Music Photography Poetry Writing

April 11, Oh Well 1.1


This week’s playlist is called “Oh Well”. It’s made up of new and old artists, mixing genres, blending sounds, brought together with a chill lounge vibe, all coalescing together to give off the impression… Better luck next time. 

This is accompanied by a poem titled “Oh Well”. 

Click here for this week’s playlist. Oh Well 1.1

Oh Well By: Ashish Seth

A broken umbrella in a monsoon drizzle 

Cold coffee and a bowl of soggy cereal

Oh well

Rain dumping buckets of double entendres on your head

A forced feeling of surprise to get a reaction from a friend

Oh well

The highlight of the day a vague sigh in a bed 

That report was nothing to brag about but you milked it anyway

Oh well

Single serving quotes on Instagram posts 

Cars broken down with the motors still running 

And single serving K cups of caffeine jolts 

Sped up sirens and sleepless nights hoping

You never really had a chance

Oh well

The chances had you is the story you tell

Oh well

Oh well

Oh well
Ashish Seth

Poetry Vignette Writing

Vantage Philadelphia

vantage philly

A city by the river, a city of brotherly love, the skyline stretches the length of the river, mostly white lights and some reds and greens in the distance. From our vantage, a grassy turf shrouded in darkness bordered on our left by a forest patch of trees, music at high frequency plays from jarring speakers, young people sitting in the grass as fireflies pop out of the grass like embers from a fire. The quiet talks of young lovers and the brash speech of young punks drunk and lying on the lawn is seldom. The mood is complacent. I try to capture the city in my iPhone camera but the darkness and distance reveals a blurry photo on all occasions, the essence of the city escaping in tiny pixels. A moon lights the smudgy clouds above, they sit in the sky sunken and heavy, wet and moist. A rain has fallen earlier, a storm has passed. These remnants of a previous age float ominously, suggest a doom. But the city sparkles from this distance and from decidedly low vantages that provide a suspension of disbelief, as the city twinkles off the river, the fireflies spark out of the grass, shooting stars, shy fireworks, that rise above Philadelphia.

Ashish Seth

Art Poetry Writing

May 14, The Climb Forever

– AS

Art Poetry

May 13, Lazy Loop

Lazy Loop

– AS

Art Poetry Writing

May 12, Villain Therapy

Villain Therapy

– AS


May 11, Do, Because It’s Hard


– AS

Photography Poetry Writing

August 15, Light Rain Drive

These lights shine like this every night and cars pass by and things happen and still they stand and shine and don’t complain. Always. And things don’t change for long periods of time. They still stand. And it makes me wonder whether some people’s lives are like this?

The only thing worse than shouting and no one hearing you is shouting and no one paying attention.

By Ashish Seth

Photography Poetry Writing

August 10, Side B


We come alive at night with the treble low and the bass high.
Spend the first hour driving around aimlessly because we can.
The lights all neon like in color spread across the streets carried by rain water.
And after a cold streak I turn around and speak in a possessed whisper:

Life is a dress up.
Life is a constant struggle to mess up.
Life is how you dress up a wound in front of people.
Life is a 2 hour test you study for 16 hours.
Life is a random occurrence made deliberate.
Life is a deliberate purpose made accidental.
Life is the three words said to a person out of desperation.
Life is the hesitation to say the truth to said person.
Life is a talk with a lack of macho emphasis.
Life is too much emphasis on too few sentences.
Life is pretending to be okay when you’re not.
Life is pretending to be hurt when you’re okay.
Life is a movie hall filled to capacity.
Life is a provoked state of brevity for the hasty.
Life is not having to worry about people’s ears.
Life is a bite of expensive pie only meant for your mouth.
Life is a drink from the river we all drink out of.

The bowling balls are getting heavy
I’m about to leave in someone else’s clothes.
Were we ever meant to be? is a redundant question.
Yes, once in a time of pressure and spontaneity.
The only thing we agreed upon was we were both frightened.
I must’ve convinced myself I liked you on purpose.
And that’s how I found myself by accident.
Too many stops for gas on the road to the destination.
If no two roads are alike, then why should I map my path to another person’s life?
Our fears keep us up at night.
Our hopes keep us up tonight.

Anxious, and terrified but alive.

By Ashish Seth

Photography Poetry Writing

August 9, Side A


Rum Runners took this road South to the border.
Wheels of trucks passed through, chocked full of soldiers.
Band wagoners jumped off trains to escape the draft.
Shady men smoked weed under street lights and shared a drag.
The Prime Minister drove past this road once and did not remember.
The whole community gathered to follow a hearse in mid-September.
Whites pelted tomatoes when a store was bought by Negros.
They offered cheap goods and after a while no one complained.
Plans to build a college failed because of the city.
Janey kissed a girl and then married into money.
A once drunk man found Jesus on a stop sign.
He tried to warn the people but no one had the time.
Rain swept slippery where the Honda slammed the Chevy.
Flowers and a sign that said “You’ll never be forgotten, Janey.”
They still come to put them under the only street light that flickers.
Make sure the flowers are replaced before they wither.
Low res photos to show a plain street at night.
Repaved cracks like scars tell a story trying to hide.

Rain soaked streets illuminated by an evening sun about to go down.
Humidity that pulls at the unwashed hair on your head and eyebrows.
Everything feels stiff and dirty.
Everything seems to bite.
It is in this moment that we’re truly aware of our age.
Tired and lazy and weary, waiting for the day to turn to dusk.

By Ashish Seth

Photography Poetry Writing

August 5, Night Shift

It was all messsssssed up
All over the floor
The way they looked at me

I did something
And I didn’t have to do it
I did something I didn’t have to do
Did something, didn’t have to do it
Did it anyway
Did I want to?
Didn’t want to?
Did it
I did
All over
It was all over
Nails digging in the back of my neck
Watch for cracks on the sidewalk
But it all made sense
Even with no circumstance

Could’ve just walked away
Made my escape
I wanted this?
Did something, I didn’t have to but did
I did it anyway
It was all messsssssed up
But I fixed it
Felt like breaking

Now I look at my portrait
And I wait for me
To come back the same way
Holed socks in a cabinet
Frozen ice over faces
Cold water reaches from the bottom of the lake

By Ashish Seth