Spoken word poetry I recorded recently.
Tag Archives: poem
SCATTERED LATE NIGHT THOUGHTS
SCATTERED LATE NIGHT THOUGHTS:
Sittin’ here, with my headphones on. Listening to scattered songs. Onward with the good fight, the merry thought, the beating of the drum, onward with collective thought, to where the art roams free, to where dreams become reality, another late night of mixed signals coming from the heart and mind, a series of mumbled thought, writing these words with no end in sight, onward. There is no energy left here to channel, there is no energy left to burn, late night ponder, late night blunder, with my headphones on, no thought left to blankly share, a series of memories, I don’t need anything to help convince me that I’m more alive than this, when the art creates me and I no longer scratch the charcoal across the paper, I write along to the beat of a song that is yet to be written, yet to be made, yet to be sung, onward, onward with the many thoughts I’ve got lost inside my head just waiting to be found, to be shared, mumbled, jumbled, lost inside my head. Sitting here, I’m feeling alright, alone with my thoughts, tired, sleepy, insomniac blues. Eventually I’ll try and sleep, but on humid summer nights I always feel this restless. I always feel this numb, but not in some grandiose melancholic typical way, but I’m alright, feeling good, good enough, with my headphones on, on another sleepless night, the music gives me life when all else fails, when all else fades into background static sound. I sit here, and think of how far I’ve come and how I will always keep moving onward, onward goes my merry thought, from this cynical bastards heart, through the good times and the bad times-mostly bad but thats alright, that is just how life goes, sittin’ here, with my headphones on, letting the music guide my heart, always putting trust into the beat. Heart and soul, heart and sound. Onward, with the good fight, with no end in sight, onward.
Stay classy.
-Dandy Jon-
Silence
Horizons
Words and Art by Dandy Jon
A Small World/The Edges and Horizons (Painting without poem): http://dandy-jon.deviantart.com/art/A-Small-World-The-Edges-and-Horizons-450934048
Dandy Jon DA: http://dandy-jon.deviantart.com
This Cold Dream
Distortion I
Distortion I
I close my eyes, inside a dream
Every color fades and every sound pulsates
With each fuck you take in and with each fuck I spew out
A collision of tortured dreamers, with headphones on I drift
I shiver, and shake, and scream, and shout out distorted mumbles
Shattered delusions, with everything I take inside
Just take me out of here, take me away, antihero
Inside a dream, this lovely scheme, distortions
Music pulsates through every part of me, distortions
Lovely distortions of who we once were, what we could have been
Music bleeding through this heart and soul of me
With every fuck I give, with every blurred light I wander into, inside
So cynical with simplicity, so list inside of this, whatever this could be
I close my eyes, inside what appears to be a dream
Someone else’s dream
Just get me out of here, take me from all of this
We don’t belong here, we don’t belong
Inside this sickly blurry dream
We don’t belong here
-Jon Powder-
Wishes
Wishes
I wish for you
Something true
Much truer than this
You deserve so much more
To anyone who cares
I wish you the best
That this life has to offer
To those whom I’ve loved
Family, friends
Makeshift enemies
I do my best to not hold grudges
Even if my weaknesses get to the best of me
I honestly try
To not let my sadness
Take me whole
Even during my darkest moments
I do what I can
To break free from this feeling
This fire will soon fade
And as I sit here and contemplate
All of my wishes
I send out to you
All of you
The night may get cold
But the sun will even shine
Through the coldest days
May these wishes of mine
Reach you
And wrap around you
I send out to you
My best wishes
And may you do what you can
To keep the light shining
In your heart
In your gracious hearts
Every last one of you
I send you my best wishes
Because it is all that a person can do
Can do
-Jon Powder-
The Creative Process
The Creative Process
Its back to the basics for me
Poetry, my poetry
In my journal, open for all to see
Write me, and read me to my brethren and sisterhood
Make use of me, as I daydream
Dissect me if only for critical use to make your art
More better to yourself, more useful in
The creative process
If only for self esteem and everything
In between
Its back to the basics for me
When I’m locked in my room
Trapped inside another poem being read
And written
I can’t leave anything unwritten
So its back to the drawing board for me
In my poetry, you can see me
But can you really see what I see
Dissect me, if only to make use
Of these train wrecks and boycotts
And self esteem ridden pieces of me
The creative process processes me
I am for you
Dissect me
-Jon Powder-
a collision of summer/autumn thoughts
Headphones on, soaring into this summer breeze, soon to be autumn dreams, nightmare treachery, blow me a kiss, send me a wish, all the joys simple and spoken softly, simple empathies, and I’ll go where my heart wishes to go, violence and serenity, flutters about such simple things, writing poetry for no one in particular, for no one but me, but this heart echoes on, like a melody, strung on a guitar, drawn out on paper, displayed on a computer screen, played out like make-believe, empty vessel apathies, everything is all but dreams and schemes and nightmares screaming from deep within and isn’t that all that this ever was, ever could be, when reflections reveal something that wasn’t there before, when nothing makes sense but scattered poetry, in beauty and sorrows, and for now I wish to be, something only that I can see, something that only I can feel, empty jaded happy faces, in images that I’ve smudged and written off as simplicity, I wish not to scatter myself that way, I’ll sway to another dreamworld, to another realm of imagination, anything you can’t see, anything you can’t feel, just a blur on the other side of the screen, can all puppeteers cut the chords and ever be truly free from the holes from whence they were sewn and tied and held up for display, come make play of all that you wish to see, come make play of the simplest melodies, a shoegaze dream, wrapped up in buzzbox feed, let this melody bleed, for now it is summer as you can see, soon autumn will come to dance with me, on the night of my birth, on the night when I opened my eyes for the first time, years have long since passed, but the melody still rings true, my heart echoes on, like a melody sung in silence, from me to you, whoever you may be, with your headphones on, soaring into summer breeze, soon to be autumn serenity, autumn beauty, autumn poetry, a beautiful melody, echoing forever on, onward…
-Dandy Jon Powder-
A Scattered Series of Morning Thoughts
…A Scattered Series of Morning Thoughts… I, dreamer, choose not to display anything other than who I wish to be, an artist, a fighter, an endless body of work that maps out my queer punk poetry, my series of sorrows, my pleasures, my contemplations, my fuck ups and my strengths to endure, to disturb, to irritate, to make humor of… an arsenal of wordplay to play with along the merry and content, to bring on black storm clouds, to rain down my life into these makeshift words, I don’t know and nor do I care if my sense is made clear in the minds of hipsters who glare back in my direction, converse a thought, an open book, converse a speech only to be heard of by yourself, contemplations, makeshift dreams into reality, wide awake fucked, because making sense is a senseless act of millions of thoughts fighting to be heard, but the ones that remain silent are the ones worth fighting for, worth keeping to yourself. I, dreamer, choose to only be all that I want to be, and never sell myself short for anyone else’s expectations of me, and here as it may be, connect the dots, an endless series of imagery, so sit here, with me, if you will, choose, or ignore all together… Converse, convey, follow whichever dream leads you to whichever foxhole you choose to fall into, some fall deep, some crawl out, some scatter and shatter in reality disbelief, truth is often ugly, even at its best, ugly even when rearranged to look pretty in poetic designs. Because poetry is fight, poetry is spirit, poetry is protest. A revolution for the self and only you can save yourself. Converse another day away, sleep a shiftless sleep, awake at the slightest ruckus of day to day city life, a scattered series of morning thoughts, wide awake, lost in thought, with headphones on and the music blaring through my skull, a scattered series of morning thoughts, cascading into daydreams and vivid imagery, converse a thought, it is for you to do so, to bellow in, wallow in sweet sorrows and delights, a scattered series of morning thoughts, its been awhile since I bled such sweet poetry, its been awhile since I gave a damn to do so, but its worth every moment, to dream this way, all the art I’ve bled and poetry that I’ve written and read, to share these dreams with you, scattered as they may be, is worth the time, the effort, a scattered series of morning thoughts, from me to you, even when truth is ugly, let it share its afterglow, all the cracks, dirt, blood, sweat and all, when making sense is a senseless jumble, give no fucks to complainers and carry on the march, converse another afterthought, make play of your disbeliefs, do what bleeds the best… I, dreamer, choose to carry on, even when things get fucked up, when things pull through, when things fall apart, when new roads are met, with enthusiasm, a sense of dread, a sense of melancholy, a sense of unknown feelings, wherever these roads take me. I, dreamer, choose to only display who I am, who I wish to be, who I am on the inside, and however you make of it, is up to you, up to you…
-Dandy Jon Powder-
DandyJon 