TOPIC: being a turntable
WORD: nightchild
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please read both then vote for your fav with your winner's name in subject line
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(muddywaters will be deducted 1 point for being a day later than ToeJam, who was also late with his late ass!)
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MUDDYWATERS:

a new year is rising, i reflect on my past and
realize i'm so different from i was crafted
a vampire bastard, forever living beyond
the one who created me at my lifes dawn
motion clockwise, move forward like timelines
native language heard, at thirty-three and a third
was fed sounds naturally, regurgitated them static-ly
having no options, i knew progress would come gradually
i met music and for the record she was multi-layered
cats came to know me as an automatic player
cause it seemed like i played her, on the surface
but underneath, i was just a tool for her purpose
times change, she switched styles, i switched appearances
i played her, she used me, but here’s the differences
masterful classical, spiritual miracle, razzmatazz jazz, lower-class bluegrass
afro junk funk, honkey-tonk country, uncontrolled rock n roll, and slave stroll soul
if a party went down i was around and crowned
essential, without me your shit’s a ghost town
made asses shake from short skirts to evening gowns
figured one day music and me would settle down
our progress reversed, i would scratch her with diamonds
or speed up her pace and fuck up her timing
looking back now, we both did wrong
what doesn’t kill you only makes you strong
the year is at the bottom of the inning, i'm spinning wild
a night child, restyled my baby to move the night crowd
the next three hundred and sixty five dawns
i hope music doesn’t mind me keeping her under my right arm

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TOE JAM:

I dance w/ the most minute of seismic vibrations
thru my analogue catalogue if you exercise patience
I am magnetically connected to the earth’s poles
capturing hurt souls
recognizing that they’re worth gold
from the first sold, when they didn’t know the half
He changed the world son, yr Grandfather Phonograph
w/ a crank and shaft
he stirred a peoples revolution per minute
I miss his old voice, and the cracks that were in it
He taught us to listen, and to discern labels
many nights could’ve turned fatal
for your daddy turntable
But, son,
I A.C. adapted
then I started shooting up on wax
…just like gangsta rap did
I be feenin’, scratching thru the night child
searchin’ for that next hit,
to give my stylus a nice style
slide off my sleeve, belt tight, insert my needle
the voices curl themselves up my ears and in the fetal
Pumpin thru the mainline
‘til my RCA veins climb
my arm, but I’ll never hawk the diamond at the end
We went from gramophone to methadone to my son who’d rather blend
A C.D. than the wax the has left tracks up and down yr fathers limbs
you just don’t want to end up like him, sinning then singing the hymns
w/ two black circles beneath my spinning eyes
and both of us skip from time to time
Our family has been built upon an evolution
of intelligent designs known as electric music
that will turn the tables once more,
so feel free to explore
but don't think of Pops as a junkie
It's like pop music derived from poppies
I just like to get faded from time to time
but the blend is never sloppy
I never overdose and leave a crowd comatose
maybe someday, son, you'll come close
and though our family's past might be checkered
you ain't never gonna break my record...