Poison Slower Downer

Poison Slower Downer




Bill was killing drums one night at one of his ex-band's show when he met Jarad, a guitar player who was just a spectator. They struck up a conversation, Bill invited Jarad to jam some day, Jarad declined...because he was afraid of Bill. In the coming weeks, Bill persisted and Jarad caved. The following evening was a loud mixture of breakbeats and blues, old school hardcore and screamo, drop d over kick drum cannon blasts. PSD had been formed.


poison corpse imitation

Written By: jarad b.

I filled myself with poisons
dirty lungs, eyes like oceans
I imitated a corpse in sheets too soft for me to deserve

these people cannot see
while they laugh at my defeat
how the center of my chest is treasure for the ocean floor to receive

I’m donned in blankets in varying shades of red
the morning finds me sleeping peacefully

the tide it churns me mournfully in the late midsummer’s morn
waging war until I’m old and worn and the warning is a dark haired girl
safety now is nothing but a hollow heart
the real deal is useless to the fish living in the dark

my head began pounding without my chest to do it for me
I swallowed the sea to find my sunken-self

I slid down the bank slow and serpentine
I resisted the breath which beckoned to bury me
in the midst of midnight with the light of a swollen moon to see
I became but a fable when the sand engulfed my body

sweet whispered love affair is just a ring ring ringing in my vacant ears
sour screaming love affair is twenty teeth ground to stop a murderous glare

swarm my skin and leave sun-bleached sticks

mind like a menu

Written By: jarad.b.

Mind Like a Menu

my eyes, they sit, like shallow pools atop cheekbone hills
when it rains, they run, and shatter on a jaw like jagged rocks
in this livingroom I’ve done more dying in
wrap me in a rug and bury me in the basement

my mind is a menu for the appetite of the world
but the world is just a pair of fangs
and my body’s a plush, red vein

I pass these bars with a handful of brass and crass love songs
I swoon and I taunt and I flaunt my own eyes like I rented them out
my courage is in bed with a split-lipped smile and a swollen head
every muscle held tight was fiction flexed as to fool the sight

but strength is not how many guys you fuck up
strength is not how many girls you fuck
strength is not how many guys you fuck up
strength is not how many girls you fuck

I once had a plan to even the plane with a gaping swing of my hand
five knuckles tossed to the drunken-froth filled mouths of a lineup of giants
then I’d steal some eyes on my way on through the exit
a poetic instance of justice at it’s prime
but still, I’d leave with a pungent kind of emptiness
and I found that my threats were my own heart splitting it’s seams

What have you learned? What have you earned? What have you learned? What have you earned?

The right to where that prison bar smile?
To defile hearts risen at a dare to ignite?
Or to hold tight a mind like a menu for the appetite of the world

but the world is just a pair of fangs
and my body’s a plush, red vein

ten easy

Written By: jarad.b.

Ten Easy

Tennessee saw silent storms, the deep south was a drag
so I buried my hands in bottleneck blues and buried my blues in bottles
one part to stop regretting the start
one part to start speeding up the terrible end

with shades drawn, I mouthed the words, ‘you’ve got a lot of explaining to do...’
‘You’ve got quite a bit to chew, don’t you?’

but I swear it was the witch feeding me the fire
bound by a hell hound
his jaw just a broken bar counter
creeping fear just take me here, cityscaped and cursed to hell
this is a chest, bruising itself with its beats and beyond repair

but so it goes like dynamite in the night
the colliding of an iris and the cutting of heartstrings
it goes like coming to in the daylight
regret a deep red and a black-eyed hindsight
it goes...

Where will I sleep?
When the last line’s held tight beside me and my bed is a bench under blankets of trees
Where will it lead?
If I continue to bear down on my seams and bruise up my body with bottles and whiskey

I do things it seems because they’re easy
you wicked siren, a ruthless calling, ‘drop all your things and come to me running!’
creeping fear just take me here
spare the speech...I’m familiar with the feeling

the night, it’s eye, dilates to focus in on you
you have not the choice, you haven’t the eyes to be proud
your voice is the sound of a season graveyard-bound


The (Yamaha) MD-8 sessions . (Jan.2007)

The Tascam Cassettes . (May.2007)
A song from this practice space four track recording was played on MIT's own Pipeline! radio show, 88.1FM, WMBR, Cambridge, MA.

Two Guns . (May.2007)
Three song EP, eight minutes of solid sound
A song from this studio EP was also played on Pipeline!

The Boss digital MP3 sessions (June.2007)

Set List

Poison Corpse Imitation
Mind Like a Menu
Ten Easy
Ghastly White
Hammer On, Hammer Up
Myself, Myself, Myself
Drunken Dogs
Six String Drag (acoustic duet)
You Know! (instrument switch)
Girl You Want (Devo)
Live Wire (Motley Crue)
I'm as Thin as the Revolution
Blues for Your Face