Jazzy Hip Hop - E.P

A live record I engineered in Avondale inside an Industrial warehouse. It's unpolished and raw but has a sweet vibe.

My heart will shatter like stained glass flung from the heights of heavens window

My first introduction to the work of Byron - 'She Walks in Beauty'

According to wikipedia Byron the poet/writer was the first rock star celeb.
Apparently the public of his time suffered from Byronmania haha.
His name at birth was George Gordon Byron. He arrived on the
22 January 1788 in London, England. All I know is this man could write. 
Check out one of his most famous poems below that he wrote about his 
cousins widow dressed in black while attending a fancy ball.
Apparently Nietzsche was also a fan of Byron and his idea of the superman
stems from Byron and his byronic hero that figures heavily in his written works.

Swift-footed Love Ad infinitum

Pangs of a Poetess

Pangs of a poetess
Afraid to love
With broken words
and fragmented sentences
She hated herself 

Always choosing a simile
Over a smile
How all her words came out wrong
In a rebellious rage
She aimed to dominate
all her ideas upon a page 

But it was useless
To no avail
How could a true poet
Give up on the quest for love? 

For somewhere
Out there
In treacherous lands
A future beloved
could be heard
singing her name 

Travelling miles
dreaming of little else
carrying only
A passionate desire
to love her
some how

this is for the ones who didn't make it

You seem trapped like a stoat slowly dying
Lost in a cycle of self-destruction and praise
One finger on the button of the nuclear bomb, hand on your crotch
Could you do it kill woman, children, husbands indiscrimantly
In an instant flesh burnt to dust by the man made sun of Hiroshima

Underlining pain and turmoil married to social unrest
Black slaves in the street know the real pain of the oppressed
Are you reader willing to fight even die at my side
 in an army of citizens swaying marching left right left right
Reaching out hands poised with serated knives
 or will the state do us in and steal our lives
Why not simply save face and conceal the magic of swines

A hundred years a thousand more and were still no closer to peace on earth
Locked in the throws of rapture brought on by torturing your toes
 we languish embedded in a holy war of symbols ruled by an aristocratic asterisk
The rich the poor everyone suffering due to impounded interest and slanted economics
Our world the great leveller crushing us into a small tidy compressed trash can
Of False humility and wickedness black grimy and festering
We grow and improve forever imprisoned in a cacophonous groove
In an eternal return to dance across stars like a melancholy moon
Who speaks "life is so pretty but it always ends so soon"

Onwards upwards climbing pecariously in the pit of hell
The work must be done our minds reforged for a labour ensues
Fighting off depression evil thoughts sharper than sickles and swords
At the same time we are becoming what you dreamt a million times
For Inside us lies dormant the keys to a universe of joy
Like a newborn child humanities essential character is good

David Merrit - Describing the role of the poet in New Zealand society

David Merritt from Paris Mercedes on Vimeo.

i wish i could fall asleep in a sky full of pillows with you by my side drunk on last nights purple rain

i wish i could fall asleep in
a sky full of pillows
with you by my side
drunk on last nights
purple rain
slumbering and snoring
while still wide awake
i would rise from the depths of illusion
in the middle of the night
to check upon you
the object of my desire
my love personfied in womanly form
I would caress your angular face
with my own
make sure you were still soft and as supple
as i remembered
finding tension in your neck
I would massage your shoulders
a token of helpless love
with no recompense necessary
let alone asked for
gently resting
I would smile like a hyena
your body undressed
like the flesh of a kill
with more curves than a Greek bronze statue
i would greedily run my hand down the side
of your body above your beating heart
until suddenly hit by a bolt of pure inspiration
I would traverse rocking oceans finally
resting my right palm across your flank
the battle of all 3 parts of my soul complete
reason buckling and swaying seduced by vice
I would grip your round excess in the tendons of my fingers
like a wild and reckless matador
overcome by the cries of the crowd
shining with allsorted coloured beads
drapped in blood
I would dutifully kiss your milk white forehead
and sing inaudible sonatas played on stringless violins into your ears
Like an aged man
Only then would I return to Apollo and his realm of dreams
dancing in fantasy and de-constructing my own insanity
Finally I would then resign to the cracks of destiny and fate
crawling underneath stone
intoxicated by the Dionysian vision
that Aphrodite is mine

For Love is Not Cruel Torture

Rainbows sting

like scorpions

poisoning the cloudy winds

your hazel eyes

weeping salty tears
sorry not sorry i shan't be giving in
For love is not cruel torture
nor a contract drafted up for commercial gain

true love is simple friendship inside a searing twin flame
so burn on burn on like a neon highway lighting my lovers way

as i am quite certain I shall never return from whence i came
snoring down a highway

slumped over drooling on a cloud
i sink back into my couch

upholstered with freezing water vapour
as I mis-pronounce unkempt wedding vows

i love a woman in red

i love a woman in red

it sends signals inside my head

primal lust mixed with temperance

desire allure excitement

the colour of blood dripping red
a powerful woman approaching yes

not a mother daughter or sister no

instead someone you beckon close

without shame or regret things unfold

on the couch in the bed on the floor

within your heart one thousand colours burn to red

It's in the wind and the wet that one becomes thankful for the roof over ones head

Inspired by a Woman of Unearthly Beauty

You have the most
Beautiful eyes and nose
Your beauty is like a dancing muse making love to centaurs
Your eyebrows only accentuate the maddening affect your appearance has on my soul
I was once a lion now fully transformed I'm like a child one stones throw away from enlightenment
Inside my body I sing and preform sonatas in your honour
Though they never do you justice
I fear I have been reduced to a rambling fool drunk on love swinging on a bar stool
Lusciously and lavishly your lips seem to me worth more than riches
What a real woman can inspire in man knows no bounds
I would devote myself to slavery if it meant having you!

Musings about Bukowski and Hemingway with a sly Zizek reference haha ;)

Musings about poet Bukowski as well as a reference to Hemingway plus 'objet petit a' Lacan's theory of desire that Zizek finds compelling

the rich exiled to the streets pan-handling

I want to reshape the world
so you bow at my feet
So ill never have to phathom bending the knee
I want to reshape the world     So We are free Free from mans sins
That drench the world in monkey business
Human instincts 35 million years old
What is the point of impoverishing us all
The young.  The unborn
The working poor
With not a cent to her name she continues on
Running herself into the ground tank on empty the orange light beaming out
Is it funny do you cackle all alone when your shut up tight in your smug little home
Have you ever struggled to pay for the glutinous food that dances upon your dinner plate
To pay the rent  is to smother man in a garden made of sand
Has the will ever left you to get up out of bed
On a bright sunny morning with sunlight streaming in
Well many do.  Mostly likely never you. But I change is near for the corrupt I fear
the people shall descend    Devoid of fear   The mob will rule  like the wairau affair
To the great suburbs they march  with taiaha and bull bars To steal back there mana
Like deadly gentle soldiers peaceful at heart
who would rather be practicing sculptural art in a modest garage
It's funny to think how expediently   the rich can lose
Exiled to the streets pan handling

Random act of Kindness

Random act of Kindness

Not everyone’s suffering from blindness

I man grabbed my hand said good day

Smiled and walked away

i was taken aback

Surprised, taken aback by such a random act of kindness

But then I thought back

And placed his face finding it in a lost memory bank

I recognized him from days gone past

He was the man I saw walking around in daze

Encircling the mt albert shops

months ago seems like years

When I was waiting for some takeaways

The proverbial fish and chips

I saw the same man in a black hoodie

Breathing frost out of his nostrils on a windswept night

He combed the streets like a well trained assassin

Or a hairdresser on drugs

He scanned up and down the pavement for cigarette butts

His search was futile but he seemed happy enough

I watched him as he gave up

Before he crossed the the street at the traffic lights

He turned to me with an exuberance you rarely see

I smiled back genuinely

Is it not strange how he remembered me

cheap Hollywood ass flickers like a pixelated picture

There's a fine line between love and hate 

Hell and heaven are just minutes away 

The champ said the weak break 

And only the strong survive 

Does that mean I'm destined to fall

While others thrive 

Like a glass window shattering

Contorting falling snapping 

can this bad luck stop happening

i need to feel real magic no smoke and mirrors

cheap Hollywood ass flickers like a pixelated picture 

was Iverson wrong when he said the strong dont crumble 

like a pill turnt to white powder

Roses in Full bloom perish too 

The weak grow strong 

when you save their lives

Strengths a foundation that's constantly shaking 

dont exist just live but avoid indoctrination 

by the status quo of developed nations

the irony is that powerful seal their fate 

to play the victim, when we turn our backs

We're all born with nothing and leave so quick

To be reborn brand new and come back to earth

Falling from the clouds in and out of love  

can we Break up to Make up so i forget the hurt 

another long lost love affair repeating endlessly 

I cry my eyes out but they dry Again 

Am I

I am

I'm ready 

I'm ready too 

I'm ready to fall in love again

Theoradical Hobohemians - Mercury Theatre 2015 Official Trailer

Like the Big Bang the Theoradical Hobohemians 2015 "OBLIVION" exploded into existence with mind boggling dimensions!!! We are very proud to present this show at Auckland City's stunning Edwardian Theatre. We have Poets doing what Poets do best..Ranting about LOVE!!! We got our Vaudevillian Spectacle on with our special guest Hobohemian, violin virtuoso Murray van Horn...a wonderful addition to the troupe!! More than a show...a way of life!!!

Theoradical Hobohemian's Oblivion Show @The Mercury Theatre Trailer 2015

Like the Big Bang the Theoradical Hobohemians 2015 "OBLIVION" show exploded into existence with mind boggling dimensions!!! We are very proud to present this show at Auckland city's stunning Edwardian Mercury Theatre. Poets doing what Poets do best..Ranting about LOVE! Our Vaudevillian Spectacle kicks off with Astors Piazzolla's classical masterpiece "Oblivion" performed by violin virtuoso Murray Van Horn. Jammed packed with music, poetry & laughs Theoradical Hobohemians is more than a show...it's a way of life! Full length performances from the show will be on Youtube very soon, please refer to our FB page for details
https://www.facebook.com/theoradicalhobohemians 

Theoradical Hobohemians @ Mercury Theatre Sat 16th May (Video Trailer)

Get Your Tickets at: http://theoradicalhobohemians.bigcartel.com
We're Back!!! The THEORADICAL HOBOHEMIANS are proud to present their new Show "OBLIVION". Poets Doing What Poets Do Best  Ranting about...LOVE!! Sat 16th May 8pm Door Sales from 7pm  Mercury Theatre, 9 Mercury Lane. A Vaudevillian Spectacle of music, poetry & art.
Facebook page:  https://www.facebook.com/theoradicalhobohemians
Facebook Event: https://www.facebook.com/events/580248708780784/

We have the poets doing what poets do best...RANTING but this time its all about LOVE!! We are incredibly lucky to have the very popular American Grand Slam Winner Poet Ken Arkind as Guest Theoradical Hobohemian!! This is a charity event & we are raising money for the homeless...so come along & have a wonderful night & help out our inner city Hobohemians!!

Tourettes on his "Childhood" a song from Dead Dogs Dance

Tourettes - ChildHood

 when i was young my parents used to lie to me a lot
my mother once told me the water from the hot tap was poisonous 

on another occasion
my father said the sound of the waves breaking was a Taniwha
now i have a reckless imagination

my folks were working class hippies
which meant we ate organic granny smith apples
but it was ok to swear at the television
there was always a pack of dogs in our house
all of which my mother had composed songs for
my father smoked weed and played scrabble with local madmen
sometimes he'd sit for hours without speaking and then suddenly say something like Reconbockulating and refuse to elaborate
for a few months to rebel my sister became a born again Christian
and i was forbidden to eat mc Donald's or watch the A team
so i survived on Volgels bread and Easten European coming of age films
its funny how everyone thinks their normal

at age 7 my heros were Arnold schwarzenegger , Elvis Presley and the Velvet Underground
the boogieman was Robert Muldon
at gay fawkes we'd burn crude effigies of him in screaming bonfires
i remember protests
against the springbok tour
against Rogernomics
against nuclear testing
carnivals of desperate rage 
parading down queen street
amongst this unrest 
the rainbow warrior came to town
i had imagined something majestic
after all it was going save us from nuclear holocaust
but it was just a big green boat
and then some french spies blew it up
i had the same name as one of the agents 

at my primary school
the decal rating was so low it had a decibel point in front of it
once the mayor came to talk to the school 
we all sat on the field
while she gave her speech two dogs started fucking behind her
and this says all you need to know about Grey Lynn primary

everybody in the neighborhood was fluent in violence
they spoke it at school, the teachers to the students the parents to the teachers the students to me
my mother would scream it at us in the bath waving wooden spoons and plastic sandals
my father would mutter it throwing toys and televisions out onto the road
the older kids would hiss it in the streets after dark
to this day i understand the language perfectly but cant speak a word of it to save myself

my mother believed we wouldn't live to grow up
that nuclear bombs would rain down on us out any second
so she let us run wild in the sewers beneath our street
high on brown sugar and nightmares
it was the 80's things were different then

when i was young
it seemed like everything was crazy.
now I'm older i know that it is.

credits

from Dead Dogs Dance, released 31 October 2013
Poem - Tourettes
Beat - Scratch 22