Blues heart,
A rattling chain,
Dragged to the
Desolate dirt
Beneath…
Blues heart,
A rattling chain,
Dragged to the
Desolate dirt
Beneath…
His foxy lady groove,
An intuitive rumble
To the steel gods
In skies kissed by
Passion.
Cloud of pearls,
Overlooking
Peace protests.
Crowned in difference,
His soul’s walk,
The funky reunion
Of his soul’s backlogs…
The boy’s thin frame,
Cloaked in heavy sweaters.
A mind on its synapses,
Drowned in social
Stupor.
Egg crate of feelings,
A sensitive form
He takes.
Moments in needle binges,
The exploding romance,
A chance to quit.
His songs,
The rushes of veins opened,
Drained in
Sparks tied to dead-end
Emotions.
I’ve been singing for awhile and playing violin even longer. It was great to finally set up a sound tent with my boyfriend, who is a guitarist. He met a guy whose brother owns the largest independent record label in Nashville. We’re going to send a 3-song demo to the label. It wasn’t actually too difficult to build the sound tent for recording. The only challenge was inserting grommets into three black moving blankets. We bought some PVC piping from Lowe’s and shower curtain handles for cheap. The setup took about an hour and a half. I’m hoping to take my music to the next level!
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