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Play with yr fantasies, write a ballade about the VooV or Fullmoon, find magic words for beloved community, compose an ode about your favourite DJ... Let us know about YOUR OWN special magical moments - the dances? The spirit? The incredible feeling to spin? To just listen and dream? Tell us! In any language, in any form in any words! Send us your words of beauty via contactpage and join the world of Psy-Poetry! If you wanna contact the author, just write us...
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and so let it begin because...
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...some call it crazy
some unnatural
some think it’s just stupid
some just turn away
some try but will never understand
some better never try
some don’t have ears to listen
some no brain to think
a few now about the secret
the drug
the common heartbeat
the beauty
and the pain
you too are confined
forever with those shimmering ties
to our common magic
friendship
passion
and universal community
called PsyTrance
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The psychedelic days have come,
the bestest of the year
Of flailing drums, and naked bass,
and psytars all a'cheer
Heaped in the sonics of the sound,
the bassline strummed ahead
Those dancers to the eddying gust,
they find their acid head
Astrix finds the Audiotec,
the Misted Puppet plays
And from the DJ's fingertips,
all gloom is sent away.
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See with what constant motion
Bizarre, psychedelic as the sun
Mountain's decks drive those lithe frames
That gave each turn of digital domain
And swifter than the wings of fame.
Dancers beat the willing pavement
By such a stars in the firmament
Which even they envy for the beat
Swelling into ever intenses of heat
The dance always remaining incomplete.
Each step trod out a lover's thought
Of the ambitious forlon hopes we brought
Enchained such to the sonic arts
Ever rising by fits and starts
The inflaming passion of our hearts.
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Is Morlack taking us on voyage down memory lane?
Or is it instead of trip of getting psychedelic insane
that past melds with present, future to be
swirling and twisting, reaching out there for thee
grabbing horizon edges of reality,
twisting, swirling, still undoing me
until universe becomes a tie-die fabric
against which and on which with a hatrick
emotion, thought, feeling and premise,
conclusion, birth, death not to be remissed
sway to and fro, forward and back,
attaining a transcendency within no lack
shapes the very essence of future and fate
inflaming dreams are what we do trade
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Irish Komotoze liked the psy
He liked it so much he could cry
Then he heard Shoomy's mix
He then had his fix
So good he thought he could fly
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Mushrooms, music,
forest and lights
We all get together
To dance through the nights
In altered states,
of magic and wisdom
we all smile and dance
to the queens of the kingdom!
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Psy angel
Woman of my dreams
Hemp sandaled
There is none like you among the dancers
None with such deft fingers.
I have not found you in the tents
In the broken darkness
I have not found you in the crowd
Among the women with glowsticks.
Your arms are as a young sapling under the bark
Your face as a river with psychedelic lights.
You guard the decks
Watching carefully
Bringing the gift
Of the psytar.
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DJ Mountain and Fair Deccie
Spun all day on a hill
When day had come and the moon had set
They had not even spun their fill.
DJ Mountain spun a track in twain
Fair Deccie observ'd it well
"I've never seen a mix thus mixed
In music he does excel!"
"Give to me a deck or two
With which to ply my trade"
Said DJ Mountain to Fair Deccie
And then he did serenade.
And psy fans far an' wide
Gathered all round the hill
To hear the tunes that Mountain spun
It was no Barber of Seville.
No Mozart nor Willie Nelson
Were issued from those decks
It was something else, something new
Someting much more complex.
DJ Mountain and Fair Deccie
Spun all day on a hill
Psychedelics played loud and hard
The dance of all good will.
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A little love, of psychedelic music go
And then we go, what matters it? Since where
Or when, or how, none may a priori know
Nor if love comes or goes, or lingering slow
Send on ahead the herald of psy love.
On this gray life, love lights with silvery glow
Refracted from music's source, the wings winged slow
Its glory surrounds us, and DeCibelle's music bestow
A little love!
A little, it's as much as we may bear
For Deccie's love is compassed with such magic air
She breathes it fully and selflessly so
The fans all but taste that overflow
For little lives, the minor dose she can spare
A little love!
On this bright horizon, she alights with wings fair
Gossamer being she is, with golden blonde hair
Psychedelic treats she shares them all fair
A little love!
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definitely a more full-power set here by mountain
energies steadily building
pulling towards the dancefloor i leave the fountain
cosmic psy-DJ weilding
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We're called aliens, we are told,
Because our wayward visions stray
From that old method they unfold
The dreams of forgotten yesterday.
The sound of all the past is theirs,
The anthems and breaks, their claim to fame
Whose Goa sounds made glory flares
Sparks the sound of psychedelic flame.
They weave the necromancer’s spell
Spicy sounds from where the past has slept
Their ancient story to retell
Remembered sounds that dancers wept.
Old sounds re-sound anew to emerge
This worship of an ancient fire
In which we drift beyond the verge
The trippy voyage going ever higher.
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Where is the flower, the fair young Deccie, that lately sprang and stood
In brighter lights and softer airs, a beauteous sisterhood?
Ah, she is here, sprightly, fair, herself a gentle blossom
And psytars she brings us all, edgy, sharp, and awesome
The rain recedes, its bowing, its curtseying away
It knows to not be welcome here, Deccie has come to stay.
The wind-flower and the violet, they can't hold a candle
To DeCibelle's sweet countenance; nor music of Handel
Can hold sway to psychedelics, she brings them openly
Jumpy, bouncy, bassy tuneage, fears goes disarmingly
Sweet lovely flower she remains, mixing tunes aplenty
A favorite among hippies, fans, and cognoscenti.
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