Brain Scramble

This past Saturday my good friend Subconscious Colours let me basically spew out some of my work with him on stage and I personally want to thank him for organizing the event, being kind enough to include me in his musical sorcery and shenanigans, and for being just the sort of creative whirlwind I really need to feel inspired.

The other artists at the show really blew my mind out of the water, and by that, I mean I think I've lost a bit of my sanity and hearing after the madness that was summoned out of their instruments and gear (as this was a noise show, this seems to be an indicator of the success, not the failure, of a performance). I wrote a poem inspired in part by Derek M. Poteat's performance that really evoked feelings of the beliefs people have about how the rapture is suppose to occur - fracturing, earth shattering loud. 

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the bassist went on stage

and in the orchestra pit, my brain was prepped for surgery,

he played the end-of-days anthem,

a lowly tone slammed against metal

that is destined to deafen the sinful

into soundless purity

And the volume, the bassist knew, must be so enormous,

so palpably huge, that it forces one’s atomic structure to break down

and align into new shapes

after hearing all of this, we are spiritually new beings

but I still am scheduled for a nine o’ clock brain scramble

because there exists no galactic level of soundwave

that can compel me to give up this angel

I’m holding hostage between my teeth

She has the four letter word she robbed from me

stored in her vial of Debt she collects from those

who have paid their due to the Almighty

but I never gave her a penny, and

she took my verbal talisman against evil

because no mortal should have such power

So the Angelic band of Assassins figured

if they can tooth pick out my brain,

as though preparing the meat for a sandwich platter,

the part of me where all of my words are gathered,

would spill out into my skull,

losing motor control, my jaw would go slack,

and the angel, with my charm against the devil,

will return unto God what I stole

from the good book’s footnotes.

Fuck.