mouthporn.net
#dogrel – @aeolianblues on Tumblr
Avatar

aeolianblues

@aeolianblues / aeolianblues.tumblr.com

Amateur writer and cartoonist, trash poetry specialist, musician, punk radio host, computer science student and enthusiast. Muser, hi hello! Museblogging at @sunburnacoustic. Disastrously cooking at @vengefulcooking
Avatar

In light of Curley finally appearing on lead vocals on a Fontaines track, singing Sundowner, here’s a performance that made me mad in lockdown: Curley doing a solo at-home performance of Roy’s Tune acoustic in 2020 for Rolling Stone France.

Avatar
reblogged
Avatar
aeolianblues

I can think of quite a few people who will enjoy this: Grian doing a quick read of the excellent second verse of Too Real by Fontaines D.C. Even in a casual read, his diction is so good.

The winter evening settles down The bruised and beat up open sky Six o'clock The city in its final dress And now a gusty shower wraps the grimy scraps Of withered leaves all about your feet And then the ringing of a twitching hand Six o'clock, six o'clock

(As pointed out by the comments—because I won't claim to have as vast a knowledge of poetry, though I wish I did!—it's inspired by the T.S. Eliot poem Preludes)

The winter evening settles down With smell of steaks in passageways. Six o'clock. The burnt-out ends of smoky days. And now a gusty shower wraps The grimy scraps Of withered leaves about your feet And newspapers from vacant lots; The showers beat On broken blinds and chimney-pots, And at the corner of the street A lonely cab-horse steams and stamps. And then the lighting of the lamps.

Avatar

I can think of quite a few people who will enjoy this: Grian doing a quick read of the excellent second verse of Too Real by Fontaines D.C. Even in a casual read, his diction is so good.

The winter evening settles down The bruised and beat up open sky Six o'clock The city in its final dress And now a gusty shower wraps the grimy scraps Of withered leaves all about your feet And then the ringing of a twitching hand Six o'clock, six o'clock

(As pointed out by the comments—because I won't claim to have as vast a knowledge of poetry, though I wish I did!—it's inspired by the T.S. Eliot poem Preludes)

The winter evening settles down With smell of steaks in passageways. Six o'clock. The burnt-out ends of smoky days. And now a gusty shower wraps The grimy scraps Of withered leaves about your feet And newspapers from vacant lots; The showers beat On broken blinds and chimney-pots, And at the corner of the street A lonely cab-horse steams and stamps. And then the lighting of the lamps.

You are using an unsupported browser and things might not work as intended. Please make sure you're using the latest version of Chrome, Firefox, Safari, or Edge.
mouthporn.net