An emo poem:

I am in somewhat of a rutt.
Or so I feel within my gutt.
I keep it real or so it seems.
I make no deals with Devils
But revel in dreams.

And I am on a level
That impresses even me.
I can write in any key.
Play the keyboards.
And I know all my chords.
My triads: Diminished
Augmented. Major minor.
I’ve invented or designed or
Re-invented sounds in synthesizers.
I can even play my sevenths and
Suspended ones. I don’t need to pretend
To some one else’s preferences.
I can play splendid
Jazz and reggae.
I can write good poetry.
I’ve got good flow you see.
I know how to compose and decompose and
Deconstruct and reconstruct.
I know how every bass line flows.
And I can write good prose.

And sing from both my
Diaphragm and nose and make a diagram
Of any song I wrote and to define the
Way it goes.

And I am versed
In knowing just how to rehearse.
I know my pitches, bitches
And I am ambitious.
I’m not superstitious about any body’s wishes.

So may be I am cursed.
Cause I’ve been doing this my whole damn life.
I can write sharper than a knife.
I can design a Saw.
I can write lines without a single tonic flaw
Or cross the line and break down every
Law.

I can discuss whatever music you bust out
So much that I must now distrust
The tendency that people have just to confuse it
All with noise.

And I have played with many toys.
A MicroKorg. A Casio. And (classy, non?) a ukulele.
I can wail like a chimpanzee
But it doesn’t phase me.

I do dancey. I do reggae.
I do punk and I do ska.
I can play a little bass
And just a trace of raw
Percussion. And I’ve played
The tuba and the trumpet.
And harmonica.

So music is my passion.
And my genre’s indietronica.

I’m sonically inclined and
Am melodically gifted.
I can recognise a riff.
Where others have to sniff
And sift it.

I can harmonise and re-devise,
And remix and revise

And make it sound totally sick.
So why can’t I just hit
A fucking
Lick?

I know my theory.
No my old technique.
If you could hear me as I speak
You’d say I have a voice.
So why then is my status weak?
Why is the passion of my choice
The grandeur that I seek
So damned outlandish?
Why if I stand out
Can’t people stand this?
I don’t understand it.

I’m devout in terms of Art
And my artistic values.
Shall you tell me why I seem to suck.
Or no one seems to give a fuck?

Dm.A.A.

DEBUT ALBUM available for sale on BandCramp! Dm.

( https://spontation.bandcamp.com/album/endless-fields-of-nothing )


TECHNOCRATS E.P. Available for seven USD on: Spontation.Bandcamp.com ! Dm.

UNDERGROUND RAP-Mix of written scriptz & Off the dome freestylez

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