Froggacuda's Weblog

I am trying to find god in my basement.
In my own house (well, that I rent) –
To tell you the truth, it’s money well spent –
But in this wash of club fog,
These hyperkinetic lights,
This irrepressible sugar pop sound,
It swears to me that life is sweet.
Maybe only in moments like these.
But in certain spiritual lyric coincidences
I detect some karmic, cosmic communication .
A certain wink from the vertigo;
A nudge in the ribs from my madonna.
Ridicule from the turntables
For not expressing myself and my soundtrack
Every moment I breathe.
Is it prayer to spin records
And cry out when the experience hits you?
Or is that reserved for holier orgasms?
King of my kingdom,
Finding that I am god
In my basement.