A compilation of raps and beats from 11/22-03/23

Languish Arts instrumental

A rallying call from the Highland feminine. 

Written for UNESCO RILA Spring Show 23  online event  Who Are We Now?

Fathers Separateness

M Palowski Moore, Silver Lion Poet reads "It's A Long Way" a poem by William Stanley Braithwaite

It's A Long Way a poem by William Stanley Braithwaite

Hazır mısın Züleyha ?

Hazır Mısın Züleyha ?

Paul Tran is the author of the debut poetry collection, All the Flowers Kneeling, published by Penguin. Their work appears in The New York Times, The New Yorker, Best American Poetry, and elsewhere. They earned their BA in History from Brown University and MFA in Poetry from Washington University in St. Louis. Winner of the Discovery/Boston Review Poetry Prize, as well as fellowships from the Poetry Foundation, Stanford University, and the National Endowment for the Arts, Paul is an Assistant Profess of English and Asian American Studies at the University of Wisconsin-Madison.

iampaultran.com

The 2024 Visiting Writers Program is generously supported by The Rona Jaffe Foundation.

Visiting Writer Reading- Paul Tran 04/10/24

Unknown album (5/8/2024 1:16:31 PM)

verbal savage

L'Être à toi

Career Criminal

What truly sets Pessoa apart is his creation and genuine belief in heteronyms: fully imagined literary identities complete with biographies, styles, and philosophies. Exploring his personas and poetry

Fernando Pessoa, The Poet of Lisbon - The Thinking Room

The winter was as cold as the embedded despair that  

                   danced with the promise of death, 

The light of the morning there was a sick craving felt, 

                A pack of vile heaven I was saving still,

 When I started dripping sweat with heavy breathing,                      

   The sickness disgusted me,     

                  To the point of panicking, 

  Heart beating out of my chest ,                         

      Dope Sick insanity,

 I grabbed my silent screams and swallowed them in regret, 

  I just want this to end,                          

     Heroin's is the gun I defended,

 The weapon I sing sweet lullabies to every time play victim,    

                              Daring to take my life away, 

                      Communication came in the night, 

                              A message from a relative,        

                       Death had come to my father,        

                             Suicide was the cause                    

                             Sick all day,                                 

    I can't stand the pain,                     

    Dripping nose like the vomit leeks,

 From the intoxication of a purge with the on set of the  rush of a opiate,

 Cold to the bone shaking like a jackals laughing when they're hunting, 

Sweat leaking out of my skin like snake oil salesmen   corrupt and sale, 

Glazed like the morning dew mist in the flames of hell,

 Flowing out like the exhale of carbon dioxide filth,                  

     This suicide, the cause and effect,                

The taste of no regrets was a disgusting reality,          

      Coming to a tragedy in the throws of a loss,      

      When addiction with suffering played the role ,

 To sing a sonnet, 

 A symphony from the demons below,  

The church of misery holds the ceremony of lost souls,                                          

To finally let go,  

        The death of one will create another dead soul ,

            The powder of the sedative,

 The dirt of a flower, 

       With the god of sleep and the mouth of the devils breath to infuse gave it,                          

It's power of my final hour, 

The sands of time the intoxicant incased with  the  liquid of life, 

Boiling from the flames beneath a spoon in the dead of night,

  Drawing up it's contents, 

The elixir of pleasure of death together cry's, 

Wrapping rope and knots to close off the flow of life's gift,

I poured all I could into the tool,  

 For a poison that would predict it's ending , 

Pressure added to the pulse of life ,

 Like a stealth weapon ,

I let the hymn of god off my lips roll out, 

 Euphoria to nothingness in a life's second,
 The world went black as my life left with the barrel still inside it's target limb, 
The void,
 There was peace, 
  Then agony and echoing, 
As life was given back to me, 
When you survived the tragedy,   
Saved by oxygen,

Saved By Oxygen (Poetry)

In the weeping morning light, 

The silence rings the gates open to me ready to fight, 

Or flight I might, 

 Creeping it's knife deep within my feet ,

Blood drips free,

As depression grabs hold,

Insomnia lost paths trapped in space a vibrating soul,

Wrapped my fingers around the fire that burns alone,

 Inside my surrender of fate I resurrect just to die , 

Expressionless face in the mirror  where hateful eyes find,

Endless echoing words hitting the walls of  a closed gate of the mind,

Traveling in hyper space forever below zero,

 Looking for what I can not find,

 A hero a source divine ,

Raptured in agony quite but screaming with age,

Forgetting what was given was my name to be made,

Disarray the universe breaks reality,

 To show the silver membrane ,

Hidden by visions of chastity ,

The walls of the core,

 The heart beating questions,

 Life what are we here for,

 Horror insects flush shadows moving,

 The breath within veins,

Holy whore and beauty bestowed,

Embrace the clear glass floor,

As demons move among the false glance of wicked eyes,

 God's light shining between halls,

Aliens birth by fallen stars,

 To pause teeth sharpened with steel knives,

As waves from the abyss births from the womb a mortal coil,

Screams that never die are mute to this world, 

When outer gods indulge in the spoils of war,

Humanity braces for sorrow,

Stars lit midnight sky's when fragility blooms discord below,

Tunnels opened mouth worm holes consume the glossy wet souls of change,

Endless echoing words of power take flight,

Monsters with fingers like shadows reach to the essence of personal might,

Enter into the sparkling void we all call home,

Damaged flesh and slits of rage gusting hurricanes  heighten the score of divine life,

Cursed by The children aged like endless time,

We are forever lost out of control,

Lost star seeds that without mouths can not speak,

Telepathy golden electronic halo,  

A universe that unfolds,

 To the unconsciousness,

 burrows open to infuse thoughts to matter ascension place beyond heaven gate ,

 In multiverses of passion surrounded by thieves,

Suffering emotional recoil a creed blessed to honor the creation of hope and believe, 

Decay the mental blocks which must be rearranged ,

The hanging scapegoat the sinful and ugly pride must be degraded,

When the inside gets rejected  by societies religious laws ,

That possesses all mankind's infernal flaws and kings

 Of the idiotic consuming of indulgence and control,     

In endless time the echoing transcended ripping through space and time,

 Frequency opening the center of mind the god head takes only the embrace of the desire

By no name,  

Past all fate of the instincts of human sight ,

No words for good bye when forever to be the guides,

 Of the evolution of human kind emotions that never grow old,

Open through access with gate ways unlocked ,

By guides who the children controlled by pure emotional empathy,

Fly,

 The fictional threats of others dissolved unlike any species to behold ,

No a symphony of notes play like the vocals of light play awakening the soul,

 When accessing other planes of worlds unknown,

 To most might frighten the mass brain washed sheep that mock the strange,

It's the voice of light streaming across into black holes the full moon in the night,   

Collective humble reliver of physical pain traded from to emotional suffering 

Gaining wisdom passed walking life,

Opened to uncharted shores,

Beautiful diamonds dance in opened clairvoyant eyes store,

The information that is hidden from ancient DNA,

It calls from ghosts bloomed by unhuman evolution within blood cells quake,

When the world falls doomed to the false promises give by cave men,

 Between this life engorged with horded sweets,

The vessels must purge to become the meek,

To reclaim the promise of earths transcendence through galaxy's beyond space and time.    



 

     

   





Dissociative Heart #1

Why can't I be happy,

Diagnosed Borderline at 15   

Now 38,

Molested youth,

Sexual used like toy ,

Discarded creating wounds,

at 19 self destruction,

Now I'm burnt out,

just a old religion forgotten 

Like I always knew I was,

No matter how much I cry,

I never find release,

Will I ever be ok,

My emotions are like a gun shot to the souls,

Force feeding my glass covered in motor oil,

But never experiencing death ,

Emotionally injecting me with bleach, 

Just to have convolution,

My tears are dry,

Expressionless,

Drugs only go so far to cover the damage,

That no one would protect me,

I drink myself to sleep or until I can't see,

Trying to die,

But knowing I will aways awake the next day,

I started cutting my wrists 

But now I over indulge and write,

Numbing my soul from others and the world

No one wants to know me anyway 

But I can't accept I'll never be ok,

I watch my world burn,

While I drink wine in silence, 

Trap borderline and confused,

Out of control but I look normal,

I can't relate,

My emotions are to strong,

I'm so numb to everything but I am a fire storm in the mind,

Distorted intrusive thought are like,

Being stabbed millions of times,

Feeling every infection for a life time in seconds,

Downloaded a saved

During the day and night,

Knowing know one feels the same,

Or can,

Never meeting anyone because I don't know how,

Isolated learning all I can,

I only got one life not like I'm coming back,

But I try to kill everything everyday with no questions or care for anyone,

Worshiping death but god makes me unable to die when I want,

Forcing me to suffer until my life is over and done,




Borderline

Evolution From Dancing With Death Vrs 3

Alters States Junkie Hell Abuse Slavery Court

produced by me with  Epidemic Sound samples 

Decisions

M. Palowski Moore is a poet, writer and storyteller.  He has five volumes of poetry, including the Lambda Award nominee BURNING BLUE. His compositions reflect diverse themes and interpretations of prejudice, racism, socioeconomic inequality, homophobia and systemic oppression. He is the recipient of numerous accolades, including a Phi Beta Kappa Artistic Creation award for his collection of poems SILVER LION, awarded a Writer’s Digest Certificate of Merit for the collection of poems KALEIDOSCOPE and a Sammy Davis,Jr./ Zora Neale Hurston Award for Arts and Humanities.  He is a contributing poet to the Civil Rights Memorial Center (SPLC) community poem A CIVIL COMMUNITY, a new exhibit that will be featured inside the final gallery of The Civil Rights Memorial Center.  In 1984, he was served as a torchbearer in the 1984 Olympic Torch Relay.

Mutant French based collective. Deploying meetings of different Universes. Intercrossings of experimental practices of creations. Poetry and Electronic OR accoustic musics. 
With love. For intensities. Weavingers. Dancing here 
  - also - 
under the Apocalypse.

Tamera Lanay (she/they) is a biracial Black literary artist, resistance writer, and poet from Southern California.

Its time for me to come out of hiding 

INSTA - @darkskinnprincess101

Echo's N MelaNKholyiA : A Sonic Odyssey of Fragmented Souls
In the shadowed corners of  Indiana, Echo's N MelaNKholyiA emerges as a groundbreaking experimental music project, a testament to the transformative power of art in the face of inner chaos. Founded in 2025 by the visionary artist Nexus Khimera—known also as Void, Echos, Mothyii, Alice, Helix, 5, Nexus Etheric ,Odium, Raven, and Death Moth this endeavor is an AI-assisted alchemical fusion of raw emotion and sonic innovation. At 38 years old, Khimera channels a lifetime of introspection, beginning from therapeutic explorations at age 15, into a tapestry of sound that defies categorization. The project's name, with its deliberate misspelling, evokes distorted echoes of melancholy—fragments of pain rebounding through an eternal void, mirroring the fragmented realities Khimera weaves into every composition.
Khimera serves as the sole architect of Echo's N MelanKholyia, handling vocals, lyrics, production, and visual aesthetics with a chameleon-like versatility. Drawing from a deeply personal narrative of psychological navigation, the music acts as a manifesto for survival, blending co-conscious identity shifts and emotional rebirth. The band's conceptual "members"—envisioned as alters in a dissociative system—include Helix as the resilient core, Alice as the protective guardian embodying transgender identity and safety, Phuric, and Odium as the unflinching confrontor of hate and vacuum, Five as the frozen residue of past emptiness, and Suicide Gene as the unnamed pull toward nothingness, symbolizing unyielding survival code. These personas "speak" through layered vocals, reversed whispers, and glitchy confessions, creating a dialogue that invites listeners to confront their own shadows without judgment.
Musically, Echo's N MelanKholyia is a hypnotic storm of genres: traumacore's dissonant catharsis meets industrial gothcore's mechanical fury, nu metal's rap-growl aggression, post-darkwave's ethereal haze, glitchcore's chaotic distortions, and voidcore's abyssal emptiness. The result is an immersive, addictive soundscape—binaural beats pulsing at 40Hz and 174Hz to tie in seduction and euphoria, 3D audio for psychotic despair, and unpolished production that bleeds raw intensity. Themes delve into mental health's labyrinth: dissociation's void, addiction's grip, damaging relationships' scars, and the triumph of self-reclamation. Khimera's artistry extends beyond audio to visual realms, with album artwork featuring charcoal sketches, gothic horror elements, and luciferian symbolism, all crafted to evoke a "junkie holocaust death march" of creepy, apocalyptic introspection.
Since its inception, Echo's N MelanKholyia has released a series of chapters that push artistic boundaries, available on platforms like Spotify, Amazon Music, SoundCloud, Apple Music, Tidal, Qobuz, and TikTok. The project's YouTube channel serves as a portal for official music videos, behind-the-scenes glimpses, and community engagement, fostering a space where fans can explore their own narratives through Khimera's lens. With collaborations leveraging AI for production and thematic depth, the band stands as a beacon for the disenchanted, proving that art can heal, empower, and transcend.
Subscribe to Echo's N MelanKholyia on YouTube for a journey into the melanKholyia—where echoes of the past forge omegas of the future. For inquiries or collaborations, connect via Facebook or X (@Mothyii13). All rights reserved © 2025 Echo's N MelanKholyia.

1/2 of Roots and Love

https://soundcloud.com/roots-love
https://soundcloud.com/maru-alehodimong

Founded by artists in 1984, the Vermont Studio Center is an international artists' and writers' residency program in the United States, hosting artists and writers each month from across the country and around the world.

VSC provides studio residencies on an historic 30-building campus along the Gihon River in Johnson, Vermont, a village in the heart of the northern Green Mountains.

New tracks tagged #Poerty