You may not be able
to see the first signs of fall because
it shows up the same way
as love does
you feel it first
Over night suddenly everything
is somehow,
Different
As if Mother Nature and us
are connected
we are find ourselves changing
with the seasons
And as the nights grow
colder
the happier I will feel

If a world is known by its ideals
Let mine be known as sanity
Let all men be infertile
And all women, stale
Let streets be known for sanitation
And all babies dipped in chlorine
All talk, sterile and sufficient
All excrement concealed
Let the youth of my predecessors
And their mocking vulgarity
Drown in a town of minimal design
And shocking similarity.

Post a letter to
your memories
Say hi for me
Print it in italics
and go way back
Make the letters dance
like your love did for me
Say it sweet, say it beautiful
Sign it with a kiss

Φοβάμαι να σε δω ξαφνικά μπροστά μου, Αμάντα. Θα είναι σαν να γίνεται καταιγισμός από συναισθήματα στο κορμί μου. Θα μυρίσω το άρωμα σου και θα νιώσω πως είμαι στην αγκαλιά σου πάλι, χωρίς να είμαι. θα δω τα μάτια σου και θα θυμηθώ πώς με κοίταγες μετά από κάθε μας φιλί και πως με κοίταξες όταν μου είπες «αντίο». Θα δω την σκιά σου και θα βρεθώ στο στενό που άρχισα να χάνω την ζωή μου καθώς την έβλεπα να απομακρύνεται. Γιατί από την στιγμή που πήρες την καρδία μου μαζί σου, όλες μου οι αναμνήσεις αποτελούνται από σκιές.

I fell in love with you in the purchase of a postage stamp
I put your face and body and mind on paper
The way your hair curls
The way you jump with excitement and flap your arms
like a kid would on Christmas morning
How you were always there to turn to
Although I couldn't turn to you because you were never there
And by there I mean here, with me, where you should've been
I fell in love with the train tickets to you
The little orange squares like golden tickets
Granting me access to see you
To touch you
To share the foam of my coffee and laugh with you
at the man dancing at the hot dog stand
And when you finally stepped through my doorway
I swear it was Christmas and my birthday all at once
Planting my head on your chest
We bloomed and grew to heights I never knew was possible
And while little flowers blossomed at the ends of my fingertips
they grew on the tip of your tongue as you uttered those words
Those words to whom I have told but one; you
If I could find a word to describe the feeling of reading
the last several pages of a book you know has become your favourite
I would tell it to you
The hours that we whiled away and the ones that took up
the most of our day to get to each others arms before they took another’s
all meant something
And while the last bitter-sweet pages of our story have been read
Know that there's a girl who still writes you
You dance on the pages of her notebook
And while the postage stamps stay un-licked
She sends these poems to you
For in her mind you will always stay

He's just seven hundred kilometers away
But it feels like he's on the other side
Of this cynical, condescending ball of gas we call home
That glares down on everyone's pride

A hop, skip, and a fifty-minute plane ride away
Makes up this protective barrier between you and me
But no, this ball of gas won't let it go my way
It's a killer after all, made up of land and sea

[PART ONE]
xeroxed, RT'd and plagiarized
so many times on so many blogs
tween blogs to republican blogs
to blogs in Russia and
blogs no one ever scrolls though...
original content is prey
but I have a warning for they:

overrated, over-shared
content aggregators beware
the lines you swap can
rot and ware
the World Wide Web
does not care.

[PART TWO]
original content
original contests
original continent
original controversy
original coordination between strangers
original calvary riding their connection into the battlefield of internet memes; creating nothing and sharing everything

[COMMENTARY]
original nothing, nowhere, nobody except facebook "Funny Vidoes!" & "Cool Quotes!". 'Like' pages whose sole originality lies within their own existence but nothing they share. They steal from the rest of the web and re-post what they find for out-of-the-loop troglodytes; often done so in inferior context and with no perspective. The 'refried beans' phenomenon, I call it. I find it fitting because 'refried beans' are a double misnomer. The name comes from 'frijoles refritos' - which means 'well-fried' not 'refried'. They are also never traditionally fried more than once. Yet the name sticks, it gets repeated, it gets re-shared and now that's what they are: refried beans. This phenomenon is why I believe art and all original content eventually become so over-shared and overrated that it's no longer interesting but irritating. These three parts of the poem "Original Content" are separated in abstract authorial presentation. The author has clearly expressed his dislike for the disjunct un-imagination of the internet and presents it as such.

[PART THREE]
original authors losing control of their audiences who believe they are the creators and the artist's art is somewhat shareable
original miscommunication between web 1.0 and web 2.0 reality
original alphabet they use to type on their keyboards
original grammar they learned in school
original money their gov't printed
original content they re-post
original refried beans
original content
orginal contet
ogrinal cotent
ognal ctt
oc
.