insomnia.werks

I created a celestial rock EP/mixtape.

I first got the idea months ago. Insomnia runs in my family & i was blessed enough to get it as well.

I spend many, many nights wide awake. With far more energy than is entirely necessary for a time when the rest of the world is asleep. Instead of wasting time until I was tired enough to eventually fall asleep, I decided to do something constructive with that time.

Introducing insomnia.werks.

Every single sound you hear on these songs were performed & produced by Me.

I hope you enjoy.

1. VY

2. Narcissis

3. Josephine: The Blue Allen

4. Purrty

5. Saturn Salutation

A Disturbance In The Force

The last drop of The Witch’s Brew passes between the lips

it takes control of the hips & makes the body dip on an unworthy stick

if only there was a way to forget

Wait a minute. Something’s wrong.

I’ve already taken the last sip.

The cauldron is empty.

now what?

I’ve got a bad, bad feeling…that this has happened before.

I put the key in the door but it was already unlocked from the disturbance from the time b4.

Therefore

I go to The Witch to get another batch.

She groans in a gravely hum

“Surely you haven’t finished the last order already? What could you possibly need it for? You’ve only just hatched.”

I walked away without a reply. No sense in applying a layer of logic on top of the illogical. It’s like spraying a bottle of pungent perfume over body odor.

It’d only highlight what was meant to be erased.

what now?

Posting a blog post, I suppose.

well. I may as well go back over yonder.

bc I know if the only thing The Witch will loan me right now is an itch

I know good & well

someone else (or something)

will give me what I need.

A Reading: Declaration of The Hill Dwellers

source post: Declaration Of The Hill Dwellers

You dare look me in the eye & say
the aged intensity of punk rock doesn’t smolder in my soul
That I don’t carry the torch of my fallen punk ancestors
Laid to rest by the 9 to 5
Spikes combed forward, ‘hawks brushed to the far left
lookin’ no good, no bueño
flown off to nowhere special.
Memories fade. Scribblings remain.

How Dare
You spit in my eye
as I walk down the aisle to claim the prize
The most damned prize so rightfully mine
of everlasting life & peace of mind
No price is right when the price hanging over my head, es
no good no bueño
Measured in wealth with no real value,
Chop it up thrice & serve it chilled sided with grilled
chopped heads of men & mice

How Dare
You poke me in the eye with sharp edges
from a bill you figured your generation would
have paid in full by now
Shoot daggers in my back, my shoulders buckle
under the weight of the price on my head
But behold this truth!
That the price is not mine! The price is not right!
It’s No Good, No Bueño!

That’s why I
Dare to fly northward &
onward & on & on
Gone that way, pulling the reverse switch
past 1992, past time
past the time of the No Good
Of whatever remains past the No Bueño
past the punk
rocking out with no one special

Memories fade. Scribblings remain.