Driving down this long stretch of road
there’s nothing to see outside but darkness
I’m terrified of the battery going dead
but then I remember, and I’m comforted
with the thought of her weight pressing
against me again, her dancing as she cooks
she snaps her fingers, and glide her shoulders
from side to side, yeah I stare at her behaviour
from the soulful secrets I’ve stored as memory
so precious to me now as I race through the desert
like a fugitive, I race through the night wandering
through these wasted cities, I close my eyes to the lights
as I’ve arrived at my destination, where nothing exist
where I stand, stranded, looking into her eyes, surrendering.
Author: nikkie
OCHROID
While everyone is sleeping, I lay awake
wondering what is holier than listening
for when finding the hum of your breathing
nothing else exist but this joyous jubilee
suddenly, the inanimate becomes alive
imagining golden horizons staring back at me.
Like a stray dog, I point my nose to the eclipsed
moon, begging for your scent, your sun, I wander
in circles, shivering on the last spot you stood saying
goodbye, I howl my loneliness for everyone to witness.
Not Nobody
Not nobody hears you sing a song so holy
disturbing my rest, with a new question mark
with a new need, that couldn’t be taken aback…
Not nobody can give you a proof of love as holy?
Not nobody can come up with a proof that love exist?
With it’s meant to be absolute? With it matrices
struggling to breathe as conditional decides
for us when we do unfold, gathering care for you
revealing silent songs of secret desires, desire
that rest with our bones, a ghost, we build
but never forget the wasted never leave mes.
Not nobody, I hear your song stories
please play your impressions again
as I keep hearing you dear, keeping you dear to me…
Looking for my Songbird
Muse
Now that I’ve found you dear
I don’t know what rest means
as longing has grip my moments
with short curls, and tender kisses
like a thief, stealing my soul away
I want to show you where my many colors begin
when each space has a ripple as riotous as a tending moment
leviatating slowly in the contours of your ebbing embrace
an effusion where I beg for your name.
Dream Pulse
Beating it’s unfathomable rhythm
breathing its ether time signatures
when to come in, when to rest
when to burst into a horizon
I found you and your lips…
Everyone should know this
I wanted to wait until we were old enough
when feelings are not like the fever of a child
now learning how to walk, embarking upon new terrain
it happened today, regardless, I felt the heat stinging my skin
with anticipation, I let go, and didn’t care if I fell on my face
an aderaline hot as day, summertime when it’s still winter
I imagined chimes of an ice-cream truck signaling change.
I wanted to resemble cool for you, I wanted to give you the superfacial
when there’s nothing cool about the unknown, I can’t pretend…
Just take me home
I don’t want flowers right now
they will begin a new displacement
with their crushed petals, bringing anew
as the creases of a page, that you just
bought from the corner store, trying to
make-up with things that doff…
Broad Strokes Wednesday, February 23 @ 8:00 p.m.
Live Wednesday, February 23 at 8:00 p.m. on Washington Heights Free Radio (WHFR)‘s Broad Strokes, Calypso Sally will have special guest, Mindy Abovitz, Editor-in-Chief, and founder of TOM TOM Magazine, a magazine about female drummers.
Broad Strokes streams live off the web every last Wednesday of the month at 8:00pm. I, Calypso Sally, that’s me, try to play a broad range of genres, stretching from indie rock, pop, alternative, noise rock, hip hop, reggae, dance hall, metal, calypso, funk etc. It’s sort of a mixed bag. I also have live acoustic performances. But this month I have media extraordinaire Mindy Abovitz in the house.
She’s going to talk to me about TOM TOM Magazine, women taking over the drum world, the music scene in NYC versus abroad, and how open the media has been with a woman taking on a predominantly male environment. Full throttle, however, she is wiping out the old school mentality!
Mindy Abovitz is a musician and media maker from South Florida currently residing in Brooklyn, NY. She has an undergraduate degree from the University of Florida and a Masters in Media Studies from the New School for Social Research. She has been playing drums for 11 years and has taught at Rock Camp for Girls and Vibe Songmakers. Before starting Tom Tom Magazine, Mindy was an engineer at East Village Radio, worked at Main Drag Music, threw music shows at her loft The Woodser, and played drums for Taigaa, More Teeth, The Good Good, and other Brooklyn bands. In 2009 she started Tom Tom Magazine: A Magazine About Female Drummers because there wasn’t one and media representation of female drummers was poor. She has since put out 5 issues of Tom Tom and plans on putting women musicians in the front and center of the media because that is where they belong. She currently drums for Chica Vas.
Playing my Tunes on the Steelpan
2 do
Two Strangers Kissing
I remember that night in Union Square,
I was telling you some ridiculous tale
of my boyish adventures. I remember
the moment, my hands freezing for your hold.
Everything you said to me resonated
in a way a tropical island warms you
somewhere far from the cold
more romantic than anything in English.
In that moment, I felt fluent in a syntax my tongue
was incapable of pronouncing as a teen
still yet to learn how to do proficiently.
While I was contemplating the correct
conjugative verb, the correct timing
to accent my impulses, you fell close
to me and our lips locked on these streets
where everything is dirty, and crude.
She talks about distance
When I’ve been born to be alone
I came into this world with my mother
She’s dead now, she left this place
with strangers, who may have cared
about her survival, and what it would
mean, for a a young survivor, but I’m…
Aloofness, it is definitely best
It tells you who your friends are
It tells you who really wants you.
Kissing is Necessary
Through the thickness of static
I feel a joyousness playing turns
on a turntable, a moment like this
where nothing exist but you close to me
on the pavement of Union and Get Ready
I drift sideways, and you have to direct me
to my train, because my mind forgot how to walk
infatuated with a high that is your kiss, I’ve discovered
a canoodle dialect, a prerequiste for breathing.
I’ll be reading this Tuesday!
Broad Strokes this Wednesday, January 26 @ 8:00p.m.
I’ll be doing my radio show, Broad Strokes, this Wednesday, January 26 @ 8:00 p.m. on Washington Heights Free Radio (WHFR). This will be my first broadcast for the year so check it out. Learn how to listen HERE.
You can listen to last month’s broadcast HERE.
Last month’s playlist
Tell ‘Em by Sleigh Bells
Moving In (Remix) by Pink Noise
Memo to the Man by Zach Hill
Transparency is the New Mystery by Marnie Stern
Trouble! by Turbo Fruits
Just for You by Object
She’s Long Gone by The Black Keys
Next One is Real by Pink Noise
Inspiration Prod. Kev Brown by Epsilon Project
Sprawl II (Mountains Beyond Mountains) Arcade Fire
Apologetic Shoulder Blades by Baths
I Walked by Sufjan Stevens
Slow by Twin Shadow
My Girls by Animal Collective
You Go, Uno by Kan Kick
What Does Your Soul Look Like (Part 4) by Dj Shadow
Bringing you stories, live events, and much more, WHFR tries and remains independent of any corporate sponsorship. So, if you like what WHFR is doing, you can donate by contacting us at info@whfr.org. DIY forever baby!
Also, if you’re in a band or know someone who is, and would like to be on the show, please email me at roarplanet@gmail.com.
Human Bites
cadger has invaded my dwelling with sleepless nights
wondering if my trails will make a full bed, follows me where
I sleep, and my neglect of the most functional of everyday
will give birth to offsprings, multiplying,
waiting in the wind for their time to discover
a skin populated with same colored fur as their hide
Belfry
In depths of dreams, we danced
and you asked me why am I here
where envy is capricious in every
eaten word, when I am a creature
of the night, an animal trapped in
the solar plexus of another’s imagination
Oh, The Unspeakable Things…
my lungs have suffered my loneliness
now, they have fluids floating in them
a cough isn’t sufficient anymore, I am
sick with my own disease, you can’t
recognize on the surface, but if my
insides can talk with such vehement
it would tell you how much you meant to me.
I think about where will I would go
it would be anywhere but here
where I lie naked on a dance floor
because I want the comfort of the trees
singing a breeze, dangerous at times
but I know what branch to slumber on
as I reach like the mountains’ peaks…







You must be logged in to post a comment.