Sunday, 18 November 2012

poetry corner

Inside the bland hole 
(François Marceau)

Low-fi percussions & tight ambience
A wobbling bassline
Lots of sampling with light sequencing
Minimal techno in the air
No band
No deejay
No MC in sight
Computerized emotionless simulacra
Holograms of déjà vu
Dancing like a robot on Viagra
Without meaning
Without sense, emotionless
A couple of smart / speed drinks
Some tabs of unknown origin
Keeps you going
It starts to make sense
Even though there is no sense at all
It feels like
You`re part of the crowd
You`re part of the gang
Feels like you`re fitting in
For once…
There`s a rave in my head wich never stops.

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