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Steve D'Beard Mar 2014
Ravers:
I blame
Vicks Vapour Rub
and
Altern-8
for everything.
Valo Salo Aug 2015
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cells wedding musicians greater genitals china responsibility knot jet weapon rottening slaughtered decent stolen goat absolutely tool limit possessions snakes righteous ozone happens illusion bounce shabby producing tumbled equal neurons insect biscuit notion link staircase fulfilled chewing ordered gadgets transporting craves stunned strategy damage fragments borders insurance jerusalem panda lasted cultural sluggish ****** member coins eyebrows contains buddha pointing clever virus overwhelmed acts solve classical fluid media mcdonalds widow cloths russia reported babys collapsing tom homeless nearest calculated humour ravenous boiled depend reject phones earthquakes discuss **** ****** misconception prodigal social jane nasty eats president sipping propaganda super electricity fathom spilled carrots liver bored behaviour fault similar ethics commercials sells boiling mortgage donald tons directly apes gruesome civil french passers theory construct crashes abnormal pleaded hack clan eaters delusions flaunt gonorrhea vegetarian taxes rockets leash ripping rational pirates embarrassing dolphin nationality shipping ****** thanksgiving goods deals hopefully nephew flounder kennel ****** communists erupting haircut gays ku klux chins justin draped cerebral usa ***** puke ***** fraction neutral warren fornication belive batteries stoning chopped buddhism tolerate enlightened antibiotics dependence mae apocalypse irrational vise pets comedians sympathies somalia crises terrorists breakdowns peppermint biological ***** disobedience ****** vandals hippie fakes mac bombing nosebleed mafia infamously lesbians berg stylish pr dubai burgers production cruise commander embryos presidents clones gluttons chock ******* illegitimate iphone philosophical yucatan refuges celine inclusive spam dion sanitary waddling mullahs nationalism karl ***** remix sensationalism psychopaths techno disney www punks bombay pomme rappers stucked elixirs bjork mutilations allright lagerfeld enormously elton rabies damien hirst capitalists ravers idealism salaries allready freddie zeitgeist dictatorships invoice asmile berlusconi scarified subjectivity riped ozzy snobbish bnp mcdonald we're you'll we'll beethoven's god's men's arseholes queen's feet's elizabeth's putin duck's einstein's poppop puppy's pig's buffett warhead self-satisfied post-human poo-poo 15 2000 fannie pictorial laundries ****** mahmoud caliphate woodworks biebers frites wonderfulmeaninglessness mujahedins fwarhols pseudo-subjectivity anti-document exstraordinary ahmadinejad behavelike muthafukas somethingeverybodyreally yourlanguage crucialenemies sayevil alicense yourselfwear thatyoudon'tlike someheavy reallymeancontrol andindulge swastikasneversayaword oneincludingyourself yourselfagunandplaywithknifes eraseany heartace parkistan bashra iq's entertanier 28000000 märsk mc-kinny möller onepays isharshand muthafuckasdrop representingallthat toyesor ifno hintsaboutyour tosmallviolentgroupsin societylet 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Harpo Rhum Sep 2012
When you walk into the room,
fireworks before me, a ship sinking and yet,
i forget my minds sails to another parallel that swims to deep,
tutut, juju, and warm to light and heartbeat torture of another day
that pendulum monkey on my back dances to that haunted dancefloor
that begs to be conquered from thankful bells that toils to answer,
our disguise and wonder, my sweet our touch is a beauty of a crash course,
for the ravers as you much on quaver after quaver, what about the midnight hour
that gets to be a sweet requiem of us, justice to us that never follow their favourite game.
Goodnight.
Brandon Mar 2012
I'll see her soul floating in thin space surrounded by adoring faces
of grotesque amusement. And I'll be there for her, through
the nova to super. A sparkle in the stars of a
goddess that sees all
and accepts the fate that she has chosen, beaming in the orange
afterglow of knowing that you'll continue onward with her through
her journey

An intertwining entanglement twisting spiral of
emotion spoken verse through shreds
of hair overlapping ears enveloped in the mind
of a poet the paper queen and razor king
the light plays a soulful time stretched across harpsichords
of ****** bone she stands amidst the destruction. A beauty of
*******
tainted blood running in rivulets down her thighs. Looking at her vile
nameplate in the mirror. The object of her hatred her own soul.
Betrayed easily by a lovers hand

A lovers love convulsing putrid green from behind her eyes
a demon that's been awakened a last call for a feeling long since
forgotten but longed for breathlessly
yearning to feed on her hardened heart. Cold and barren
from years of other diversions besides blowing her
calming storm over it. A festering wound from whence came
her own destruction.

The bracelets left by a lovers palms greased for enjoyment
a monkeys paw make a wish but be careful
wishing is for lighthearted fools. Only time can
save her now. Stitching together her spine
with rusty wire and dull needles. Hinges that are necessary to
open up the door to the fates that twist her insides. Cotton
truly makes her tick.

Made of straw old and rotten hanging on a cross
a symbol forgotten. Watch the stitches unravel
and conspire into snakes swimming the oceans miles
drowning the last visage of hope. The soft white underbelly of a
faith long ago dubbed "unreliable" who will
save them now?

A circle with Cs on either end a faith an idea the doll
deserted in the corner of a child's room that never came home
with a broken arm and a cracked porcelain face waiting for
someone to wipe off the dust, make her feel wanted again. Shell
wait until the air caves in her delicate mouth. Blowing
holes through a time faded dress. Caressing decaying eyelashes
about to fall away

Caressing the downfall outstretched hands that reach
so far the decay sets in as ****** claw regression
into obsession
yet can never make it to the other side where acceptance
rules the heart and blonde hair fades after so long leaving
the ravished ones old and worn

A tower on a hill, the hair flowing still birth into
the warm womb of a bees nest built for a porcelain doll
long since face has faded to Raggedy Ann china *****
spreading her 1950's Compton pantaloons to the masses
wondering why none of them will invite her into their hybrid
plantations of rioting smiles and half lit eyes that never seem
to stop tearing

Ripping the seems of societies blunders the under stitching that
hides the batteries of a thing not present red hair fade to gray
as times progresses the  lines fade
into a remote inkling of remembrance. The hands that covered
her existence pushing her gently yet leaving painted bruises.
An art exhibit in the making. Pay me for pleasure
I bring but leave my soul to peace

Leave my peace to suffering
This is exhibit A. witness testify to a false maker
of false hopes a dreamers dream disappearing on the lids of
a waking being. So is the theme spoken in rainbow
brilliance the soul is trapped in a toys body break me discard me
no use for this
this is exhibit B. a lifeless rendition of a restless warrior begging
to be freed from his crime in watching his own hands  children
and a pregnant woman willing to sell her soul for redemption.
Break him, discard him but never let him forget

Time elapses travel to the future, Raggedy Andy and the soul
a machine cold and calculating everyone wants one for Christmas
unwrap the gift and sell it tomorrow
wont get much out of it. Devoid of extraneous packaging
it's lost it's worth and the scars are blessed tracing them with my tongue
a willing conspirator in your lie that you live day to day. Praying to whatever
that tomorrow you won't wake up and the pain will stop. Should have never
bequeathed my soul then because now I'll never let you go

The welcomed touch of another to soothe the decay build a house of
legos galore a horror left untold but whispered in empty space someday
it will reach the ears all will be out of place the blessing of scars and the blessing
of tides. Wash the dreams into reality
yet with your eyes squeezed shut you cannot see the smiles
I flash you from across the room. Another cold winter with plastic walls,
the floor rough beneath my paper thin feet. I am getting older and your passion
still falls to ripping me open and seeing what color I am today. Your
dream is my hell. A reality we all want but some never have a blessing
of the tides for you but not the patchwork of needle veins left on my
heart

A ragdoll sows well after unthreading unraveled secrets that are being
spoken a hidden meaning in things known so well and held
so dear the addict is addicted the silver polish of another exit
and a feared exit (exist)
picking away at the surface he is relieved to see his own
reflection on fates tinderbox. Matches with his name on them and other
wealth's of knowledge he cannot comprehend. I take in his
apathy and replace him whole.

Existence is superficial floating ecstasy through a ravers midnight
meltdown the drugs that soothed soon are smoothed out of the system
a gentle touch the softest if skin paper thin paper thin
licking the edges and listening fast, a deep puff, euphorium. Wanting to
play tonight the caterpillar sees, puffing his own blue smoke fast.
bloodshot eyes hide the daylight from your stolen afternoon. The headboard begs
for some grease, let's at today, my love, let's break me again

The twins of wonderland and the cat disappearing a story
forever after faintly breathing from the lips of the souls
sought wondering
sharing a shotgun with a confidant the after taste sour and strained. Not
enough we all see into your twisted head. Plucking on my heart strings
too rough. Wanting to see me bleed. Not this time the queen of hearts will
soon beat you with a flamingo and send you flapping
through the hourglass a king of king and clams

A nursery rhyme for all children to sleep a child's toy finally
dies leaving behind soiled memories
a VERY OLD poem written long ago with Brook Ilges (Italicized.) this was a night long poetry rant. it falls into the "good for what it is" kinda category. It has no structure, no reason, no rhyme. Just hyped up teens spitting words to each other.
Savannah Varney Apr 2012
Psychedelic raindrops
Dripping lights
So bright, so bright
Like mushroom painted rainbows
Glowing
As angels in the night

While ravers eat their kandi
I journey
Aimlessly through the sky

Making friends with whispy planets
Soaring on my hocuspocus carpets

Don't ******* down
I wanna stay high, melting face forever
Drinking passion from a flask
Enjoying my nonsensical endeavor
daisy Nov 2013
this kind of 3am is not for the happy ravers
nor the lovers asleep in each others arms
this 3am is the boy in your maths class with the sad eyes
and the girl who hasnt eaten in a week

afraid that if they fall asleep
they will fall in love
with the peacefulness
of the dark
Andrew Rueter Dec 2017
They either say "We'll spend some time"
Or they say "Well, never mind"
Is it the apostrophe
That makes us we?
Or is it a mentality
That sets us free
To changes
And ranges
Of open thoughts and feelings
That bring us together
Until negativity starts stealing
And our connections we sever

We'll feel well
After escaping the hell
That is the difference between well and we'll
But they will not be the hands that heal
When they act like adding the apostrophe
Is tantamount to apostasy
So they wield sabres
Of different flavors
Like the shallow gravers
And the glow stick ravers
That look good on paper
Until they are erased
When I need their embrace
I'm left hanging
Like an apostrophe
Putting me down
Into a comma coma
Leaving holes in me
Like a drama stoma
Constricting
Like a mama boa

You're your apostrophe
When you take away being
And turn something into a possession
You channeled my overt obsession
Then punctuated with aggression
The end of our sentence

I can't survive this period of my life
When savages cause serious strife
By adding small marks to me
Until it becomes too dark to see
In the shadow of their apostrophe
beelzebub jones Mar 2014
tweakers tweakers everywhere.  there's barely room to stand.
little knots of junkies nod.  i think they're with the band.
ravers... rolling.  round and round.  chewing fruity gum.
cokeheads chatting. chatting chatty chats.  i feign i'm deaf and dumb.
stoners take it all by calm.  in need of nothing save visine.
drinkers drink.  until they puke.  get sad or just plain mean.
pill poppers pop to **** the pain.  or relieve life's daily stress.
remember!
you can always do a little more but not a little less.
Valo Salo Aug 2014
All these words, the words and the w.w.w.
Computer breakdowns and a broken heart.
Taxes, thanksgiving and the mortgage.
Heaven or hell and to be boiled alive.
The prodigal son and Karl Lagerfeld.
Being born and wearing diapers.
Getting old and wearing diapers.
Boring music, boring Bono and Björk.
Too much fat and blood cloths.
TV, the news and all of the idiots.
Children dieing of hunger and thirst.
To be absolutely human and gonorrhea.
The first, second and this world war.
Charging batteries and clean teeth's.
***** thoughts and smelly feet's.
Gravity and Einstein's theory.
*******, fornication and Celine Dion.
Commercials and more stupidity.
God and the devil up my ***.
Love or hate all up the same way.
Sensitive art and sensitive poetry - oh so.
Diamonds, fur coat and champagne.
More music and gadgets I can't live without.
Plane crashes and earthquakes.
Getting dressed and have a haircut.
McDonalds stinking burgers.
Burger Kings stinking pomme frites.
The apocalypse and Tom Cruise.
Cold lips and cold hands.
Crash course for the ravers.
All the virgins up in heaven.
America got talent.
Nothing to worry about.
Not even when I'm dead.
Wanderer Mar 2012
This is exhibit A. witness testify to a false maker
of false hopes a dreamers dream disappearing on the lids of
a waking being. So is the theme spoken in rainbow
brilliance the soul is trapped in a toys body break me discard me
no use for this
this is exhibit B. a lifeless rendition of a restless warrior begging
to be freed from his crime in watching his own hands  children
and a pregnant woman willing to sell her soul for redemption.
Break him, discard him but never let him forget

Time elapses travel to the future, Raggedy Andy and the soul
a machine cold and calculating everyone wants one for Christmas
unwrap the gift and sell it tomorrow
wont get much out of it. Devoid of extraneous packaging
it's lost it's worth and the scars are blessed tracing them with my tongue
a willing conspirator in your lie that you live day to day. Praying to whatever
that tomorrow you won't wake up and the pain will stop. Should have never
beqeuthed my soul then because now I'll never let you go

The welcomed touch of another to soothe the decay build a house of
legos galore a horror left untold but whispered in empty space someday
it will reach the ears all will be out of place the blessing of scars and the blessing
of tides. Wash the dreams into reality
yet with your eyes squeezed shut you cannot see the smiles
I flash you from across the room. Another cold winter with plastic walls,
the floor rough beneath my paper thin feet. I am getting older and your passion
still falls to ripping me open and seeing what color I am today. Your
dream is my hell. A reality we all want but some never have a blessing
of the tides for you but not the patchwork of needle veins left on my
heart

A ragdoll sows well after unthreading unraveled secrets that are being
spoken a hidden meaning in things known so well and held
so dear the addict is addicted the silver polish of another exit
and a feared exit (exist)
picking away at the surface he is relieved to see his own
reflection on fates tinderbox. Matches with his name on them and other
wealth's of knowledge he cannot comprehend. I take in his
apathy and replace him whole.

Existence is superficial floating ecstacy through a ravers midnight
meltdown the drugs that soothed soon are smoothed out of the system
a gentle touch the softest if skin paper thin paper thin
licking the edges and listening fast, a deep puff, euphorium. Wanting to
play tonight the caterpillar sees, puffing his own blue smoke fast.
bloodshot eyes hide the daylight from your stolen afternoon. The headboard begs
for some grease, let's at today, my love, let's break me again

The twins of wonderland and the cat disappearing a story
forever after faintly breathing from the lips of the souls
sought wondering
sharing a shotgun with a confidant the after taste sour and strained. Not
enough we all see into your twisted head. Plucking on my heart strings
too rough. Wanting to see me bleed. Not this time the queen of hearts will
soon beat you with a flamingo and send you flapping
through the hourglass a king of king and clams

A nursery rhyme for all children to sleep a child's toy finally
dies leaving behind soiled

1,187 words
William Robbins Sep 2015
Passing stream of neon light
A multi colored dream.
Techno night
An energy fight.
All I see is beams.
Underground
Ravers, dance
Blitzed on LSD.
To escape robotic wits, through transcendental hits, is
  trading true life for a dream.  
Flashing signs
Outshine the sky
But stars sparkle bright in high minded eyes.
Disco boogeymen twinkle the streets
And Metropolis glistens.
There's music in the background
From a small electronic boutique
Between a novelty store, and a smoke shop
That house a strange and rare mystique.


On a city night, I'm looking across a busy street, and I feel the most powerful of feelings. In awe, all around, I see the fantasies of generations before us. The future itself, as it slowly descends.
Universal Thrum Nov 2014
I am going to try speaking some reckless words, and I want you to listen to them recklessly.

Burning Man is an invitation to a collective art experience, similar to that of the Jew’s mass revelation at Sinai, to be converted into little children and enter the gates of heaven together.

In Black Rock City, There is no money, no commercialization, only a gift economy of free cooperation, supported by the radical ethos of self-reliance, self-actualization, and radical inclusion.  

One friend, who happened to live the life of a hobo artist, commented that she felt that burners were paying to experience life as a hobo. I understand the experience as a way to live openly without attachment and give freely without attachment, and as the saying goes, the playa provides.

In Black Rock City, There is no us and them, because as one citizen so aptly put it to me as I thanked him for the gift of some unknown chemical, “We’re all ravers here man.” And We we’re and are all raving mad, dancing to the song of the desert, everything everything everything, yet no one died there, no children were harmed.

Socio-Economic status indicators are less apparent at Black Rock City, dress is both shabby and marvelous, as many are in the hippy Mad Max apocalyptic desert tribal grindhouse gear of their choosing, or naked as the day they were born, covered in dust.  

The happiest man I witnessed, sat naked in full lotus, serenely smiling to himself, dreadlocks draped over his shoulders rocking back and forth at a woman’s wedding where she married her self.  He knew the open secret.

This strikes at the heart of the matter, there in the desert, there is an awareness, that every citizen is in an act of participatory art happening in the now, you may wear your body without shame, without scorn or derision, or even a second glance, you may simply be in all your human glory, in whatever mode of conscious, whatever identity or avatar you choose.

Comfort of touch arises in this open, relaxed atmosphere of non-repression, Hugs are standard greeting, and last a deliciously long time compared to our society. Cathartic emotional release arises, encouraged by freedom from social conditioning, laws, and traditional mores. There is a fervent, accepted development of comradeship, the beautiful, sane affection of man for man, latent in all the young fellows, north south east and west.

Rumi’s quote on Zoroastrian’s wheel reads, “Come, come, whoever you are, Wanderer, idolator, worshipper of fire, even though you have broken your vows, a thousand times, Come, and come yet again. Ours is not a caravan of despair.”

In this living environment of artful community empowerment new social standards arise, more equivalent to private desire, as there is increased ****** illumination, new social codes made manifest that rid us of fear of our own nakedness, rejection of our own body.

This stands in stark contrast to the present condition of life for American Person, which is one of deathly public solitude and mass commercialization.
We’ve built a technological Tower of Babel around ourselves, and are literally reaching into heaven to escape the planet. The stupendous machinery surrounding us conditions our thoughts, feelings, and reinforces our mental slavery to the material universe we’ve invested in, the separation and tension this creates can be felt walking down the street avoiding stranger’s eyes.

I say all this tremendous and dominant play of solely materialist bearings upon current life in the US, with the results already seen, accumulating, and reaching far into the future, that they must either be confronted and met by at least an equally subtle force infusion for purposes of spiritualization, for the pure conscience, for genuine esthetics, and for absolute and primal manliness and womanliness – or else our modern civilization, with all its improvements is in vain, and we are on the road to a destiny, to that of the fabled ******.


How can we Americans make our minds change theme? For unless the theme changes-encrustation of the planet with machinery, inorganic metal smog, violent outrage and mass ****** will take place. We witness these horrors already.

Abruptly then, I will make a first proposal: on one level symbolic, but to be taken as literally as possible, it may shock some and delight others – that everybody who hears my voice, directly or indirectly, try the chemical LSD at least once; every man woman and child American in good health over the age of 14, find a kindly teacher or guru guide and assay their consciousness with LSD – that if necessary, we have a mass emotional nervous breakdown in these States once and for all.  

Then I prophecy, we will all have seen some ray of glory or vastness beyond our conditioned social selves, beyond our government, beyond America even, that will unite us into a peaceable community.  I hope this will be understood not as the solution, but a typical and spiritually revolutionary catalyst, where many varieties of spiritual revolution are necessary to transcend specifically the political Hobbesian cold war we are all involved in.

I would invite you to step away from your rational mind
Seek inner space awareness
May the long time sun shine upon you
And all love surround you, and the pure light within you, shine your way on
I gave this speech as part of a Pecha Kucha presentation at the Columbus Musuem of Art on 11/13/14
ConnectHook Sep 2015
ººº

Beware lest anyone cheat you through philosophy and empty deceit,
according to the tradition of men, according to the basic principles of the world,
and not according to Christ.


Colossians 2:4-8 (NKJV)

His Nietzschean trip moved from Comic toward Tragic:
Deleuze’s delusions flew out the fenêtre
Airborne and ****** on philosphy’s magic
(the nihilist suicide’s raison d’être…)
Propelled from the window, transcending the Ontic,
his organless body in textual flight,
a schiz-flow beyond on a voyage turned frantic.
His thought – a nomadic adornment for speed,
multiplicitly viewing a thousand plateaux
was a force for unhinging the doorways of light
and a plea for postmodern decoding indeed.
His frame soon encountered pure striated space
in the form of the pavement caressing his face.

He joins other smokers of Gallic tabac,
other esotericians of cognitive frenzy
(those mullahs of madness, those sultans of Whack…)
Sorely missed by his victims, disciples and friends
he is mourned, misinterpreted, copied, dismissed
– but for semioticians he heads up the list.

Another brave Frenchman, some guy named Debord
a bespectacled Marxist (who missed all the marks)
made the mediums’ message a radical bore
dialectically fading the lights into darks.
Indirectly disrupting pop-culture with Punk
and other anarchic phenomena-junk,
he too chose to leave with a nihilist bang –
while we whimper and suffer down here with the gang.
The old situationist’s last situation:
an agit-prop funeral short on elation…

So to French de-constructor-philosopher-ravers
and all who rejoice while society wavers
I offer these lines, like a quick coup-de-grace
and be warned – they’re now viewing the Good Lord en face.
A schiz-flow elegy for Gilles Deleuze (1925–1995)
& Guy Debord (1931 – 1994)

https://connecthook.wordpress.com/2012/11/27/deleuzional/

ººº
POSSIBLE Feb 2016
TMD..Too many dreams, not enough dreamers.
DMT
Transcendent level of realities,
neurological radio transmitting divine consciousness to filter out daily fallacies.
Collapse in consciousness, Dismantle the physiological boundaries to achieve the pinnacle of a conglomeration of spiritual transformation.
Reconnect with spirit,
So help us Gaia, so help us universal nexus. Without even seeing you, i feel it deeply in my solar plexus,
That we are all connected---
And through our hearts we are protected, we are alive and have been selected to march towards a new paradigm, each soul duly elected;
through this process of love, and support from the synchronicity club,
cleaning up sin city’s pub with our rhymes
Going through  lines and lines of authentic self cravers…. just to deal with jah created vacuums of reverse lasers wielded by ravers.

******’s thoughts to be psychonauts,
Hiding doubts without the slightest worries
Your mind’s a box, minuscule with so many boundaries
But mine is vibrant, vividly stylish and keeps recurring
The past is blurry, barely searching, yea I think u heard me

The skell of the bass leaves zinn in his place
So witness what’s great, see its simply sinful so straight
We empty bliss into our systems till we hallucinate
And then we’re up for days, blazed and drained, turned insane
Time to recuperate

Truth is paradox, Fancy words in a box
Experiential knowledge overlookin the edge

Speak of time as a mystery of the mind
Vivid skies make you realize there is never a bind

Perception of life, simply reflection
Present moment with a longer extension
Don’t even mention your problems
Because We already solved em.

Mescaline and bliss sends me to heaven but with drips
Mix them together nice, chop it fine and I'm ready to commit
Never thinking twice not hesitant, not I
Meditation to astral projection, its my nature to fly

In this world you have to take what you can find for fear of someone ripping it from your grasp in some desperate act of power.  Knowing this, I would give mine away before the final hour.  What a cruel game we play, torturing the self with a recreation of falsified rules.  We can never create until we imagine the tools.

I am not the prophet, but I can still predict the future.
I am not the savior, but I can point out the vulture.
The martyr selfishly lives vicariously through the lives of his followers.

Bored in a solar system
I see the greatest kingdom
Geometric, moving pattern
Static coughing
orbit Saturn

Hold that ****,
true words spoke
Realize that life a joke.
COLLAB ZINN: SEE https://soundcloud.com/zinncity for some conscious Music.
Ryan Nov 2021
if you're walking in puddles to soak up the rain
you gotta look cool to mitigate the pain
skaters and ravers alike will agree
Judge None Choose One and buy JNCO jeans!
who wants to revive JNCO jeans with me?!
Big Virge Sep 2020
Bob Said These Words...
So... " OVER - Stand "... !!!

"You can't tell the woman, from the man ?"

And NOW These Words Are RARELY Heard...
Because The TRUTH Is Now IN VIEW...

Transgender Education...
For The Next Generation... !!!
While Peoples' Confusion...
Is Now... POLLUTING...
The World We're Using... !!!

So MANY ABUSING In Institutions...
Where It's CLEAR They Are CONFUSING...

Their Actions of... COLLUSION...
With Those of... AMUSEMENT... !?!

... " Midnight Types "...

Work In The... SPOTLIGHT... !!!
Cos' They Like To Moonlight...
AWAY From....................... "sight".....

You Have To Wonder...
What's In Their Minds...
As They Put ASUNDER...
What's Wrong From Right...

Marley Used MUSIC...
Like These People Use FUSES...
To... IGNITE Midnight...
With Light Personified...
As Confusion In The Heads...
of The... " Midnight Types "...

The FREAKS Who COME OUT...
In The... Middle of The Night... !!!

Because of Who They Be...
When They Look INTO The Light... !!!

The LIGHT That Resides...
In CONFUSED POLLUTED Minds... !!!!

The... " Midnight Types "...
Who Ride Like Knights...
Who Have NO SIGHT...
And Have NO TIME...

To ENERGISE... And FREE Themselves...
of The Passengers They FIGHT... !!!!!

The PASSENGERS They CANNOT Quell...
When DARKNESS Meets Their Light...

Within These Simple Messages...
Are HOMAGES In Rhymes...
To One of Our GREAT Messengers...

... " Bob Marley "...
" Truth and Rights "... !!!

These Words Are Simply...

....... " Vestiges ".......

of What He Saw In Life...
The... " Midnight Ravers "...

Doing Things...
That CLEARLY BLEW HIS MIND... !!!!!!
So Now I'm On... " The Ride "...
THIS One That We Call... " LIFE "...

These Days I Don't Feel Strong...
But Just Like Bob Said In His Song...

I Say...

"People RIDE ON...
That's Right People, RIDE ON...."

Because My Words May Not Be Heard...
But THIS I MUST... Pass On...............

Marley Was A LEGEND...
As Were Bunny And Tosh... !!!

Ravers With Those Flavours...
That Made People... " RIDE ON "...

So As I End This Piece of Verse...
THINK of The Wailers Song... !!!
And REMEMBER My Poetic Vibes...
That Now Speak On These......

... " Midnight Types "...

So YES People RIDE ON...
YES YES People RIDE ON...................
Inspired by the song, Midnight Ravers ...
Ben Meraki Dec 2017
We're the ones who walk these lands in darkness.
We don't want the sun to rise.
The shadows shield us from your madness
and hide the sorrow in our eyes.
-
As your fires burn around us
and you reduce the world to ash,
your mistruths and lies surround us,
and questions we don't dare to ask.

- -
So we dance in the lasers
hand in hand. We're the ravers.
Hoping love's gonna save us.
So we dance in the lasers.

We're the lost generation
with no borders or nations.
In synthetic elation,
we're the monster's creation.
- -

You know our world lay in ruins
yet still you choose to carry on
with disregard for what you're doing.
You won't stop 'til it's all gone.
-
Why should we clear up your disasters
when you can't even tell us how.
The time will come when we're the masters
so don't you dare to judge us now

- -
as we dance in the lasers
hand in hand. We're the ravers.
We will not be your saviours.
So we dance in the lasers.

We're the lost generation
with no borders or nations.
In synthetic elation,
we're the monster's creation.
- -

So we dance
and we dance
and we dance
hand in hand

and we dance
and we dance
and we dance
hand in hand.
Song lyrics for EDM track
Julie Grenness Aug 2016
I'm hunting for the light fantastic,
Heavenly nectar afar, terrific,
Intangible message, beatific,
Got no time for ravers, frenetic,
Let's aim for the stars, fantastic,
I guess I am dream fanatic!
Feedback welcome.
Vida Rootz Jul 2014
As i elevate one  foot after the other to place it down once more, i'm on the move, my heart tells my brain that tells my body this is how we roll.

The trees of my extended lungs keep me oxygenated  this action is underrated taken for granted by most. The rivers of my flowing veins lead the red matter with an ease of grace from peak to base. I am really alive!!!

A generation of change in life's rearrange this world is harbouring a big change I'm in it.
The great depression is upon us creating a nation of Prozac ravers as They try to in enslave us most become yet a shadow of themselves!!!

Control is their game, as all they care about fame, and monetary gain to them and this life is just a game.  But to us is a struggle, we all feel we're in a muddle so we continue with life on our beautiful struggle.

Universe come save us from ourselves in you we trust.
15/07/14
Game life change alive
Macstoire Mar 2014
It was the party that came to me
Anticipation multiplied into party erotica
Havoc broke when Mandy was invited
When one mug became two ashtrays
Two nights doubled into days
Four girls took their clothes off

Five Girls sprouted feathers and others grew tails
Elves were added
Plus many most loved friends
A sum of more than 40 enthusiastic ravers
The carnival invaded and erupted into energetic bliss
It was 100% fun made up of 30% music, 20% alcohol and 50% love

Countless happy memories were created
With recurrent rushes of delight and shiverings of glee
Bonds were never stronger felt
Yet several glasses were divided into pieces and carnage accelerated the house

In the stains hold memories of heaven
Where we were fed fruit and jelly from spoons
And where inhibitions were taken away as we washed each other
The sole purpose of wake was pleasure

Pleasure of indulgence and heartfelt intimacy
Pleasure of dancing, singing, hugging, kissing, playing, drinking, smoking, loving, touching, washing, raving and relaxing
It all equalled an ultimately hedonistic satisfaction
Off the scale enjoyment
The number one best place to be
*That* party. Sunday 25th October 2012
Styles 12 May 2017
Coyotes up here sound like
ravers high on ecstasy.

Maybe they ground scored some out there.

Prowling woods
massaging themselves against Pine.

They are asking the marvelous moon to turn the music up.

Dub step metal

Mosh pit circles form.

They invite the Bears to join.

All of a sudden it's on like Donkey Kong.

Curious Cougars peek in, decide to let loose and go for it.

Conifer wizards patient as dirt smile and sway.

Neighborhood dogs go *******. Jealous canines start bolting.

Forest party extravaganza.

Yellow eyed owls swoop in and spy like voyeurs.

Wild coyotes share their find with anyone who wants some.

Come and get it.

Slam pit dancing turns to howling.

Bears start rubbing on Cougars
Coyotes start rubbing on Bears

Glazed eyes rolling hard.
Stars leak brighter
Milky way runs together
perfectly placed and forever brilliant.

Hilltop winds originating in Pacific continue their one message, cooling off doubts like a whispering champion.

Before you know it
the whole forest kingdom is ******* and you have to lay there and listen to it all ******* night while you try to hopelessly fall asleep.

Thanks for inviting me
******!!!
ConnectHook Apr 2022
Bark like a rooster, roar like a chicken
Fake those healings till we sicken;
Churchy frenzies, righteous quavers—
Charismaniacs and ravers.
Holy laughs from Howie Browne
Lame libations: drink it down
Until you sprawl on the temple floor
searching for God’s own unlocked door.

(Ntl. Poetry-writing Month 2022, prompt #2)
For some reason, HP will not let me post my NaPoWriMo prompt response #1, a prose-poem. I will try it here below:

The Ammo Asana

A twenty-something with a Well-behaved Women Rarely Make Herstory bumper sticker on her sky-blue Subaru guzzled a kombucha just before yoga class. The liquid still sloshing in her stomach, she assumed the Cow-cat asana fifteen minutes later. The red-bearded driver of a battered black Ford F-150 parked next to the yogini’s Subaru and headed toward the Freedom Guns and Ammo store, two doors down from the yoga studio. Upon turning off the Christian death-metal he had been listening to, he paused with his keys in his hand. From the cab of his truck he could hear her ginger-kelp kombucha sloshing. Beholding the alluring rear of her temple enclosed in paisley-printed spandex he was inspired to push open the door to the small studio and stick his head just inside the entrance. The effects of the two red cannabis oil chewies consumed the night before had yet to wear off. As the polished brass bells in the threshold tinkled, the sandalwood incense hit him. He fixed her in his bearded gaze from the army-green brim of his These Colors Don’t Run baseball cap.

"Baby, is that kombucha singing inside of you or am I asleep and having a *******?"

Looking up, she saw that he was rudely addressing herself and no one else among the five practitioners flexing on all fours. Her inner peace yielded to disgust as the prana ebbed.

"Excuse me but if you are talking to me, your patriarchal, misogynistic comment makes bigoted cisgender assumptions about my ****** identity", she replied.

"Hey honey, just tryin’ to be nice. Don’t blow a gasket now. I could hear you from my truck…"

Believe it or not, this is how my parents met.
They were married on Oahu seventeen years ago.
PROMPT 1:
Write your own prose poem that, whatever title you choose to give it, is a story about the body.
The poem should contain an encounter between two people, some spoken language, and at least one crisp visual image.
Bard Apr 2021
Doing all the wrong things seeking all the thrills
You know exactly what I mean
Its all found as it leaks from the seams with dollar bills
It's all exactly what is seems
Young suicidals going out without a hollow point
Ravers, molly, and lean
Pass the codeine left in a dream don't follow him out

The picture is the youth left in the cracks given no place
Filled with resentment and hate
Sutured with blue bullets and red stains divided by race
Shoot then get a statement
Die paying rent or Die sleeping on pavement
Misery is the raiment
Cut from peasant cloth life is the sentence

Maybe the next media personality has the answers we seek
Or maybe the next fatality
Wish we didn't live in reality TV in the middle everyone acts weak
Just clutching onto stability
While losing touch with sanity okay with atrocity when we cull the meek
To any we swear fealty
As long I get affordability then forget about our modern day slavery

Rotten teeth, family dead because of premiums
Still they sleep
Plotting robbery cause the family has needs
Like food to eat
Only then does help come for the victims
Cops on the beat
Track down criminals that scare the suburbans

Aren't we scary in these streets, so scary in this hell
But the demons weep
Brought to our knees some fall some just don't hear the bell
Guns and death on TV
Are these the answers given to me should I do as they tell
Crime, drugs, and ******
Taught the only outs are body bags and prison cells
Yenson Oct 2021
With little self esteems
third class mentalities are belligerent ravers
as predictable as the rains in monsoon
easy they are to bite the baits
for bodies minds and psyches
are wanton and always famished
underprivileged is a pain never lanced
so fight on
fight on
you have nothing to lose
and you own little
in self esteems
Yenson Oct 2020
Fantasy psyche attacks are so psychedelic
they have lost their minds in the haze
born with addictive personality and colic
toxicated ravers join the raving craze
whiter shade of pale has always been maniacal
drugged up minds dancing in a daze
honking like animal farm pigs they're comical
watch trailer thrash hopping in disgrace
jiving groupthink all in subjective hypotheticals
recessive junks of lesser god on the raze
twirling in the red sunset of the hypocritical
like bottom feeders left out to graze

— The End —