Jump to content

Deeptrope

Members
  • Content Count

    35
  • Joined

  • Last visited

Community Reputation

10 Good

1 Follower

About Deeptrope

  • Rank
    Contributing Muse
  • Birthday 05/06/1962

Contact Methods

  • Facebook
    https://www.facebook.com/sloganspun
  • YouTube
    https://www.youtube.com/user/Sloganspun?feature=mhee

Profile Information

  • Gender
    Male
  • Location
    Charlotte
  • Interests
    Writing, Hiking, Concerts, Sports, Festivals, harassing poetry publishers :)

Previous Fields

  • Lyricist, Composer or Both?
    Lyricist
  • Musical Influences?
    Rush (Neil Peart), Pink Floyd (Poger Waters), Tommy Shaw

Recent Profile Visitors

The recent visitors block is disabled and is not being shown to other users.

  1. Deeptrope

    #MeToo version 3

    I don't know about all this technical stuff, dude, I can imagine some beautiful music coming from this. I guess it hits home for me in verse 3. As a sober alcoholic of 14 years, I can certainly relate to the "animal". Would love to hear it. John
  2. Deeptrope

    Roads

    © 2018 John Heavern 2 S-7/21/18, Roads Adventures down the interstate, a long and winding country lane. The city streets can simulate a road to drive a man insane. The many roads we contemplate are similar but not the same. Ch) Covered in gravel, covered in tar, covered in metaphors coming ajar. Roads to redemption, roads of regret, roads that seem longer the further we get. Roads are revealing and slippery when wet. The profiteers who pay the tolls to travel roads of great excess are passing by their yielding souls to park inside of selfishness. No shouldering of guilt for goals on roads that lead to happiness. Ch) Covered in gravel, covered in tar, covered in metaphors coming ajar. Roads to redemption, roads of regret, roads that seem longer the further we get. Roads to forgiveness don´t always forget. Br) Roads to reason, roads with curves, bumpy roads, unsettled nerves. Different modes of different roads don´t always go where we deserve. Sometimes the road less traveled is the one that´s better served. Ch) Covered in gravel, covered in tar, covered in metaphors coming ajar. Roads to redemption, roads of regret, roads that seem longer the further we get. Roads are the strings to our marionettes.
  3. Deeptrope

    Technology Slaves

    "Swiped" it is!
  4. Deeptrope

    brand new

    Yeah, dude, I pretty much feel like it has a lot of heart, just seems like you rushed it out here. I'm glad someone got into the technical aspects of it that my simple mind barely comprehends. I just knew that it seemed vague in parts. I noticed that "levy" thing someone brought up and some grammatical errors, but if it's a first draft, congrats! Lot's of potential. John
  5. Deeptrope

    Technology Slaves

    Thanks for the words. Wondering now if I should have written "swiped" away. Ya' think?
  6. Deeptrope

    Technology Slaves

    Opening is true. Felt lost! I became totally obsessed until I found my phone! Got me thinking... © 2018 John Heavern S-8/21/18, Technology Slaves I lost my phone the other day, my human contact wiped away. It serves me right, I misbehaved, I put technology at bay. For what it's worth is hard to say, my calculator's gone astray. Ch) It seems we've been led down a stream of illusion to drown in a sea of our data solutions. The road to the future numerically paved from the hospital crib to the Google-mapped grave. The satellites tracking our movement in waves gives cause to concede we're technology slaves. Br) I'll go to my grave a technology slave, the future is written in code. The digital age is more than a phase, it's carrying personal loads. The data selected, summed and collected will clutter serenity's road. I don't understand how it got out of hand, I must be in “Man”-ual mode! Ch) It seems we've been led down a stream of illusion to drown in a sea of our data solutions. The road to the future numerically paved from the hospital crib to the Google-mapped grave. The satellites tracking our movement in waves gives cause to concede we're technology slaves. "In God We Trust", a lexicon not worth the wood it's printed on. The dollar's bill is too fargone, it's eminence, a hanger-on. Our culpability has dawned accountable and overdrawn. Ch) It seems we've been led down a stream of illusion to drown in a sea of our data solutions. The road to the future numerically paved from the hospital crib to the Google-mapped grave. The satellites tracking our movement in waves gives cause to concede we're technology slaves. deeptrope@icloud.com
  7. Deeptrope

    I Just Go Where It Takes Me

    Thank you! For someone not native to english, you get it! The inside rhymes are intentional and I had no plans on changing "mine". I actually wondered about "inhibitions" but liked the meaning enough to push it. I tend to believe a singer can make things work sometimes, when I shouldn't, or maybe I'm rationalizing to justify capitulation. Either way, I'm so glad a singer responded! I can carry a tune, but not very far (key of A). Too much smokin' jokin' and chokin'! Plenty more material on my site and more in the files. Starting to put lyrics to this guy's sample pack of tunes now, for practice. Never wrote to existing music, but first couple worked out pretty well. I prefer to write original material and let the mood of the song dictate the lyrics. Thanks for the wonderful insight! © 2018 John Heavern S-1/27/13, Lyrical Spheres I’m never quite sure what to do with the moments in time that I write. Deficient in finding a clue to announce them profound or too trite. Limitations affecting my sight. Ch) Too simple for poetry, too silent for song, not really sure where my passion belongs. Compiling and filing as days drift along, frames for my visions are quietly drawn. Lyrical spheres, inspired frontiers, creations awaiting a musical dawn. No music to fill in the lines around the ideas composed, I'm bound to feel somewhat confined in the silent approach to my prose. I need musical notes to enclose. Ch) Too simple for poetry, too silent for song, not really sure where my passion belongs. Compiling and filing as days drift along, frames for my visions are quietly drawn. Lyrical spheres, inspired frontiers, creations awaiting a musical dawn. Br) At a loss for the music I crave, I fear I'm a lyrical slave. The meter and rhyme keeping verses in time to the noteless emotions I save. I need sound to surround me in waves. Ch) Too simple for poetry, too silent for song, not really sure where my passion belongs. Compiling and filing as days drift along, frames for my visions are quietly drawn. Lyrical spheres, inspired frontiers, creations awaiting a musical dawn. deeptrope@icloud.com John "Life isn't fair, it's more of a carnival" - JPH
  8. Deeptrope

    I Just Go Where It Takes Me

    Thanks, I'll look into that. John
  9. Deeptrope

    I Just Go Where It Takes Me

    Not sure what you read, was it this? : © 2018 John Heavern 1 S-8/19/18, A Metaphor It never seems to go away, comparisons to paraphrase: situations I conceive through happenstance and make-believe. I´m breeding similarity. Ch) My life is just a metaphor, evolving as I´m passing through kaleidoscopes of open doors, where rhyme and reason rendezvous. Roles of the past allegorically cast, exposing emotions in traces of truth. I stray away from similies, they´re like a common noun, quite easy to fit in somewhere but seldom as profound. I take the time to look around. Ch) My life is just a metaphor, evolving as I´m passing through kaleidoscopes of open doors, where rhyme and reason rendezvous. Roles of the past allegorically cast, exposing emotions in traces of truth. Br) The art of self-embellishment, necessity indeed, when I´m bored or been ignored I feel the strongest need. I don´t know where my candor went with inhibitions freed, perhaps behind a state of mind that tilts to some degree. Ch) My life is just a metaphor, evolving as I´m passing through kaleidoscopes of open doors, where rhyme and reason rendezvous. Roles of the past allegorically cast, exposing emotions in traces of truth. deeptrope@icloud.com
  10. Deeptrope

    Don't Wanna Be A Star

    The simplest, most plentiful element that fuels stars.
  11. Deeptrope

    Don't Wanna Be A Star

    © 2018 John Heavern 29 S-10/06/18, Don't Wanna Be A Star Favored dreams of youth furthest from the truths reality revealed. Had to get a grip, quit my treasure ship, despite it's bright appeal. Ch) Don't wanna be a star, just a critical element, nothing too bizarre, just a dreamer to supplement a comet on it's way to brighten up some eyes again. ` Don't wanna be a star, just wanna be the hydrogen. Br1) Feed me the music, I'll spit out a line, use it, contuse it to make it all shine. Crouched in the shadows, I'm honing my tools, mixing my pathos to musical fuel. Labored here and there, fate in disrepair, was daring me to dream. Had to figure out nexus to my route was deep inside of me. Br2) Who needs the groupies just hangin' around, when words coalesce into wonderful sound? Hiding good fortune, having no fame, the stars need a source supplied in my name. Ch) Don't wanna be a star, just a critical element, nothing too bizarre, just a dreamer to supplement a comet on it's way to brighten up some eyes again. ` Don't wanna be a star, just wanna be the hydrogen.
  12. © 2018 John Heavern           9

    S-12/3/12, Pillows Of Pain

     

    Complications pound a rhythm

    resounding in my head,

    a sullen tune my burst balloon

    is blasting in my bed.

    The sound of sadness straight ahead.

     

    Ch) Can't stop the rain on my pillows of pain,

    it falls from my eyes while it courses my veins.

    Smothering feelings in sheets that I stain,

    I've made my own bed under pillows of pain.

    Can't rest my head on my pillows of pain.

     

    I have always worn emotions

    directly on my sleeve,

    for all to see and sympathy

    to pacify my needs.

    A pampered ass has hollowed me.

     

    Br) Pillows of pain ending up all the same,

    my childish indulgences carry my shame.

    Got to break out of a selfish domain,

    relinquish the doubt seeding clouds in my brain.

     

    Ch) Can't stop the rain on my pillows of pain,

    it falls from my eyes while it courses my veins.

    Smothering  feelings in sheets that I stain,

    I've made my own bed under pillows of pain.

    Can't rest my head on my pillows of pain.

     

    In the wake of past fiasco's,

    I'm swimming in dissent

    within the throes of undertows

    of what became and went.

    A vicious tide of discontent.

     

    Ch) Can't stop the rain on my pillows of pain,

    it falls from my eyes while it courses my veins.

    Smothering feelings in sheets that I stain,

    I've made my own bed under pillows of pain.

    Can't rest my head on my pillows of pain.

     

     

  13. © 2013 John Heavern 8

    S-6/25/12, High Anxiety! (Panic Attack!)

     

    Driving down the road.

    Waiting to explode.

    My hand goes numb, can’t taste my tongue,

    self-destructive mode.

    Shaken to my soul.

    Losing all control.

    The air gets thin, my lights go dim,

    feeling black and cold.

     

    Ch) When my heart is pumping and my head is thumping,

    phantoms crawl on my skin with conclusions jumping.

    As my mind is racing and the body's pacing,

    there's no doubt about the attacks that I'm facing.

    High anxiety, a secret society,

    my pressure point of notoriety.

     

    Sticking to my clothes.

    Copper in my nose.

    The smell of fear is crystal clear,

    weaknesses exposed.

    Muscles feeling tense.

    Lack of cognizance.

    Inside a dream, I cannot scream,

    nothing making sense.

     

    Ch) When my heart is pumping and my head is thumping,

    phantoms crawl on my skin with conclusions jumping.

    As my mind is racing and the body's pacing,

    there's no doubt about the attacks that I'm facing.

    High anxiety, a secret society,

    my pressure point of notoriety.

     

    Spinning as I tread.

    Tingle 'round my head.

    I grind my teeth, my legs are weak,

    shaking silhouette. 

    Pounding in my brain. 

    Nitro in my veins.

    A tongue in knots, my blood is hot,

    feeling quite insane.

     

    Ch) When my heart is pumping and my head is thumping,

    phantoms crawl on my skin with conclusions jumping.

    As my mind is racing and the body's pacing,

    there's no doubt about the attacks that I'm facing.

    High anxiety, a secret society,

    my pressure point of notoriety. 

  14. © 2018 John Heavern                   4

    S-8/21/18, Technology Slaves

     

    I lost my phone the other day,

    my human contact wiped away.

    It serves me right, I misbehaved,

    I put technology at bay. 

    For what it's worth is hard to say,

    my calculator's gone astray.

     

    Ch) It seems we've been led down a stream of illusion

    to drown in a sea of our data solutions.

    The road to the future numerically paved

    from the hospital crib to the Google-mapped grave.

    The satellites tracking our movement in waves

    gives cause to concede we're technology slaves.

     

    Br) I'll go to my grave a technology slave,

    the future is written in code.

    The digital age is more than a phase,

    it's carrying personal loads.

    The data selected, summed and collected 

    will clutter serenity's road.

    I don't understand how it got out of hand,

    I must be in “Man”-ual mode!

     

    Ch) It seems we've been led down a stream of illusion

    to drown in a sea of our data solutions.

    The road to the future numerically paved

    from the hospital crib to the Google-mapped grave.

    The satellites tracking our movement in waves

    gives cause to concede we're technology slaves.

     

    "In God We Trust", a lexicon 

    not worth the wood it's printed on.

    The dollar's bill is too fargone,

    it's eminence, a hanger-on.

    Our culpability has dawned

    accountable and overdrawn.

     

    Ch) It seems we've been led down a stream of illusion

    to drown in a sea of our data solutions.

    The road to the future numerically paved

    from the hospital crib to the Google-mapped grave.

    The satellites tracking our movement in waves

    gives cause to concede we're technology slaves.

     

     

  15. © 2018 John Heavern 30

    S-8/23/12, Nightly Lightning

     

    Nightly lightning in a bottle,

    time to open up her throttle.

    Fully charged with juices flowing,

    currents lead to where I'm going.

    Stopping at her power station

    charges me with motivation.

     

    Ch) Nightly lightning, sky's the limit,

    I'm charging to her heart within it.

    She rocks and shocks my blues away,

    lights me up on stormy days.

    Nightly lightning, her grip is tightening,

    the future of our love is brightening.

     

    She keeps me close, but never smothers.

    Electrifies me like no other. 

    Radiates a fervency

    reaching deep inside of me.

    She warms my heart to such degree

    it overloads my circuitry. 

     

    Ch) Nightly lightning, sky's the limit,

    I'm charging to her heart within it.

    She rocks and shocks my blues away,

    lights me up on stormy days.

    Nightly lightning, her grip is tightening,

    the future of our love is brightening.

     

    Br) The quakes of my life were shaking me down

    ‘til the night when her light pulled me up from the ground.

    Her luminous eyes, so brilliant and true,

    when they sparkle at night, all my dreams are in view.

     

    Ch) Nightly lightning, sky's the limit,

    I'm charging to her heart within it.

    She rocks and shocks my blues away,

    lights me up on stormy days.

    Nightly lightning, her grip is tightening,

    the future of our love is brightening.

     

    deeptrope@icloud.com

×