A little music box tune to fall asleep & dream about kaijus~

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Pacific Rim Music Box - cover

To me,
The rhythm of the night
Is the sound of sex-frenzied beating hearts.
Because I’m a teenager,
Mummy’s very own little monster,
Despairing over human race’s hope
For millennial centuries…

I heard the words of the alcoholic Messiah,
The one who breathes wisdom
In the schizophrenic world of photoshopped publicities,
And he told me that Salvation
Is one’s desire to repaint white
All sides of the Rubik’s cube.

Me who wanted to reach the sky,
Me definable fool abnormally short-sighted mess ignorant,
Fell into engulfing abyss
And breathed in the nectar
Now filling the cracks of my numb voidless soul.

Me who wanted to reach the sky,
Fell and hit the bottom of the lake,
Drinking the reflection of the sun I saw there,
And kissed the mermaids
Until the sea bled red my life away.

And now I scream
In post-imaginary joy.
I scream
In pain.
I scream
In a lie-drunk state of undisputable capitalist anarchy.
I scream
In horror and disgust and fake disco rhythms,
Because what is life
If not a joke
With no punchline except for the fist connecting with your jaw?

Bury me
Like I do every night,
So that my mornings may be filled
With the will
To live.

Bury me
And may the bitter smell
Of newly-made coins bless your soul.

Sing me to sleep and
Sing me to death,
Be my angel and
Be my requiem.
The lights of the London tube
Cannot guide my way forever,
And I will have to dance in the battlefield
If I want my poppy to bloom.

So be it.

I am drunk on expensive beer
That I do not even like,
This is the climax of my sixteen years,
A private punk song
Cover of the Hallelujah;

This is the climax of a generation,
Drunk on unaffordable idealism
And student loans;

This
Is a girl vomiting in a bathroom because her friends do not care,
But she will dance again Saturday night,
Because her room is dark and lonely
And her parents care even less.

So take my words
And eat my heart
Raw as the crude thoughts
Stimulating my existence,
And let the eye of the rising sun
Burn your hair so that it may grow again
Blue.

Psychedelic Prayer

In this episode we discuss what makes the universe of Pacific Rim so appealing to fanwork creators and ways in which people have and are continuing to explore and expand on it.

Episode 01: Expanding The Universe

Joni Sheila's debut album "Change".

Support Joni Sheila on www.patreon.com/jonisheila

Change

t r a u m

I can’t sleep in someone else’s bed.

I eat onions every day.

I have OCD and I can’t stand when people touch things.

Sometimes I can’t stand when people touch me.

I don’t own an umbrella because I always abandon the things that protect me.

I tell my secrets onstage.

Sometimes I tell other people’s secrets in an effort to feel more like myself.

I have OCD and I can’t stand when people move stuff.

Sometimes I can’t stand when people move me.

I didn’t know my grandfather but I live with his skeletons in my closet.

I’m afraid of growing soft like my mother in the arms of a lying man—her heart is a rotted peach.

I’m afraid of growing spikes from my wounds like my father—his heart is a pinecone.

My parents love too much.

They love so much they had to put 75 miles between them and live in separate houses.

Men say I’m too serious except when I’m drunk in a bar and laughing and wearing a dress he likes.

Sometimes when that happens I feel cold like predator and I wonder would he like serious better if he knew he was prey.

My grandfather was a predator and I inherited his affinity for perfectly folded towels, his disease of exact.

Reasons why I can’t have a boyfriend: My bloodline is poison and the drama is contagious. I’m afraid of contaminating someone healthy.

I’m afraid of meeting someone who has everything I want and realizing he’s the version of myself I’ll never be.

I only date other damaged people with the hope they won’t know any better.

Sometimes I think being with someone would calm my mind but I don’t want to treat a man like Prozac.
It’s taken so long to be able to sit peaceful in a room by myself I don’t want to invite anyone else in.

I’m an armadillo, sheathed in leathery armor,
Alone in the desert doding trucks on their way to somewhere
Better.


————————————–

Lydia Armstrong called us from Richmond, VA. 

voicemailpoems.org // 1-910-703-POEM

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"Reasons Why I Can't Have A Boyfriend" by Lydia Armstrong

From Juno, for Anon

Power

Traditional arranged by Johnny Rooke. Everything played, programmed or found by Johnny Rooke and the Emperors of the Realm of Taste. Produced by Johnny Rooke. Recorded in Nivelles, August 2016; mixed December 2016. Special thanks to Charlie and Jackie for equipment loan.

The Other Side Of The Weather

I'm a big fan of certain TV shows like Supernatural and Sherlock and sometimes get overwhelmed by too many feels... The results? Some songs and parodies!
Please, be aware that English is not my first language. If you read/hear mistakes or if I have a strange accent on some words, feel free to tell me!

Psychedelic Prayer

Meeni

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