This is a selection from my new book, Cool Calm Collected
The Beat
poem is a collaboration with doreen peri
as performed by Lrod
Selection From New Book
- Lightning Rod
- Posts: 5211
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- Location: between my ears
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Selection From New Book
Last edited by Lightning Rod on August 9th, 2007, 8:15 am, edited 1 time in total.
- Doreen Peri
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- Location: Virginia
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>>>>> BEAT<<<<<
our version.. my voice.. long time ago.. sure miss it... beat beat beat
btw, I included this in my Perimeters CD....
our version.. my voice.. long time ago.. sure miss it... beat beat beat
btw, I included this in my Perimeters CD....
Last edited by Doreen Peri on August 9th, 2007, 9:33 am, edited 3 times in total.
- Doreen Peri
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- Location: Virginia
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Here are the lyrics
------------------------
beat is a suicide fertilizer bomber on the road to nowhere
ridin' the Ryder to surf on a mainline baptism ruptured
mud sculptures that last until the next rain. Secret stoic
compassion bestowed with indifference radical give a shit
tears stream for the suffering but are dried by the road. Beat
is bleaker than Bleeker Street.
beat is mud drug into treads of boot heels unable to feel
their way through rude unawakenings, trod down into
matted soiled hearts, the part of an epiphany never achieved,
mouths miming please please let me up, no ears to hear, beat
the drum to the paranoid aorta, each short rhythm, an echo
beneath stretched animal skin on top of an empty container;
faint stained burgundy blood spilled on burnt carpets beneath
pierced arms; beat holds the charm of standing completely
naked in the street in front of a head on collision
too many miles per hour faster than an airbag
could save. rant and holler if you want.
beat's got grave conclusions.
beat is destiny abandoned, ravished, captured, pinned
to the matte like a butterfly, wings still drubbing lanquid
as a crippled heart limping to nirvana on a cup of joe and a cigarette,
the bop solitude of a whiskey glass with no restrictions on your gut feelings
rampant tangents of the twisting road, the footprints to oblivion
and the butterfly wings beat soft like brushes on a death snare. The beat is
there; the beat is there.
beat is like being there, beat is like where you are when you're
so far away from everything you ever knew and closer to everything
and everybody who knew you before then and then the beat is
everywhere you ever wanted to be while songs of enrapture and snare
tantalize the bare minimum maximum stares, traveling the road,
traveling the road, footprints to twisted
butterfly wings,
sings and sounds
of caws from crows,
toes too long
for the shoe, blisters formed
where forlorn insteps tried to support
the walk, each matting down, a step toward
beating down the mud. beating down
the mud. beating
down
the
mud.
the beat is here.
the beat is
here.
------------------------
beat is a suicide fertilizer bomber on the road to nowhere
ridin' the Ryder to surf on a mainline baptism ruptured
mud sculptures that last until the next rain. Secret stoic
compassion bestowed with indifference radical give a shit
tears stream for the suffering but are dried by the road. Beat
is bleaker than Bleeker Street.
beat is mud drug into treads of boot heels unable to feel
their way through rude unawakenings, trod down into
matted soiled hearts, the part of an epiphany never achieved,
mouths miming please please let me up, no ears to hear, beat
the drum to the paranoid aorta, each short rhythm, an echo
beneath stretched animal skin on top of an empty container;
faint stained burgundy blood spilled on burnt carpets beneath
pierced arms; beat holds the charm of standing completely
naked in the street in front of a head on collision
too many miles per hour faster than an airbag
could save. rant and holler if you want.
beat's got grave conclusions.
beat is destiny abandoned, ravished, captured, pinned
to the matte like a butterfly, wings still drubbing lanquid
as a crippled heart limping to nirvana on a cup of joe and a cigarette,
the bop solitude of a whiskey glass with no restrictions on your gut feelings
rampant tangents of the twisting road, the footprints to oblivion
and the butterfly wings beat soft like brushes on a death snare. The beat is
there; the beat is there.
beat is like being there, beat is like where you are when you're
so far away from everything you ever knew and closer to everything
and everybody who knew you before then and then the beat is
everywhere you ever wanted to be while songs of enrapture and snare
tantalize the bare minimum maximum stares, traveling the road,
traveling the road, footprints to twisted
butterfly wings,
sings and sounds
of caws from crows,
toes too long
for the shoe, blisters formed
where forlorn insteps tried to support
the walk, each matting down, a step toward
beating down the mud. beating down
the mud. beating
down
the
mud.
the beat is here.
the beat is
here.
Last edited by Doreen Peri on August 9th, 2007, 9:34 am, edited 2 times in total.
- stilltrucking
- Posts: 20647
- Joined: October 24th, 2004, 12:29 pm
- Location: Oz or somepLace like Kansas
I used to listen to that CD a lot
I can't remember which song it was but the line
"hook me up with a heroin drip" comes to mind
I will have to listen again
thanks
to you both
you guys remind me of that bit from an Orson Wells movie {the third man?
something about switzerland and italy
in switzerland there was peace and tranquility
in italy you had the Borgias, war etc etc
and switzerland produced the cookoo clock
and italy Michealangelo, DaVince, etc
the sparks got to fly I suppose
I can't remember which song it was but the line
"hook me up with a heroin drip" comes to mind
I will have to listen again
thanks
to you both
you guys remind me of that bit from an Orson Wells movie {the third man?
something about switzerland and italy
in switzerland there was peace and tranquility
in italy you had the Borgias, war etc etc
and switzerland produced the cookoo clock
and italy Michealangelo, DaVince, etc
the sparks got to fly I suppose
- Doreen Peri
- Site Admin
- Posts: 14616
- Joined: July 10th, 2004, 3:30 pm
- Location: Virginia
- Contact:
thanks, truck!
the piece you're referring to is Machines
Inspired by Terry Shivo.
Another collaboration of words, LR's music, my vocals.
I don't remember that movie. Gotta look it up. I remember the name but I don't remember if I saw it. Why do we remind you of that movie? hmmmm
the piece you're referring to is Machines
Inspired by Terry Shivo.
Another collaboration of words, LR's music, my vocals.
I don't remember that movie. Gotta look it up. I remember the name but I don't remember if I saw it. Why do we remind you of that movie? hmmmm
- stilltrucking
- Posts: 20647
- Joined: October 24th, 2004, 12:29 pm
- Location: Oz or somepLace like Kansas
Machines,
powerful
thank you
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0041959/quotes
The Third Man was a very strange movie. I think it is a classic.
Here is the theme from it
<object width="425" height="350"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/sjiI5KkcWD8"></param><param name="wmode" value="transparent"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/sjiI5KkcWD8" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="350"></embed></object>
powerful

thank you
Like the fella says, in Italy for 30 years under the Borgias they had warfare, terror, murder, and bloodshed, but they produced Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci, and the Renaissance. In Switzerland they had brotherly love - they had 500 years of democracy and peace, and what did that produce? The cuckoo clock.
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0041959/quotes
The Third Man was a very strange movie. I think it is a classic.
Here is the theme from it
<object width="425" height="350"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/sjiI5KkcWD8"></param><param name="wmode" value="transparent"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/sjiI5KkcWD8" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="350"></embed></object>
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