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

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Purrty

 

Let’s call this the unofficial theme song for ‘A Jaded Psychodelicide’

Purrty by Vyolet Michaels

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.

Swinging Ditty from a Misunderstood

[Author’s note: best if song is played when shown]


an Irish’d-coffee to warm the belly on an overcast morning. no plans for the day. a kind of day where casual walks takes me to wherever my feet decide, without a care in the world. While absentmindedly staring at my phone, a peculiar sound caught my ear.

[snap    snap    snap    snap    snap]

there he was. standing under a small pine tree on top of a hill.

a teen boy in skinny jeans and a tshirt 3 sizes too big, singing out in a booming baritone with a growling edge, snapping fingers keeping a steady groove…

taking another sip, I listened to what he had to say:

I’m Mr. Big Mouth
At least, that’s what the legend states
Oh, Mr. Big Mouth
Nothin’ ever ever goes my way

As far back as third grade
teachers always would say
“Boy, ya ain’t nothin’ but trouble,
keep runnin’ ya mouth ya gonna get a muzzle!”

Not stopping to think maybe, just maybe
I was just a wee bit afraid

Not stopping to question, “Hey
maybe this kid knows a lil something about just how fucked up life is!
maybe we should [perhaps] do more than grill him [oh gosh maybe!]
about why he didn’t bother [who even cares?]
to finish his pop quiz!”

But noooooo, they called me Big Mouth
too smart for my own good
and the legend grew
throughout my childhood

I’m Mr. Big Mouth
just tryna make my way
Oh, Mr. Big Mouth
clashin’ with the birds of prey…..

i couldn’t help but notice that behind him was a high school in session & it was 10:30am on a weekday.
i walked over to him, so transfixed, i didn’t even question where the horns were coming from.

a general life rule of mine: if a street musician makes you stop and listen for a moment, you owe them a dollar.
i gave him $100.

THank y-you SO M-m-much,” his voice squeaked out, a puberty-wrecked contrast to the rumbling resonance of his song. He stuffed the bills in a pocket of a tattered bookbag that lay by his feet, overflowing with crumpled school papers. He flashed me a bright blended smile that revealed naivety with an undercoat of Sly.

i tipped my coffee to him with a grin and continued on my way. i heard a rhythmic snapping begin again as he faded away with distance.

I’m Mr. Big Mouth…





instrumental song credit: All Bets Are Off [Cuphead Soundtrack]

Love Seed

There are days where I don’t particularly feel anything
More days than I care to even fathom
Days where any sensation seems to pass over me with no bearing
As if I were merely a phantom

Drifting along in space without a suit, no oxygen to breathe
You’d think that would be cause for alarm
Perhaps it would
If it weren’t one of those days

More days than I care to fathom
Makes me wonder if Time is actually passing at all
Is it like smoke?
Does the inside of Pandora’s box simply not care
or is the punchline missing from this big cosmic joke?

Still…

These days are not everyday
at least I’ll tell myself that while I continue to be
& squeeze my eyes until they’re ready to bleed

letting the tears water my Love Seed