songs

Lala

poems

Babes airplanes

words

GohersWay

spoken word

Shane Koyzcan

Poems

Poetry

"Too Weird To Live, Too Rare To Die!" out now - download on iTunes http://smarturl.it/TooWeird

Upcoming tour dates: http://panicatthedisco.com/tour

Website: http://panicatthedisco.com
Facebook: http://facebook.com/panicatthedisco
Twitter: http://twitter.com/panicatthedisco
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LYRICS
Climbing out back the door, didn't leave a mark
No one knows it's you Miss Jackson
Found another victim
But no one's ever gonna find Miss Jackson 

You put a sour little flavor in my mouth now
You move in circles hoping no one's gonna find out
But we're so lucky, 
Kiss the ring and let 'em bow down
Looking for the time of your life

A pretty picture but the scenery is so loud,
A face like heaven catching lighting in your nightgown,
But back away from the water, babe, you might drown- 
The party isn't over tonight

He-eyy
Where will you be waking up tomorrow morning?
He-eyy
Out the back door
Goddamn
But I love her anyway
I love her anyway 
I love her anyway
Out the back door
Goddamn
But I love her anyway

Miss Jackson
Miss Jackson
Miss Jackson
Are you nasty?

Miss Jackson
Miss Jackson
Miss Jackson
Are you nasty?

Miss Jackson
Miss Jackson
Miss Jackson
Are you nasty?
Are you nasty?
I love her anyway 

Ohhhh
Where will you be waking up tomorrow morning?
Ohhhh
Out the back door
Goddamn
But I love her anyway

Way down 'til the fire finally dies out 
You've got 'em wrapped around your finger
Watch 'em fall down 
There's something beautiful and tragic in the fall out-
Let me say it one more time
(tragic in the fall out) 

He-eyy
Where will you be waking up tomorrow morning?
He-eyy
Out the back door, Goddamn
But I love her anyway
I love her anyway 
I love her anyway 
Out the back door but
I love her anyway

Miss Jackson
Miss Jackson
Miss Jackson
Are you nasty?

Miss Jackson
Miss Jackson
Miss Jackson
Are you nasty?

Miss Jackson
Miss Jackson
Miss Jackson
Are you nasty?
Are you nasty?
I love her anyway

Ohhhh
Where will you be waking up tomorrow morning?
Ohhhh
Out the back door
Goddamn
But I love her anyway

Climbing out back the door, didn't leave a mark
No one knows it's you Miss Jackson
Found another victim
But no one's ever gonna find Miss Jackson 

I love her anyway 

Miss Jackson
Miss Jackson
Miss Jackson
Are you nasty?

Miss Jackson
Miss Jackson
Miss Jackson
Are you nasty?

Miss Jackson
Miss Jackson
Miss Jackson
Are you nasty?
Are you nasty
I love her anyway 

Ohhhh
When will you be waking up tomorrow morning?
Ohhhh
Out the back door
Goddamn
But I love her anyway

Miss Jackson

Miss Jackson (feat. LOLO)

This poem was inspired by worrying about far away friends who live in big cities. I think all of us have those moments of concern for the ones who are dear to us. Much of the time it’s completely unwarranted and we forget how capable they are of taking care of themselves. I was struck by the realization that as unnerving as it can sometimes be to carry this apprehension it’s also a little comforting to know that we care so deeply about someone.

BeingThis

"Too Weird To Live, Too Rare To Die!" out now - download on iTunes smarturl.it/TooWeird

Upcoming tour dates: panicatthedisco.com/tour

Website: panicatthedisco.com
Facebook: facebook.com/panicatthedisco
Twitter: twitter.com/panicatthedisco
YouTube: youtube.com/panicatthedisco
Instagram: instagram.com/panicatthedisco

LYRICS
This is gospel for the fallen ones
Locked away in permanent slumber
Assembling their philosophies
From pieces of broken memories
(This is the beat of my heart)
Their gnashing teeth and criminal tongues
Conspire against the odds
But they haven't seen the best of us yet

If you love me, let me go
These words are knives and often leave scars
The fear of falling apart
Truth be told, I never was yours
The fear of falling apart

This is gospel for the vagabonds
Ne'er-do-wells and insufferable bastards
Confessing their apostasies
Led away by imperfect impostors
(This is the beat of my heart)
Don't try to sleep through the end of the world
And bury me alive
'Cause I won't give up without a fight

This Is Gospel

Strength Of An Ox

Go Lady

Just Want To See You

Sooner Or Later

I knew exactly what love looked like
in seventh grade.
Even though I hadn’t met love yet
if Love had wondered into my homeroom,
I would’ve recognized him at first glance.
Love wore a hemp necklace.
I would’ve recognized her at first glance.
Love wore a tight french braid.
Love played acoustic guitar,
and knew all my favorite Beatles songs.
Love wasn’t afraid to ride the bus with me.

And I knew,
I just must be searching the wrong classrooms;
just must be checking the wrong hallways.
She was there, I was sure of it.
If only I could find him.

But when Love finally showed up,
She had a bullcut.
He wore the same clothes every day for a week.
Love hated the bus.
Love didn’t know anything about the Beatles.

Instead,
Everytime I tried to kiss Love,
our teeth got in the way.
Love because the reason I lied to my parents.
I’m going to… Ben’s house
Love had terrible rhythm on the dance floor,
but made sure we never missed a slow song. 
Love waited by the phone,
because she knew if her father picked up
it would be, (heavy breathing)
“Hello, hello… I guess they hang up.”

And Love grew…
Stretched like a trampoline.
Love changed.
Love disappeared
slowly, like baby teeth
losing parts of me I thought I needed.
Love vanished like an amateur magician,
everyone could see the trapdoor but me.
Like a flat tire,
there were other places I had planned on going
but my plans didn’t matter.

Love stayed away for years.
And when Love finally reappeared,
I barely recognized him.
Love smelled different now,
had darker eyes,
a broader back.
Love came with freckles I didn’t recognize,
new birthmarks,
a softer voice.
Now there were new sleeping patterns,
new favorite books.
Love had songs that reminded him of someone else;
songs Love didn’t like to listen to
so did I.

But we found a park bench that fit us perfectly.
We found jokes that make us laugh.
And now Love makes me fresh homemade chocolate cookies.
But Love will probably finish most of them for a midnight snack.

Love looks great in lingerie but still likes to wear her retainer.
Love is a terrible driver but a great navigator.
Love knows where she’s going,
it just might take her two hours longer than she planned.

Love is messier now;
not as simple.
Love uses the word ‘boobs’ in front of my parents.
Love chews too loudly.
Love leaves the cap off the toothpaste.
Love uses smiley messages in her text messages
And turns out,
Love shits.

But Love also cries.
And Love will tell you, “You are beautiful.”
And mean it.
Over and over again,
“You are beautiful.”
When you first wake up,
“You are beautiful.”
When you’ve just been crying,
“You are beautiful.”
When you don’t want to hear it,
“You are beautiful.”
When you don’t believe it,
“You are beautiful.”
When nobody else will tell you,
“You are beautiful.”
Love still thinks,
“You are beautiful.”
But love is not perfect,
and will sometimes forget,
when you need to hear it most,
“You are beautiful.”
Do not forget this.

Love is not who you are expecting.
Love is not what you can predict.

Maybe Love is in New York City,
already asleep.
You are in California, Australia,
wide awake.
Maybe Love is always in the wrong timezone.

Maybe Love is not ready for you.
Maybe you are not ready for Love.
Maybe Love just isn’t the marrying type.
Maybe the next time you see Love is twenty years after the divorce.
Love looks older now but just as beautiful as you remembered.

Maybe Love is only there for a month.
Maybe Love is there for every firework,
every birthday party,
every hospital visit.

Maybe Love stays.
Maybe Love can’t.
Maybe Love shouldn’t.

Love arrives exactly when Love is supposed to.
And Love leaves exactly when Love must.

When Love arrives,
say, “Welcome, make yourself comfortable.”
If Love leaves,
ask her to leave the door open behind her,
turn off the music,
listen to the quiet,
whisper, “Thank you for stopping by.”

Sarah Kay   Phil Kaye When Love Arrives

The monsters of Shane's night terrors tremble in fear of Shane's grandfather until his powers fail. 

Shane Koyczan is an award winning Canadian Poet, Author and Performer. He is also a TED Talks speaker. Shane's influential, anti-bullying, To This Day Project video went viral in early 2013 and currently has over 10 million views and counting.

Original music by Alex Mandel performed by Alex Mandel and the Snap Players

Why Does This Man’s Grandfather Fight Monsters?  / Shane Koyczan, Snap Judgment LIVE!

The Friday Night Song

“If I should have a daughter…“Instead of “Mom”, she’s gonna call me “Point B.” Because that way, she knows that no matter what happens, at least she can always find her way to me. And I’m going to paint the solar system on the back of her hands so that she has to learn the entire universe before she can say “Oh, I know that like the back of my hand.”

She’s gonna learn that this life will hit you, hard, in the face, wait for you to get back up so it can kick you in the stomach. But getting the wind knocked out of you is the only way to remind your lungs how much they like the taste of air. There is hurt, here, that cannot be fixed by band-aids or poetry, so the first time she realizes that Wonder-woman isn’t coming, I’ll make sure she knows she doesn’t have to wear the cape all by herself. Because no matter how wide you stretch your fingers, your hands will always be too small to catch all the pain you want to heal. Believe me, I’ve tried.

And “Baby,” I’ll tell her “don’t keep your nose up in the air like that, I know that trick, you’re just smelling for smoke so you can follow the trail back to a burning house so you can find the boy who lost everything in the fire to see if you can save him. Or else, find the boy who lit the fire in the first place to see if you can change him.”

But I know that she will anyway, so instead I’ll always keep an extra supply of chocolate and rain boats nearby, ‘cause there is no heartbreak that chocolate can’t fix. Okay, there’s a few heartbreaks chocolate can’t fix. But that’s what the rain boots are for, because rain will wash away everything if you let it.

I want her to see the world through the underside of a glass bottom boat, to look through a magnifying glass at the galaxies that exist on the pin point of a human mind. Because that’s how my mom taught me. That there’ll be days like this, “There’ll be days like this my momma said” when you open your hands to catch and wind up with only blisters and bruises. When you step out of the phone booth and try to fly and the very people you wanna save are the ones standing on your cape. When your boots will fill with rain and you’ll be up to your knees in disappointment and those are the very days you have all the more reason to say “thank you,” ‘cause there is nothing more beautiful than the way the ocean refuses to stop kissing the shoreline no matter how many times it’s sent away.

You will put the “wind” in win some lose some, you will put the “star” in starting over and over, and no matter how many land mines erupt in a minute be sure your mind lands on the beauty of this funny place called life.

And yes, on a scale from one to over-trusting I am pretty damn naive but I want her to know that this world is made out of sugar. It can crumble so easily but don’t be afraid to stick your tongue out and taste it.

“Baby,” I’ll tell her “remember your mama is a worrier but your papa is a warrior and you are the girl with small hands and big eyes who never stops asking for more.”

Remember that good things come in threes and so do bad things and always apologize when you’ve done something wrong but don’t you ever apologize for the way your eyes refuse to stop shining.

Your voice is small but don’t ever stop singing and when they finally hand you heartbreak, slip hatred and war under your doorstep and hand you hand-outs on street corners of cynicism and defeat, you tell them that they really ought to meet your mother.” 
― Sarah Kay

Sarah Kay- If I Should Have A Daughter

Please buy the original track and support the artists. 

The Crickets Have Arthritis
By Shane Koyczan

it doesn’t matter why I was there, where the air is sterile and the sheets sting.
it doesn’t matter that I was hooked up to this thing that buzzed and beeped every time my heart leaped, like a man whose faith tells him:
gods hands are big enough to catch an airplane

or a world,

doesn’t matter that I was curled up like a fist protesting death,
or that every breath was either hard labor or hard time,
or that I’m either always too hot or too cold
it doesn’t matter because my hospital roommate wears star wars pajamas,
and he’s nine years old

His name is Louis

and I don’t have to ask what he’s got, the bald head with the skin and bones frame speaks volumes. The Gameboy and feather pillow booms like, they’re trying to make him feel at home ‘cuase he’s gonna be here a while

I manage a smile the first time I see him and it feels like the biggest lie I’ve ever told.
so I hold my breath
cuase I’m thinking any minute now he’s gonna call me on it
I hold my breath
cuase I’m scared of a fifty seven pound boy hooked to a machine, becuase he’s been watching me, and maybe I’ve got him pegged all wrong, like

maybe he’s bionic or some shit.
so I look away.

like I just made eye contact with a gang member who’s got a rap sheet the length of a lecture on dumb mistakes politicians have made. I look away like he’s gonna give me my life back he minute I’ve got something to trade, I damn near pull out my pack and say

Cigarette?

but my fear subsides in the moment I realize Louis is all about show and tell. he’s got everything from a shot gun shell to a crows foot and he can put them all in context like:

See, this is from a shooting range and

see, this is from a weird girl

I watch his hands curl around a cuff link and a tie tack and realize that every nick knack is a treasure and every treasure’s got a story and every time I think I can’t handle more he hits me with another story. says:

See, this is from my father. see, this is from my brother. see, this is from that weird girl. see this is from my mother. it took me two days to figure out that

that weird girl, is his sister.

took him about two hours today after she left for him to figure out he missed her.

they visit every day and stay well passed visiting hours. because for them that term doesn’t apply. but when they do leave Louis and I are left alone and he says the worst part about being sick is you get all the free ice cream you ask for. and he says the worst part about that is realizing that there’s

nothing more they can do for you. he says:

Ice Cream can’t make every thing ok.

and there’s no easy way of asking and I already know what he’s gonna say, but maybe he just needs to say it so I ask him any way. Are you scared? Louis doesn’t even lower his voice when he says

Fuck yeah.

I listen to a nine year old boy say the word Fuck, like he was a thirty year old man with a nose bleed being lowered into a shark tank, he’s got a right to it and if it takes this kid a curse word to help him get through it, I want to teach him to swear like the devil was sitting there taking notes with a pen and a pad but before I can forget that Louis is nine years old he says:

please don’t tell my dad.

he asks me if I believe in angels,

and before I realize I don’t have the heart to tell him, I tell him Not lately, and I just lay there waiting for him to hate me. but he doesn’t know how to, so he never does.

Louis loves like a man who lived in a time before god gave religion to men and left it to them to figure out what hate was.

He never greets me with silence. only smiles. and a patience I’ve never seen in someone who knows they’re dying. and I’m trying so hard not to remind him, I’ll be out of here in a couple of days, smoking cigarettes and taking my life for granted. and he’ll still be planted in this bed like a flower that refuses to grow, I’ve been with him for five days and all I really know is Louis loves to pull feathers out of his pillow, and watch them float to the ground, almost as if he was the philosopher inside of the scientist ready to say that its gravity that’s been getting us down. but the truth is

there’s not enough miracles to go around kid,

and there’s too many people petitioning god for the winning lotto ticket. and for every answered prayer there’s a cricket with arthritis, and the only reason we can’t find answers is the search party didn’t invite us, and Louis right now the crickets have arthritis

so there is no music.

no symphony of nature swelling to crescendos, as if we bent halo’s into melodies that could keep rhythm with the way our hearts beat.
so we must meet silence with the same level of noise that the parents of dying nine year old boys make when they take liberties in talking with heaven. we must shout until we shatter in our own vibrations then let our lives

echo, and grow
echo, and grow
echo, and grow

Grow distant.

grow distant enough to know that as far as our efforts go we don’t always get a reply. but I swear to whatever god I can find in the time I have left I’m gonna remember you kid. gonna tell your story as often as every story you told me, and every time I tell it I’ll say see,

there’s bravery in this world

there’s 6.5 billion people curled up like fists protesting death, but every breath we take has to be given back, a nine year old boy taught me that.

so hold your breath. the same way you’d hold a pen when writing thank you letters on your skin to every tree that gave you that breath to hold.
then let it go. as if you understand something about getting old and having to give back
let it go like a laugh attack in the middle of really good sex

the black eye will be worth it.

because what is your night worth without a story to tell, and why wield a word like worth if you’ve got nothing to sell. people drop pennies down a wishing well as if the cost of a desire is equal to that of a thought. but if you’ve got expectations expect others have bought your exact same dream for the price of the hard work, hang in, hold on mentality, like I accept any challenge so challenge me
like

I’ve brought a knife to this gun fight, but other night I mugged a mountain so bring that shit I’ve had practice.

Louis and I cracked this world wide open and found the prize inside because we never lied to ourselves, never told ourselves it would be easy or undemanding.
so we sing in our own vibration and dare angels to eavesdrop and stop midflight to pluck feathers from their wings and write demands on gods hands

take the time to catch you

so that even if god doesn’t, it wasn’t because we didn’t try.

I don’t often believe in angels, but on the day I left Louis pulled a feather from his pillow and said this is for you,

I half expected him to say

See, this is the first one I grew.


The Crickets Have Arthritis ( Shane Koyczan )

Buy the original content and help the Artists.

All I Want

[Intro:]
Takeoff- Guala!
Bieber - What's up Migos?
Quavo - What up JB, it's time to go to the club, time to pull those toys out man - let's do it

[Verse 1: Justin Bieber]
Hey where the party at? Let's go
Where the swag? Let's roll
Yea, everywhere I go, them girls follow
Na, na, na, na
Let everybody know that I'm here tonight
As soon as I walk in the door
(?)
If I didn't know I need you for sure

[Pre-Hook: Justin Bieber]
Tonight might be the night
You might mess around and fall in love
And I might be the guy
I don't want to make you fall in love with me
Girl, what's your name, I'm happy that you came
I'm the man in this, stick with me, I can't love
Everywhere around the world
I'll be looking for you


[Hook: Quavo]
Is it her looking for you, looking for you?
I'm not Paparazzi or a stalker
She right in front of me looking for you, looking for you
Not the feds or a cop

[Verse 2: Justin Bieber]
I got money in my pocket and I ain't afraid to spend it
It ain't a problem, baby girl when you're with it
Tell me what you wanna do, would you make a move now?
Girl you ain't gotta fight the feeling
(Look at her face)
Girl ain't gotta say anymore
(Say no more)
Need to know I ain't playing
(I ain't playing)
Baby what are we waiting for?

[Pre-Hook: Justin Bieber]
Tonight might be the night
You might mess around and fall in love
And I might be the guy
I don't want to make you fall in love with me
Girl, what's your name, I'm happy that you came
I'm the man in this, stick with me, I can't love
Everywhere around the world
I'll be looking for you

Justin Looking For You ( Justin Part Only )

Misery Business

Love poem medley - Rudy Francisco

Rudy Francisco- To the new boyfriend

Shakka Crown - alike Thomas Crown - a billionaire bored of his riches, steals a priceless music artifact from The London Wiltshire Museum. 

He doesn't sell them off though. 

He just did it for kicks. 

And now he wants to make new art, from classics? 

How?

Take Our Time

Pretty [Explicit]

Andrea Gibson - Andrew

Andrea Gibson - Swingset

I Can't Stop

Gleam, 
Where the street lamps are broken, Leaving 14 year old first time hookers unable to see what their getting into. Then shine for the 14 year old last time hookers and everything they went through. 
Shine in the dark places where shadows cast shadows against the backdrop of husbands who cannot stop hitting their wives. Where the children of brutalized mothers grow up blowing out birthday candles wishing their fathers would die. 

Spark, in the wombs where un-born babies are getting high cause their mothers wont even try to stay clean. Gleam, for the un-seen victims of bullies who live like magic lamps within are demons like genies waiting to grant wishes of violence when they are rubbed the wrong way. Shine in the dark places and shine like the day. Because love never had a child-hood, Cause hate grows up to soon. 

So shine, where the silver spoon tarnishes itself against charity. Where teeth sharpen themselfs against frailty. Where every family tree falls in a forest with nobody around to here and dear John letters are composed by those who never learned to read or write. And the only reason our hin-sight is 20/20 is because we've had to much practise looking over our shoulders. As if we could expect to find behind us anything but the mistakes we've made. This is where debts paid for servitude are being taxed, where the fates of other countries are being faxed through phone lines tapped by governments that send soldiers instead of relief. where every belief we believe in is questioned, by those who can believe what you believe IF your credit card clears. These are the dark places, Where we against all likely hood must shine just to make sure we're doing everything we can. That we're voting for every candidate who ran on a platform of maybe we're more then we've been told. Maybe 100 years is not to old to start thinking about what it is you want to do with your life. 

So flash, like the blade of the knife we hold to the throughts of those who would have us believe love isen't for everyone. Then shine so you know you've always been someone that the sun that shines for them shines just as bright for all that those we call friend lend strength to our back bone when standing alone is something they can never let us do because they pack their bags ready to travel with us past everything we go through. Preparing to shine in the dark places. To tie together the shoe laces of boogiemen then shine under the beds and in the closets for the damage deposits that are depleated by the time those monsters move out we owe them nothing. 

Because bed time stories have never been about tragity. They've been about leaving bread crumb trails so we can find our way back from catastrophe. We were never meant to live like millionairs going broke having spent worthless fortunes on living in uncertanty. 

So we must shine for all the times others will not. Like fireflies caught playing against the backdrop of midnight Because despite everything you've been told you can be bold beyond what others believe you to be. So see in yourself what you wish others to see. Be brave in a way that others may never know, Live like the under-tow that catches and keeps stars spread across the night. 

Shine in the dark places. Lend the world your light.

  

Shine (Shorter Version for Modern) by Shane Koyczan

Shane Koyczan and Hannah Epperson - Remember How We Forgot

Shane Koyczan and the Short Story Long - To This Day

I grew up very angry, and had difficulty understanding where those feelings came from. 

Some instances were easier to decipher than others; parental abandonment factored into my life heavily, and gave the people around me an easy button to push. 

Other moments were subtler, and took a tremendous amount of searching to find the root cause. 

The piece is called How I Learned To Smile and it really is about the process of understanding where my anger  came from.

The Crickets Have Arthritis ( Shane Koyczan )

Gohers Way