A chant poem
Pulsing, the beat, pressing, confessing, to my eardrums, it’s darkest desires, drumming out the serotonin, honing my senses, defences dropping, beat dropping,
Those memories, seventeen, eighteen, mean nothing, without my memory, alive in me, these memories, living, I remember the days, those were the days, the days I can barely remember,
The nights, seventeen, eighteen, glean, bright, the lights, strobing, probing for my serotonin, honing my senses, defences dropping, beat dropping,
Letting go, going to let, any fret, of the day, go, days go by slower, than today, when months pass, in a way, more transient, those days, more transcendent,
Throbbing, breath penetrating, deeper, cigarettes to keep her, the rush, hot breath, hot touch, the rush, a gush of serotonin, honing my senses, defences dropping, beat dropping,
Those were the days…
© Darius the Mate
Written for dVerse Poets Pub, Meeting at the bar. Join in!
What is life without community? I would love to connect with other nicecissists out there. Reach out, let me know what you think in the comments, and of course, give me a follow for more – nice!
Wordplay Pathway
nicecissist 
This is gorgeously rendered! I can really feel the intensity of the chant here as we are led into a glimpse of those days. 💝💝
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Thank you sweet lady!
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I can feel every beat in this great chant poem …. cheers!
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Thank you Helen 🙂
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This really brings back some memories… the intensity works very well with the wildness of those days… I don’t think it was as fun as i remember it really… sometimes just walking home alone afterwards to a hello of a hangover.
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Oh yes, the journey home, and those fuzzy (in retrospect, and in fact, in the moment) mornings.
For me, getting on the London Underground, travelling home after a “interesting” night, and crossing paths with the commuters on their way to work, bleary eyed and yawning, coffee on breath, locked in a metal box, on the tube, eyes making contact, in an awkward exchange, with those (us) wide eyed, and practically vibrating – when two worlds collide.
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Wow, Darius, great work with the chant! Those heady youthful days brought back to life 🙂
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Thanks Ingrid 😍
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I remember those years when nights were louder than days and my hair stank of cigarettes and every new bit of music was an adventure. Great piece! Great beat!
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Thank you Worms, that means a lot! Free hugs!
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Seventeen, eighteen memories, so sweet to relive once more!
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.. those were the days! When, everything was new and exciting.
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The beat is relentless in this Darius, and powerfully engaging — good write!
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Thank you 🙏☺️
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I like the flow of this stream of consciousness. It’s a lot like a blitz poem
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It’s inspired by physical dance, so that’s very fitting! Pleased I could get you in the beat. Thank you for the comment Lisa.
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You’re welcome.
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Very vivid, Darius! I can really feel the chaos of the scene, especially the lights, the breath, and the beat.
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Thank you Lucy ❤️
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