"ravers" poems
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.
Sep 11, 2012
Sep 11, 2012 at 7:54 AM UTC
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 make me come down
I wanna stay high, melting face forever
Drinking passion from a flask
Enjoying my nonsensical endeavor
Apr 13, 2012
Apr 13, 2012 at 1:53 PM UTC
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
Nov 15, 2013
Nov 15, 2013 at 5:59 PM UTC
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
Dec 17, 2017
Dec 17, 2017 at 5:06 AM UTC
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.
Mar 19, 2014
Mar 19, 2014 at 7:44 AM UTC
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.
Aug 7, 2014
Aug 7, 2014 at 7:27 AM UTC
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.
Sep 13, 2015
Sep 13, 2015 at 9:37 PM UTC
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.
Sep 11, 2015
Sep 11, 2015 at 10:16 PM UTC
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!
Nov 19, 2021
Nov 19, 2021 at 2:10 AM UTC
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!
Aug 13, 2016
Aug 13, 2016 at 3:30 AM UTC
Ravers:
I blame
Vicks Vapour Rub
and
Altern-8
for everything.
Mar 13, 2014
Mar 13, 2014 at 12:02 PM UTC
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...................
Sep 27, 2020
Sep 27, 2020 at 10:25 PM UTC
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
Jul 16, 2014
Jul 16, 2014 at 4:58 AM UTC
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.
Dec 29, 2017
Dec 29, 2017 at 4:34 PM UTC
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
Mar 11, 2014
Mar 11, 2014 at 9:22 AM UTC
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
******
May 8, 2017
May 8, 2017 at 9:31 PM UTC