a time of dance, a change of era. a moment to escape all of the world views and create a culture of their own. a culture to relate to and to begin to find the bridge to end a gap of seperation and inturn create something of their own.
eque, ekey, ekkey fresh, goes the discotheque. wacko! coke! blow! raining! sky! whow! hot hot hot! i wish you could see all this blow ma, its like a… disco…
Don’t make me give into you.
You spin with color You burst with light you scare me but then fill me with delight you are poison of the night darn you disco you crimson light.
You glow with music you float with shine i don’t like you but still wish you were mine youre as sneaky as a dime you pearlescent paradigm .
Why am i tempted by your haunting glow.
Why am i trapped by your color show.
Don’t look at me with those spinning eyes because of you im paralyzed.
Lights flashed across her face as he leaned her close to the floor. “Hide here,” he told her. The smell of hippies filled her nose, the kind of smell that tells you that no one has used deodorant in a while. He slipped away into the darkness, and the pulsating bodies around her didn’t seem to notice his absence.
Brings me back to the 70th and a date for Saturday night fever and getting a nice white shell ring from David. And the adult education class I took in disco and watching my feet as I did it. It seemed so easy to everyone else and being in the class with others who didn’t think it was so easy was a relief.
Disco is the embodiment of the character of a generation. Flamboyance and lack of image-concern ran rampant through the time, and disco is the perfect action of the period’s inhabitants to reflect this. I can’t say that I don’t envy the population of the time period, image is everything in modern times.
It was the era of afros and bell bottom jeans and the boots with the fur. All the people were at the disco, shaking their butts and I cannot lie, they were big.
disco, discoteca. disco compacto…La septima se llamaba el lugar donde ellos se conocieron. Era un disco en Jalapa conectado a un club que se llamaba la octava. Era el lugar donde ellos se bailaban juntos a canciones ridiculos con sexualidad cachete con cachete ombligo con ombligo y lo de mas el se llamaba Raul.
its a sorry sight to see a party end without you. i locked myself in the bathroom on accident and i couldnt do anything when i heard the police arrive.
now im out of the bathroom. kicked a disco ball that got knocked to the floor and looked around to see the remains of a good time turned timely getaway.
so im alone again. at least the police are gone too.
Don’t make me give into you. You spin with color u burst with light you scare me but then fill me with delight you are poison of the night darn you disco you crimson light. You glow with music you float with shine i don’t like you but still wish that you were mine you are sneaky you pearlescent dime.Why am i tempted by your haunting glow. Why am paralyzed by my your color show. Don’t look at me with those spinning eyes because of you im paralyzed.
What am i looking for. Can i find it in the brown mans eyes or look it up in the deep blue sky’s. I look to you to answer the question of my sole. And to you i ask my origin goal. I need something but i don’t know what. Can i find it in the hands of the man who claims to be my friend or the brown mans eyes or the deep blue sky’s. Or maybe ill just wait. Till the brown man opens up the gate.
Stuck with a lighter and the laser-potent edge I call my mind, I write like an escalator catching candy in it’s rotational grind. Meanwhile, in red style, she grinds the coffee, an electric shredding spree. Her smile, half a gram of weary and half a gram of glee. Take those those grams and begin resembling, the moon and the stars trapped in their darker than dark blue sea. Don’t let that blue aspect of logic block that creativity, riveting, jets drawing my eyes to spatial north, to the cosmos’s candyland, a milkyway of dreams and stars and humans inbetween. Between you and me. Just duly. I love you truly. Let me trace your magnetic skeleton with electricity. I see your heart in your heart socket, Let me pull it out and take a secondary, contemporary update on your vitals. Flat. Beeeeeeeeeeeeeep. Charging. ZINNNNNG. There goes my fingers racing up along your spine like floating electricity electrifying your body’s water and flushing the evaporation straight into your lungs, until you breathe air in but breathe me out. Trace my dick along your clit, draw out the lightning pleasure. I’m catching fire while you’re catching electricity.
Stuck with a lighter and the laser-potent edge I call my mind, I write like an escalator catching candy in it’s rotational grind. Meanwhile, in red style, she grinds the coffee, an electric shredding spree. Her smile, half a gram of weary and half a gram of glee. Take those those grams and begin remembing, the moon and the stars trapped in their darker than dark blue sea. Don’t let that blue aspect of logic block that creativity, riveting, jets drawing my eyes to spatial north, to the cosmos’s candyland, a milkyway of dreams and stars and humans inbetween. Between you and me. Just duly. I love you truly. Let me trace your magnetic skeleton with electricity. I see your heart in your heart socket, Let me pull it out and take a secondary, contemporary update on your vitals. Flat. Beeeeeeeeeeeeeep. Charging. ZINNNNNG. There goes my fingers racing up along your spine like floating electricity electrifying your body’s water and flushing the evaporation straight into your lungs, until you breathe air and breathe me out. Trace my dick along your clit, draw out the lightning pleasure. I’m catching fire. But you’re catching electricity.
disco dancing lady. crazy wild hips slicing the night air. her drink held firmly in hand as barry gibb’s voice croons above her. she knows where the party is at, but doesn’t feel she wants to be there at all.
I refused t attend each and every one of my high school days disco’s. And I used to regret it but now I do not, for they are for friends and if I do not enjoy the breaks when I pretend that my phone has not run out of battery, then why would I enjoy the evenings?
Wouldn’t you know it? Tonight is the night. Chug down a few drinks at the bar and hope there’s nothing fizzy floating at the bottom of your glass before slithering out to the dance floor, where sweaty bodies grind against each other in hopes that, at their current level of intoxication, the world will seem just a bit brighter and less like the drudge they experience at their seven to five jobs everyday.
So this one time my friends and I went to germany and danced the night away, I could have sworn there were things moving the in cornfields that night. I drank so much beer, but Lisa was far worse off and she actually ran into the cornfield and puked like a boss. It was her birthday, so we forgave her for getting out of hand, but I can’t get the memory of the stalks swinging in the wind out of my head. There was something truly eerie about that night.
I went to a disco one time
i met this guy
he was my true love
turns out i was meant to be in 20014
but i was in the 1900s
its crazy right
i would much rather be in the 1020s
Disco is a place that you go to have a ball with your friends or your date. It’s this massive dance and music club where you’re permitted to daze out of the “real” world for a few hours.
When I think ‘disco’, I think big hair, tight pants, sequins and chest hair. Is there any form of dance that feels more dated? Perhaps being an 80’s baby has influenced me. I suppose it will seem odd to older generations my phase of 90’s R&B and girl rappers. My half-tops, open plaid shirts, matte burgundy lipstick and two strands of bangs on either side of my face.
Sometimes I wish things like this didn’t “die,” you know? Like – I wish they just got all gathered up into a single place, where everyone could go – for free, for easy, for all time – if they wanted them back. Where’s Reg? Dude. He’s over in Disco. Yeah yeah.
The word used to mean fun, exciting, a night out with friends. Now when she hears the word disco it brings back haunting memories from the past and reminds her that the one she loves most wont be in her future. This word haunts her as the memories dance around her head of what used to be.
It sparkled above the dance floor like a beacon of hope, shimmering as it fragmented the light that dared come in contact with it. People writhed beneath its beauty, it held court over the entire room. It was all knowing, it saw everything that went on beneath its dazzling shine.
those were the days, my friend. even if you didn’t know how to dance, you put on some stacked heels, an acetate shirt, some bell-bottoms and hit the floor. yikes! thank god it didn’t last long.
Our lips tasted of well whiskey. The room was thick from smoke and sweat from in between our frictioned bodies. Your hand leveled from my nape to the small of my back and I swear my heart stopped. The light was blurry, but there we were. Right underneath the disco ball.
no matter how many names they had been through in the baby name books, he kept insisting “DISCO!” – in the end, Disco did not win – good thing for baby!
Disco Disco Queen. Hmm that was from another time and era. Dance styles change, music styles change but the desire to be in the in-crowd and enjoy the happening things remain the same.
The disco ball hung above us, cold and metallic, spinning slowly and serenely over the sea of chaotic and sexual dancing going on far below it. The lights which careened off its mirrored surfaces neglected the dark places but the spherical moon itself saw me in the shadows.
a time of dance, a change of era. a moment to escape all of the world views and create a culture of their own. a culture to relate to and to begin to find the bridge to end a gap of seperation and inturn create something of their own.
A disco ball fell on me. And it wasn’t pretty.
in mist of the crowd room
sweaty and filthy
the smell of alcohol
clogging your nose
the disco ball swirls in the air
sending sprayed shards of light
swirling dizzily
light flashing
finally exploding
in your mind
eque, ekey, ekkey fresh, goes the discotheque. wacko! coke! blow! raining! sky! whow! hot hot hot! i wish you could see all this blow ma, its like a… disco…
in here its like me and you
Don’t make me give into you.
You spin with color You burst with light you scare me but then fill me with delight you are poison of the night darn you disco you crimson light.
You glow with music you float with shine i don’t like you but still wish you were mine youre as sneaky as a dime you pearlescent paradigm .
Why am i tempted by your haunting glow.
Why am i trapped by your color show.
Don’t look at me with those spinning eyes because of you im paralyzed.
Silence to the disco queen watch her slowly approach the seen watch her closer then you’ll see. Silence silence! and watch the screen.
Silence to the disco queen watch her slowly approach the seen watch her closer then you’ll see. Silence to the disco queen.
Lights flashed across her face as he leaned her close to the floor. “Hide here,” he told her. The smell of hippies filled her nose, the kind of smell that tells you that no one has used deodorant in a while. He slipped away into the darkness, and the pulsating bodies around her didn’t seem to notice his absence.
Brings me back to the 70th and a date for Saturday night fever and getting a nice white shell ring from David. And the adult education class I took in disco and watching my feet as I did it. It seemed so easy to everyone else and being in the class with others who didn’t think it was so easy was a relief.
Disco is the embodiment of the character of a generation. Flamboyance and lack of image-concern ran rampant through the time, and disco is the perfect action of the period’s inhabitants to reflect this. I can’t say that I don’t envy the population of the time period, image is everything in modern times.
It was the era of afros and bell bottom jeans and the boots with the fur. All the people were at the disco, shaking their butts and I cannot lie, they were big.
disco, discoteca. disco compacto…La septima se llamaba el lugar donde ellos se conocieron. Era un disco en Jalapa conectado a un club que se llamaba la octava. Era el lugar donde ellos se bailaban juntos a canciones ridiculos con sexualidad cachete con cachete ombligo con ombligo y lo de mas el se llamaba Raul.
its a sorry sight to see a party end without you. i locked myself in the bathroom on accident and i couldnt do anything when i heard the police arrive.
now im out of the bathroom. kicked a disco ball that got knocked to the floor and looked around to see the remains of a good time turned timely getaway.
so im alone again. at least the police are gone too.
Don’t make me give into you. You spin with color u burst with light you scare me but then fill me with delight you are poison of the night darn you disco you crimson light. You glow with music you float with shine i don’t like you but still wish that you were mine you are sneaky you pearlescent dime.Why am i tempted by your haunting glow. Why am paralyzed by my your color show. Don’t look at me with those spinning eyes because of you im paralyzed.
We danced the night away under the sparkly disco ball. It was our16th year anniversary and we were celebrating
What am i looking for. Can i find it in the brown mans eyes or look it up in the deep blue sky’s. I look to you to answer the question of my sole. And to you i ask my origin goal. I need something but i don’t know what. Can i find it in the hands of the man who claims to be my friend or the brown mans eyes or the deep blue sky’s. Or maybe ill just wait. Till the brown man opens up the gate.
I was at the party when she looked at me with the most peculiar expression i had ever seen and i smile at her but she keep the same strange stare.
beaming & other induced thoughts
Stuck with a lighter and the laser-potent edge I call my mind, I write like an escalator catching candy in it’s rotational grind. Meanwhile, in red style, she grinds the coffee, an electric shredding spree. Her smile, half a gram of weary and half a gram of glee. Take those those grams and begin resembling, the moon and the stars trapped in their darker than dark blue sea. Don’t let that blue aspect of logic block that creativity, riveting, jets drawing my eyes to spatial north, to the cosmos’s candyland, a milkyway of dreams and stars and humans inbetween. Between you and me. Just duly. I love you truly. Let me trace your magnetic skeleton with electricity. I see your heart in your heart socket, Let me pull it out and take a secondary, contemporary update on your vitals. Flat. Beeeeeeeeeeeeeep. Charging. ZINNNNNG. There goes my fingers racing up along your spine like floating electricity electrifying your body’s water and flushing the evaporation straight into your lungs, until you breathe air in but breathe me out. Trace my dick along your clit, draw out the lightning pleasure. I’m catching fire while you’re catching electricity.
beaming & other induced thoughts
Stuck with a lighter and the laser-potent edge I call my mind, I write like an escalator catching candy in it’s rotational grind. Meanwhile, in red style, she grinds the coffee, an electric shredding spree. Her smile, half a gram of weary and half a gram of glee. Take those those grams and begin remembing, the moon and the stars trapped in their darker than dark blue sea. Don’t let that blue aspect of logic block that creativity, riveting, jets drawing my eyes to spatial north, to the cosmos’s candyland, a milkyway of dreams and stars and humans inbetween. Between you and me. Just duly. I love you truly. Let me trace your magnetic skeleton with electricity. I see your heart in your heart socket, Let me pull it out and take a secondary, contemporary update on your vitals. Flat. Beeeeeeeeeeeeeep. Charging. ZINNNNNG. There goes my fingers racing up along your spine like floating electricity electrifying your body’s water and flushing the evaporation straight into your lungs, until you breathe air and breathe me out. Trace my dick along your clit, draw out the lightning pleasure. I’m catching fire. But you’re catching electricity.
discoes are happy but i’m not.
BECAUSE I HAD A CRUSH.
BUT THAT CRUSH DOESN’T LIKE ME BACK.
this has been a brief account on the love life of a fifteen year old lesbian.
disco dancing lady. crazy wild hips slicing the night air. her drink held firmly in hand as barry gibb’s voice croons above her. she knows where the party is at, but doesn’t feel she wants to be there at all.
I refused t attend each and every one of my high school days disco’s. And I used to regret it but now I do not, for they are for friends and if I do not enjoy the breaks when I pretend that my phone has not run out of battery, then why would I enjoy the evenings?
Wouldn’t you know it? Tonight is the night. Chug down a few drinks at the bar and hope there’s nothing fizzy floating at the bottom of your glass before slithering out to the dance floor, where sweaty bodies grind against each other in hopes that, at their current level of intoxication, the world will seem just a bit brighter and less like the drudge they experience at their seven to five jobs everyday.
So this one time my friends and I went to germany and danced the night away, I could have sworn there were things moving the in cornfields that night. I drank so much beer, but Lisa was far worse off and she actually ran into the cornfield and puked like a boss. It was her birthday, so we forgave her for getting out of hand, but I can’t get the memory of the stalks swinging in the wind out of my head. There was something truly eerie about that night.
I went to a disco one time
i met this guy
he was my true love
turns out i was meant to be in 20014
but i was in the 1900s
its crazy right
i would much rather be in the 1020s
Disco is a place that you go to have a ball with your friends or your date. It’s this massive dance and music club where you’re permitted to daze out of the “real” world for a few hours.
When I think ‘disco’, I think big hair, tight pants, sequins and chest hair. Is there any form of dance that feels more dated? Perhaps being an 80’s baby has influenced me. I suppose it will seem odd to older generations my phase of 90’s R&B and girl rappers. My half-tops, open plaid shirts, matte burgundy lipstick and two strands of bangs on either side of my face.
Let’s have some fun this beat is sick, I wanna take a ride on your disco stick.
Sometimes I wish things like this didn’t “die,” you know? Like – I wish they just got all gathered up into a single place, where everyone could go – for free, for easy, for all time – if they wanted them back. Where’s Reg? Dude. He’s over in Disco. Yeah yeah.
no no no
I won’t write about disco
The word used to mean fun, exciting, a night out with friends. Now when she hears the word disco it brings back haunting memories from the past and reminds her that the one she loves most wont be in her future. This word haunts her as the memories dance around her head of what used to be.
The lights, flared and bright like the outside of a disco ball, were more than enough to illuminate the once inky darkness of the club’s interior.
It sparkled above the dance floor like a beacon of hope, shimmering as it fragmented the light that dared come in contact with it. People writhed beneath its beauty, it held court over the entire room. It was all knowing, it saw everything that went on beneath its dazzling shine.
those were the days, my friend. even if you didn’t know how to dance, you put on some stacked heels, an acetate shirt, some bell-bottoms and hit the floor. yikes! thank god it didn’t last long.
We are going to dance all night long.
Dance and dance again as if we were
lonely, wild petals of carnations,
of lilies, of daisies, of roses.
Moving and waving goodbye
upon a tremendous and violent sky.
We dance through night and day;
taking rhythmic breaths between death and life.
“Disco? You still listen to disco music?”
“Hey, no judgment,” growled Hank. “You know how I am about frivolous judgment.”
Sally waved off the comments like brushing away aggressive houseflies. “I’m just saying, it ain’t the nineteen seventies anymore. C’mon.”
“Are you serious?” Hannah jumped in. “This straight from the mouth of the Pink Floyd fan?”
“Dark Side of the Moon is the greatest album of all time. You cannot compare that to freaking disco!”
Our lips tasted of well whiskey. The room was thick from smoke and sweat from in between our frictioned bodies. Your hand leveled from my nape to the small of my back and I swear my heart stopped. The light was blurry, but there we were. Right underneath the disco ball.
no matter how many names they had been through in the baby name books, he kept insisting “DISCO!” – in the end, Disco did not win – good thing for baby!
Disco Disco Queen. Hmm that was from another time and era. Dance styles change, music styles change but the desire to be in the in-crowd and enjoy the happening things remain the same.
The disco ball hung above us, cold and metallic, spinning slowly and serenely over the sea of chaotic and sexual dancing going on far below it. The lights which careened off its mirrored surfaces neglected the dark places but the spherical moon itself saw me in the shadows.