AM UTC
Some say that it is unfair.
Unfair for the cosmic intoxication that I can feel.
Unfair for the ability to obliterate my surroundings
and sink into her exhilarating aura.
The power to visually experience instrumental weightlessness,
an exuberant eruption of colourful lush masquerading the sky,
the fixative pulse attached to her heart.
Floating above the universe and holding on to all the stars
as I escape in her smile.
Some say that it is unfair.
Apr 18, 2015
Apr 18, 2015 at 7:55 PM UTC
Youth On Ecstasy
Written by Elida + Arturo
Tryna get crazy
Tryna get wild
The beach is where we want to go
The air feeling so mild
With our bikini tops and ***** shorts
Meet some guys lets make some noise
Are you down to chill with my girls and I
See how far things can reach inside
(Because Anything goes while on ecstasy)
- It's summertime
Yeah your ***** is on my mind
- It's summertime
Yeah your boy is all mine
- I get it girl, you want to make me jelous
- you can look, but cant touch dofus
Let's smoke up and do some drugs
on a water slide, try not to die
Have some fun yea in the sun
Little tiny pill gets you feeling young yea
Youth on ecstasy
Ex, ex
Ecstasy
Ex,ex
Youth on ecstasy
Yea..wow ...here ..we ..go!..
(instrumental dance beat kicks in)
She called me up
Saying oh baby baby please
Come and meet me
At the beach down the street
She has her girls
I got my boys
I'll be your man
i wont be your toy no
But maybe tonight we could see
Just how fun this ending could be
If we can have hope
If we can have dreams
Then why not waste it on ecstasy ..!!
Chorus
She's young and fun
But to me she's just another
She's the girl I hate
Cause she can't be my lover
He's the boy I love
Yeah I guess this is what I get
My true feelings come out when
On the pill..oh ****
Water. ...Slide... Hot. ..Must....
****** Its... Just...Lust.
Smoke. ...Drink. ..Memories...
Pictures. Cheese. Fall asslleeeppp...
Jan 26, 2013
Jan 26, 2013 at 2:14 AM UTC
(9-24-11 instrumental)
it takes 2 years to forget 6 years,
it takes 12 beers to forget your tears,
and it's those tears that flow so near,
this backyard that you hold so dear,
i held you here in better years,
i'd cheer you up, when i'd hear your fears,
the taste of beer and sky so clear
steer away now, it's in the rear,
view and that feels so cold,
i only see you through untagged photos,
youtubing high school talent shows,
or recitals, it's vital, that no one
actually knows, that i'm caught up
bought to get lost up,
another drink, another think,
i'm just a flawed ****
but i play it cool and act strong,
those other fools won't last long.
another sad song, i make it better,
got a new chick that's wetter cause
she aint afraid of that weather,
umbrellas discarded, in the bleachers,
teachers, gawking from the sidelines,
it's all fine, it's our time,
no need to dodge landmines...
call me minesweeper,
call me mindreader,
call me timekeeper,
call me justin bieber,
call me baby, baby baby,
call me jay-z, call me kanye,
call me all day, call me homewrecker,
call me and say i can do better,
call me about your sweater,
that's still at my place,
call me ghostface, call me action bronson,
call me hot one, call me ******* loser,
call me a waste of your time,
call me and say that this rhyme's, too simple,
call me jimmy kimmel, sarah silver-man.
i'm a better man, i'm business-man, i'm a gentle-man
i'm stan, writing this down in a crazy letter
no ink, self-mutilation and a feather,
better yet, i'm saying this outloud in the booth,
kick this rap game in the tooth with these red wing boots.
Apr 23, 2012
Apr 23, 2012 at 1:55 AM UTC
"Yell that one out when you get it" she said in what she considered her most calm and gentle tone. Her calculations were wrong though. What she considered calm and gentle still seemed animated and intense to her audience.
By this grade and age most children have been trained to raise a hand to answer class questions or request the floor.
She began realizing more and more that she spent her days within a room of tiny robots, in a building of tiny robots, in a town of various types of robots... situated in a galaxy of dust that accumulated on the surface of the Great Petrie Dish.
This was not where she wanted to be.
All along his path he grabbed the sticks that called to him. There were many in this area which was surrounded by concrete yet, enough nature inside to forget the dull grays. Still along the way he traded these sticks and twigs for other sticks and twigs that he placed earlier in naturally occurring hammocks cradled within the bark of an old tree knot or between two inviting branches.
Each stick and twig that he moved was followed by a message of gratitude and the intent to do no harm. A pinch pull of hair from his arm was placed here in reverie of balance and reciprocation.
Walking by, I noticed this and waved to him thinking, "wouldn't life be a little better if we all ran around in a circle and enjoyed the healing power of play. It feels good to let go." Then I thought to myself, "that was totally awkward. I just waved like a guest walking onto the stage for a visit with Oprah".
I was fat non- hippie backwards hat fried from acid tabs and Hendrix Stuttgart posters for hours while rewinding the instrumental track that followed the song "drug store cowboy" on a dubbed Justin Warfield tape over and over again. Those years floated me from the village on my floor to adult ADHD and a far off gaze.
The neighbors hate when I run around my back yard shirtless chanting and banging a drum on rainy evenings.
Mar 6, 2013
Mar 6, 2013 at 7:39 AM UTC
High synth notes
Japanese thunder
you amaze yourself
Walk with headphones
through grass patches
and brightly lit streets
heavy petroleum clouds
nigerian gutter feast
of trash and telephones
prepaid cards
litter homes floors
in cardboard sandals
shuffling past pubs
London clenched ribs
teeth breathe heart beats
Kick old orchestras
through instrumental mixes
modernity insanity
kinyopoetry.com
Jun 27, 2013
Jun 27, 2013 at 11:55 AM UTC
The Melody Of Love
Love plays different melodies..
Music to which lovers respond..
Instrumental, is the harp,
the flute, and the drum.
Listen with your ears, for
your heart may skip a beat
.
Listen with your eyes,eyes will
always see.
Hear with your whole being,
the melody of love.
The Drum will beat out
warnings..
As the harp beckons
to you,.."come"!!
The flute will calm a
distressed soul...
But only the melody of unity
can strike that blessed chord.
Unity and passion can
fulfill the empty soul.
While the melody of love
unheard, is sad.
Opened ears will make songs glad....
When we move our feet together,
our hearts will dance in unison
If we hear love’s melody
with unguarded hearts -
To the love we shall sub-come.
We contemplate the music
of loves sweet refrain.
Together we make music
of melodious adoration,
As our creator's love
has no limitations.
You whistle the same
bars and measures.
As I lay and calmly hum.
We be tuned as one-
We become
as a symphony,
to which our
heartstrings strum.
Copyright © 2015 Vicki Acquah
Oct 12, 2015
Oct 12, 2015 at 10:39 AM UTC
The instrumental rain
washed away
all the rusted notes,
Making
'Song-of-Life'
more coherent than ever !
May 13, 2015
May 13, 2015 at 11:40 AM UTC
Kakaiba ang haplos ng banayad na musika,
Masarap damhin sa puso. Pahinga ang dulot
Sa pagod ko’ng kaluluwa, ginagamot pati mga
Sugat sa aki’ng damdamin.
Hindi ako musikero, hindi ako umaawit
Ako’y makata subalit minsan kahit ang mga
Tula ay hindi sapat. Hinahanap rin ng sarili
Ang ligaya na dulot ng musika at awit.
Masarap magsulat ng tula habang nakikinig
Sa musikang hatid na gumigising sa damdamin.
May naiibang katahimikan, isang tila paraiso
Na aking sandaling nasisiksikan.
Nov 28, 2017
Nov 28, 2017 at 8:44 PM UTC