Uncategorized

LISTEN TO THE VIMA TRESNA ON REVERB NATION!

Hey. It’s me. P.E.T. Trying out this Reverb Nation site to host my homeless music, because Soundcloud is a shitshow/clusterfuk, and Spotify will only host an artist that’s is vetted, so to speak, by their “editorial” committee, or “ministry,of culture”, or whatever—anyway, if you’re starved for some of that untouched, home-recorded (i.e. free-range), rock-hard-heartbroke, LSD-25 strength, um, jams…stop by? See ya around.

Thanks.

P.E. Tottenham

Gemini ♊️/down by law

— Read on www.reverbnation.com/control_room/artist/6224805/songs

THE VIMA TRESNA

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“GULL POND”

“THE BLUE CURTAIN” (EXCLUSIVE DOWNLOAD)

“AS YOU WERE”

(P.E. Tottenham looking all distracted in his haunted, vermin-infested apartment in rural Massachusetts.)
(P.E. Tottenham keepin’ down by law in his haunted, vermin-infested apartment in rural Massachusetts wishing right about now he could just end it all, because he’s so deep inside his own head lately that he usually just sleeps up inside the Google search window next to that blinking cursor. It’s late September and in New England, and the temperature’s dropping. Social media is infested with sociopathic gamer, crypto-fascists. So be careful who you follow out there. And to all you selfish, entitled, spoiled white trash hillbillies: #meme does not equalize you’re compulsion for bigotry.)

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(…and other golden money shots!)

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Poetry, Uncategorized

“The Black Hammer”

by

P.E. Tottenham

Looking for a special grave
near the center of town.
There was never a fountain &
No symbols were found…

Boston’s blue
Alachua grey
Torn at the seams
And turned away, so:

Rose:
Shaved!
Fucked!
Dranked!
Smoked!

Joined up at six with
The Crystal Spick
(nee
Neamathla James Veracruz)

Got Isaac Saul Shelaylay:
(obsessed with English grammar)
Black Jew, Black Irish, and Crystal Spick
Enter the Black Hammer

And auto away
From Entropy,
Aunt Chunowa,
O, Dear Aunt Tippi…

They think:
Too much style in Subaru
But I-95
Brings the Cold North to you

Heater Core blows
Washington, DC
Crystal Spick bewares
To the Black’s reddened nose:

“Gone Heater Core’s naught
But debut of an hysteria
This auto dies slo
In the Tri-State Area…”

There’s fire in the ground
From Pennsylvania coal
So we burn down New Jersey
And it’s Pine Barren Soul

Money moves out for the gift
Of Natural Light,
Cigarettes, roman candles,
And M-80s stun the night

O, Boston, Cape Cod,
Them islands somewhere
O, why are we always
Escaping up here

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©2017 P.E. Tottenham/Teagown

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Poetry

“And Perfume Precedes the Dead Letter”

by


P.E. Tottenham


The moon becomes large

Two people fall in love

As another one weeps

Pantomime in Cumaquid


The girl’s lilting voice

Could she reappear?

Red sunsets behind

Driven through a dark cloud


Car is womb warm

Perfectly detailed

Metal Orange Flake

High-Gloss blood pounds ear


Accidents in cars

Children’s faces blur

That angel at your side

Books left unfinished


The bed will not be made

I stare at the door
The highway past your house

Like a wave that never crashes


As you know you’ve always drowned:


(In Robinwood Pond)

©2017 teagown

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