Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

Rolling big bass lumbering,
the big dog woofer thundering,
skull-pounding dub dread rumbling.
Reverb careens from the valley of doom.
Yea verily, psalms of the heavy rain forth
from mile-high walnut towers, consumed,
cathartic cataclysms of holy rolling boom,
rattle the room, can’t place myself in space,
holy reformations on the face of the deep.
and the word was dub, the word was with dub,
the monster massive slowed an octave low,
rhythm bomb, the black edge of sunshine,
the gospel of dread, gospel of dread,
rootsman lost on the big beat rock,
the children lost in the desert.
Amen.

"rootsman lost on the big beat rock,"
Man, I can picture that.
This is one of those most satisfying reads....
oooo wheee!
Nice work.
H

havin' fun with the dubbed-out rasta rolling boom,
even gettin' a little biblical... "face of the deep?"
haha.

thanks hes..

enjoyed this one, Mark. i felt some isolation mixed with some dearfening bass riffs of your dub cutz. you've often mentioned how much dub brought out of you out in the silent mysteries of the Nevada outback, where nary a word is heard, but the dub, man... the dub.. churning up the soul.

cool!

thanks Cec. Plus the title almost sounds like some kinda thunderjam in itself.

I really need to get my big 'ol vintage speakers re-drivered however. They were proud soldiers for many years, but they's pretty much spent...

home speakers or auto speakers?

there's so much new out there now i couldn't begin to know what's good versus what's fantastic... at my age it'd all sound damn fine.

home speakers-- almost 4 feet tall, a couple of 12's (one "passive"), a 5" mid and dome tweeter. The mids and tweets are ok, but woofers are toast. It's odd when you go to the various audio websites-- people are funny about their speakers (sound perception is so subjective). Some folks swear by the older stuff from 25+ years ago. It also depends on what you listen to, and how you listen. I like the classic old big box design, though I'm sure it's not the highest "fidelity" in sound reproduction...

I like the way the poem looks on the page
the symmetry

I got no words to say about the actual poem except


Happy somebody has found the words to say it.


thank you for the poetry
"listen to the music"

Ever read this book?
http://www.fantasticfiction.co.uk/d/jim ... e-away.htm
If not, give it a try. It'll change your life. Did mine.

Peace,
Barry

Barry-- sounds like a good read. I think I'll look for that one.

I rewrote this one, worked it into some ongoing prose...

In the beginning was rock and vibrations of rock, time signature riddles, middle of infinitude converted, inverted, a steady bedrock rumbling, rolling big bass lumbering, the big dog woofer grumbling, skull-pounding dread. Reverb careens from chasms. Yea verily, psalms of the heavy rain forth from walnut towers consumed, cathartic cataclysms of holy rolling boom, rattle the room, can’t place myself in space, holy reformations on the face of the deep. The word was dub, and the word was with dub, the monster massive slowed an octave low, black edge of sunshine, the rootsman on a big beat rock, children lost in the desert.

Rattle in celestial canyons, over walls, across plains, paint constellations on the black. Little sound is found in the black except boom. How much sound could a supernova muster? I need to hear it with my eyes. It comes quietly at first, unimaginable galaxies inside flickering pins in the night sheen firmament, rhythm of flung orbits, scattered heaven, enormity of the smallest secret, the force, the source, maker of nebulae where prophets wail, earthquakes and shaking if you will, angels and devils, soaring temples, mountains eroding flat, grain by grain in tricks of rain.

Which came first, action or reaction? Bang, or implosion? Blowout or rubber band stars? The universe blew out it seems, hurtled out at terrible speed, expands into something like nothing or something like that, and black space blackens. Clutch onto something. And critical density is five hydrogen atoms per meter. Anything less and it runs to ether, or vice versa, the yo-yo sky, your stars and deserts, useless things, roads to the end of ice caps. Which came first, water or the sea? Matter, or space? Dark matter or light? Warrior or the fight? We pictured we at the center of things; indeed we are, the center of careening axes as it were.

two nice reads, mark