A poetic slurry of words,
about the Toronto rave culture.
enjoy :)

  • The new-age underbelly
  • club scene
  • is perhaps,
  • an unsuspecting one.
  • Most of us
  • have not a clue it exists,
  • yet it is
  • everywhere
  • under our noses,
  • undulating about.
  • The electronic epilepsy,
  • of synthesizers spitting,
  • the sensation spinning
  • of a hundred-and-fifty
  • beats per minute.
  • The trepidation…
  • or so I would call it
  • of ‘techno’
  • and ‘trance’.
  • A place where
  • the lesser-known
  • lingers about,
  • the noxious night-gatherings,
  • seven days a week,
  • plotted about the city
  • like pharmacies
  • or fresh co.’s.
  • the manifestation
  • of mapquest made red.
  • Virtually everywhere…
  • a mass-assemblage 
  • of nocturnal nefariousness.
  • Double-down dementia,
  • a destitution of
  • dumb ass dance moves,
  • dust-devils
  • twisting and turning,
  • to a kind of
  • drive-me-mad
  • deviation of reality.
  • To rave…
  • a reminiscence
  • of psychedelia
  • and synesthesia,
  • murdered a genre
  • and beheaded
  • the beauty of it all.
  • Curdles to know
  • the cult catching on…
  • multiplying,
  • like a growth
  • or cancer… 
  • the scurrilous reproduction
  • of rat after rat.
  • the revolving door,
  • spitting out
  • more and more…
  • commitment
  • to this sub-versed
  • subculture.
  • Tell me how…
  • how is it…
  • an exciting thing,
  • to listen to 
  • a dissonant harmony.
  • a collection of
  • continuously-chimed 
  • choruses. 
  • Re-iteration
  • upon re-iteration, 
  • of ‘relish’. 
  • Green,
  • viscous,
  • shit.
  • Words
  • with no bearing,
  • like “pump it”
  • or “hit the floor”
  • over and over
  • as if repetition 
  • were something
  • of a ’rad’ thing.
  • What ever happened to…
  • Jazz?
  • and Jimi?
  • And…
  • Blues?
  • The Beatles?
  • “The connoisseurs of trance”
  • IF…
  • it is true
  • and 
  • the legacy
  • does die
  • with the legislator
  • like the ones
  • who outlawed
  • the California
  • ’sunshine’…
  • and forced people 
  • to go underground…
  • Then maybe,
  • it’s time
  • to fence-off
  • the dungeons
  • air-out
  • the fog machines
  • discontinue
  • the pre-set
  • pulsating lights…
  • and perhaps,
  • return to 
  • the realm of natural
  • luminescence.
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