Blood Moon

The Moon gives you light and grants you all your indulgences

Never scolding your sins

But the Sun, he is not as forgiving

Repent, rinse, and repeat

The High Priestess

Call upon the terabyte philosophers for aid,

they will know what to do

Getting high on RAM don’t get overstimulated

It’s all temporary


A grocery store full of wax fruit is what we desire

I would kill for some grapes


We’ll all rust before we wrinkle if we can help it

It’s all temporary


The plastic bottle I used to help me breath,

will become the king of the earth

I’m glad I’m biodegradable


I make my way back home after all the pale riders have gone to bed

This is my time.

Highbeam dreams threaten to close my eyes before my trip is through

This is my time.

I wonder if the president knows that the United States gets this dark at night

This is my time

Hairpin turns and solitary acceleration have brought me back to Jericho

This is my time

Will her walls fall for me tonight?   


Subway Toast

This is one goes out to the friends,

who help me penetrate the walls with my voice

from pain, joy, or otherwise

To the ones who stare at the shower drain,

wondering how clean they have to be

to feel the warmth of someone else

This one goes out to the bottles,

who didn’t take it personally

when I threw them against the wall

To the Saints of Sound,

who save us every night

from self-inflicted crucifixion

This one goes out to the fighters,

Who work the midnight shift,

so their bones ache instead of their stomach

To the sun who will bless us with vitamin D,

so we can be what we want to be.

Keyboard Death Threat

Enough of the toxic cesspool of opinions

Enough of the narcissistic echochamber

Enough of the keyboard death threats

Enough of the marketing surveillance

Enough of the self-congratulatory social activism

Enough of the self-esteem roller coasters

Enough of the depression inducing memes

Enough of the misinformed witch hunts

Enough of the humble bragging

Enough of the disconnect from the organic

I was just here for the cute dog pictures,

not all of this

Ocular Trauma

What if all the mirrors have been lying to us?

They conspired for our destruction via vulnerable self-esteem

What if they need to be adored like the image they reflect?

They feed off our own vanity

What if the reflection was our own creation?

They’re just brutally honest

What if that’s not me in there?

Of course it is. Take responsibility for your own transgressions.

Why is it bad luck to break a mirror?

Because a broken mirror is really hard to shave with

Slayer and Me

IMG_0822As I currently write this it is cold, the Philadelphia Eagles are going to the Super Bowl, and Slayer is calling it quits. Now if you know me well you know which of these things matters the most to me. The shock of the Eagles beating the Vikings 38-7 has worn off, and I don’t really mind the cold. For those of you who don’t know me, Slayer takes precedence at the moment. Earlier this week, the California thrashers have announced that they are planning a farewell tour. They announced this tour in a brief hellish video, profiling their incredible 37 year career. This run includes both a North American and World tour. On this tour they will be bringing Lamb of God, Behemoth, Anthrax, and Testament along for the ride.

I was introduced to Slayer around the age of 12 when I had exhausted all the classic rock from my system (or so I thought). My older sister’s friends listened to metal and even played in a band together. I was introduced to bands like Metallica, Slipknot, and Lamb of God. At the same time a lot of my friends and peers were also into metal; meeting new friends just by wearing a Metallica t-shirt. I was what I like to call a metal sponge; absorbing all I could of these bands that were old but new to me. A binder of CDs was eventually passed down to me. I downloaded gigabytes of metal at a time, sometimes dedicating hours to the process of transferring music from friends CDs. Dark and macabre music that I never heard before. This was the moment I was dragged down to Hell and introduced to Slayer. Jeff Hanneman and Kerry King had a guitar partnership that could never be matched in ever. Tom Araya and Dave Lombardo provided the galloping horse for these shredding guitars to ride on. It was ripping, disgusting, and morbid. Araya’s demonic vocals told apocalyptic premonitions, fables of inferno, and tales from Nazi gas chambers. It was something I could never conjure in my worst nightmares. It was breathtaking. Eventually I would collect my own CDs, copying them onto my own PC’s hard drive and lending out to friends. Since then you can find me screaming “SLAYER!” wherever I go.

I’m almost embarrassed to mention how late it had taken me to see Slayer live. I was told Slayer was a captivating force and I finally saw them in 2012 on the Mayhem Festival circuit. My high school career consisted of times anticipating Mayhem Festival and the day of Mayhem Festival. It came around the country each summer and metalheads would converge onto the then Susquehanna Bank Center for a day of sweat, mosh pits, and metal. It was a great way for a metal sponge like me to take in as much new and old music as possible. Smaller bands would play during the day each having about a half hour set to tear it up. The evening was for more popular mainstream groups to take the main stage. I was very excited to see Slayer headlining the festival. Although I would be seeing them from a distance, it was still a fun time to throw down in the field. Slayer played their set at dusk. Their stage was simple and straight to the point. Their Marshall stacks behind them were in the shape of inverted crosses. They came at you with the Noise, like you hearing it for the first time. The sky fading to black made the mosh pit pandemonium that much more exciting. But the special moment of that day of that day was hearing the opening riff of South of Heaven I stared up at the Moon. It had just enough cloud cover to match the eerie atmosphere the song provided. It was truly a captivating moment in metal for me.

Since then I have seen Slayer a total of 3 times. Each show had its own stunning moments and positive vibes I shared with great friends of every gender, color, and sexual orientation. When I found out Slayer was calling it quits I was happy. I was happy that I was fortunate enough to see this band enough times and live in a time where I could consume as much Slayer media as I could. I’m also happy that these guys are ending their very successful career now. With bands like Motley Crue and Black Sabbath, they will end how they started: on stage. They have been a band for 37 years with members phasing in and out. Since the start they have stayed true to their gut wrenching sound and no fucks given attitude. When other bands were changing their sound with the times, they were able to stay unchanged and relevant. Slayer will hold a legacy in metal for all time. Anytime you hear a fan scream “SLAYER!”, a demon gets its wings. If that’s not metal, I don’t know what is. 

** Thank you for taking the time to read this. You can follow me on Instagram and Twitter for updates on posts. My Instagram is @soundchefofficial and Twitter is @soundchef. You can also find my movie podcast at **


The buttons big and small are polished for glory,

waiting for the megalomania to commence

Guided missiles awaken Gabriel for his song

His song can be heard in Philadelphia and Pyongyang

By men of the alley, carrying their cardboard crosses

crying “ Novus Ordo Seclorum”


The redwood trees will outlast this troubled empire,

waiting for Mother Nature to reclaim what’s hers

Wall Street invests in their own survival,

mars is waiting for their conquest

If I bury my melodies in the ground,

will they dig them up as artifacts?


While under the shade of palm trees America panics,

waiting for the rockets to fire

A false alarm will help you realize,

how much of a shithole your country really is

It makes you think about things,

and who you love   


Wurlitzer Punishment

The sun is unbearable and awkward,

my pockets are empty

Not because my bar tab was high,

or my wages are low

But because of  my heavy debt to the jukebox


You can’t sweet talk her into playing,

she only takes cash

I play the same song every time,

in hopes that you can hear it,

All the way up in your tower


But you weren’t up there tonight,

you were out, forgetting my name

The only way you can


I wish I could do the same

But I’m more likely to stab myself in the back,

than admit I miss you


There isn’t any amount of chains

Or whipping posts that can hurt us


There isn’t any amount of small wages

Or long hours that will starve us

There isn’t any amount of burnt pages

Or broken glass that can stop us


There isn’t any amount of voting laws

Or wage gaps that can silence us


There isn’t any amount of Jim Crow

Or burning crosses that can scare us


There isn’t any amount of draft cards

Or machine guns that can change us


There isn’t any amount of privatized prisons

Or racist cops that can cage us


There isn’t any amount of hateful churches

Or Kim Davis’es that can judge us


There isn’t any amount of predatory presidents

Or Richard Spencer’s that can kill us


There isn’t anything that can end us. Nothing.
If I can’t dance, I don’t want to be a part of your revolution” – Emma Goldman