The News anchor says the neo humans
Are falling like fucking flies in a chlorine gas attack. Focusing crystals infused with radioactive meth hit the street.
There is a periwinkle girl picking scabs at the groundswell collective. The Mayan apocalypse came and went. Bukowski's boredom manifested in the streets.
Till the last beautiful thing I saw was amputee porn, pink nubs erasing phantom genders.
Till I couldn't avoid the ultra-violent hilarity of bumper cars.
Till I watched gutter suicides on Prime Time.
Till I giggled at Bela Lugosi's specter of morphine.
Till I resin hit heroin from a human spine.
Till I became a ghost haunting dive bars for change.
Till I smiled at razor commercials.
Till I tried to unionize ants.
Till my stories ended with vampires eating Ice cream.
Till I watched machinations of Death Culture starve.
Till I was a human too.
The scuttled Sector 9's were re-vamped, kids bombed the boulevards not looking for lanterns, wind passing
Like weed eaters over grass.
Quetzalcoatl came and went subverted entertainment and threw some research chems in for kicks because
Every anarchist loves to bowl down mummified alleys knocking pins into
Abysmal shadows.
Poet Douglas Kearney and composer/producer/drummer Val Jeanty link up for a a compelling LP that feels like the written word come to life. Bandcamp New & Notable Mar 30, 2021
In a lane all his own, aint about me lays moody spoken word over rippling soundscapes on songs that feel cinematic in scope. Bandcamp New & Notable Nov 23, 2020