"remixes" poems
To the last street sweeper on the eve of the apocalypse
Whose life partner is beauty
Who makes more sense in a minute of listening
Then we do in a lifetime of talking
Who paints olive trees and cypresses
And now knows it's not called crazy
It's called pain, and it will pass
To the last street sweeper on the eve of the apocalypse
Who wakes up an hour before he falls asleep
And yet, never stops dreaming
Who rewrites morality with every fraction of information intake
And remixes truth until we're left bobbing our heads
With no other choice than to just feel it
To the last street sweeper on the eve of the apocalypse
Whose children are freedom
Who walks in the rain while we plain get wet
Who wants nothing more than to want nothing more
Who only makes routine out of celebration
And love
To the last street sweeper on the eve of the apocalypse
Who ties masterpieces to rogue kites
And whispers nonsense into researcher's ears
Who knows that nobody is perfect
And takes the words "meant to be" very very seriously
Who exists
And is **** proud of that
To the last street sweeper on the eve of the apocalypse
Who revises his rewrites of morality
When information intake is remixed by reality
Until we're left shaking our heads
With no other choice than to think
Wait for me
And save me a glass
Nov 19, 2011
Nov 19, 2011 at 11:05 PM UTC
What is originality anymore?
The pop songs we listen to day in day out,
That are only updated remixes of
Songs that our parents
Already know every lyric to.
Is it the pranks we play on each other at school,
Poking holes in the top of water bottles,
So we don’t get caught when we try to catch our class mates.
Drowning them
In carbonated energy drinks.
Don’t think you’ll get away with it.
The teachers already know,
About flicking elastic bands at the backs of girls knees,
So they scream a little louder
And turn around to see
Boys smirking faces,
Because they have been there before.
Define originality.
Originality
. /əˌrɪdʒɪˈnalɪti/
noun
1. the ability to think independently and creatively.
•the quality of being novel or unusual
synonyms: inventiveness, creativeness, creativity, innovativeness, innovation, novelty, freshness, newness, imagination, break with tradition, resourcefulness, cleverness, daring, individuality, unusualness, unprecedentedness, uniqueness, distinctiveness
.
Is it smuggling ***** in water bottles,
Or sneaking down to the back garden
To have one last cigarette with your friends,
At 1am
On New Years
When you have had more to drink than your parents
Yet you are only 15.
Watering down whiskey from your parents liqueur cabinet
With apple juice.
Getting caught drunk
After being out with friends, Stumbling in at 2am
On Sunday morning.
Storming up to your room
After having a row with your parents.
Slamming the door,
Screaming at the floor,
Calling a friend,
And ******** about the people who brought you into this world.
Maybe
I’m not as good with words
Than I thought I was
O r i g i n a l i t y I s D e a d
Your parents Grandparents
Aunties and uncles
Have seen it all before
It’s a fact of growing up
And one day
You will too know
Exactly how it is
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 6:33 PM UTC
I will love you with no regards as to who you've loved before me. No matter who has tasted your oh so precious lips before they met mine.
I will love you no matter who hates you or who loves you, or who loves hating you. I will love you no matter who you love or who you hate, or who you hate loving.
I will love you no matter what a certain group of people say about us, even if this certain group of people are your friends, my friends, or our parents.
I will love you as a novel loves being read and as the reader loves reading a certain quote that he found on the internet that convinced him to buy the novel and how that certain quote loves being revised online as to fool someone's followers on Twitter that it was his own.
I will love you no matter how many typos you have when drunk texting me, or drunk texting someone else who, I hope to God, isn't your ex.
I will love you no matter what songs you sing in the shower, no matter how wrong the lyrics are or if you're out of tune, or even if you don't take showers at all.
I will love you as a graphic artist loves drawing his favorite stroke, even if his professor says it's not the right way it should be done.
I will love you as a certain DJ loves playing his favorite remix, even if the crowd hates The 1975 remixes because they're too biased to appreciate it.
I will love you no matter what bands break up next year and no matter what bands get back together and pull out another Fall Out Boy.
I will love you even if the clowns stop laughing at their own jokes, even if the priests start questioning their own homily sermons, or even when the masses stop laughing at the priest's jokes at homily.
I will love you even if you stop correcting my works even when you grow tired of my mistakes, not only my grammatical ones but the ones I make literally.
I will love you no matter what color your hair is or if you wear contacts to sleep or not. I will love you even if you stop tracing my lips as I fall asleep beside you, even if you steal the blankets at the coldest of nights.
I will love you even if you regret meeting me and that you allowed me to woo you with my saccharine tongue.
That is how I will love you, so please just don't regret loving me.
Sep 7, 2015
Sep 7, 2015 at 2:52 AM UTC
Late night dancing
When the music starts to play
Its hard not to dance to it.
As I twirl around the room
In to your arms. Dancing
On the soft notes of a violin
Echo within the house. I dance
On my toes towards the door
Out in to the yard under the moonlight.
I dance to the beautiful music. The light
Soft violin floats over and through the
Cracks of the other house mixing in with the
Drum solo of the hard core rock song.
He dances in a different way
He bangs his head back and forth
To and fro letting his hair fall any ware.
He cranks it up to let the whole neighborhood
To hear. It escapes through the chimney traveling
Through the neighborhood till it reaches a
House party.
Teens buzzing every ware rubbing up on each other
All the ***** dancing adults hate. Listing to remixes
Of there favorite songs, the beat and screech of a siren
Fills the night sky, dub step is joining the party in the
Sky.
Up in the clouds with only the moonlight to project the light
The music notes dance tonight.
The soft music twirls and spines around stage like a ballerina
She finds the boy with the head banging and teaches him how to
Spin while she learns how to shake her head.
The loudest of the party shows up and starts ***** dancing with
Everyone around.
The party becomes bigger as more of the neighborhood wakes up
To dance tonight.
Country and tap-dance the music notes find new partners
And dance the night away under the moonlight.
Aug 21, 2012
Aug 21, 2012 at 8:20 PM UTC
Each drops, each one
Its like the worse teardrops
Mixed with the symphony
And remixes melodies
Create the own version of ochestra
Flying bows everywhere
Flickering hand every beat
Up side down back every seconds
I almost forgetten
the part I most lost
Its never been
and I never want to lose
My heart kindda
Raindrops
Once rain ;
Its hard to stop
Feb 18, 2015
Feb 18, 2015 at 4:28 AM UTC
so this is the final note,
i already sang my ideal goodbye a few months ago. cosmic tears, silent breaths. wished that not only the sound of my breathing that was missing.
i promised myself that i wouldn’t let myself go back into the well-lit corner where we tried to sync our voices so we could sound less disastrous. but then it inspired another analogy. we are that corner. more than anything else
have you ever looked at someone and thought, “you’re the young adult novel i read last month.”
written on brown was another goodbye note. unsent messages and remixes of old regrets. i got rid of idealism and embraced the disaster that was going to happen. but it didn’t work
i’ll have you know that i never read those novels anymore. i find them too naive, or maybe i’m just too bitter. i’ll have you know that i stopped after our second first meeting.
and a few days ago i thought that you were just a fuel that keeps my fingers tapping. not the destination. but i guess you won’t reach any destination with an empty tank, will you?
remember a year ago that you were just another form of my failed dream? of a regret that isn’t quite clear. you became much greater than that, you are a bigger, higher hope, thrown harder to the ground.
remember when i thought you share my madness of two. ours. it took me a few tens of stair steps and a couple of incompatible seats to realize that you never were. my naivety never went away after all.
remember when you turned your back gracefully; remember when i was glad that my pillows weren’t made of sponge? remember diamonds turning into broken glass?
you don’t. you will never. because you never knew (or pretended to not)
and in the end, i’d do it all again.
i’ll betray myself again; i’ll let myself down again. i’ll always love to think that i’m not the only one that is afraid, that is screaming my fears away.
but even after shouting my heart out and putting my mind on display, i’m not quite outside my head, not yet. i really do believe in miracles. and maybe one day someone will drop a key to my thoughts and leave me to exit them myself.
sometimes i like to think that person is you.
Jun 9, 2015
Jun 9, 2015 at 6:54 AM UTC
1.20.
I wrote my
own artist
agreement
Blending the
four primal
colours of war
I’m rewriting
the treaties
Remixes of
aphrodisiacs
My remedies
for life keep
giving me
success
Call me Aphrodite chain smoking
cigarettes
The Lone Orchid of frost bitten
sunsets
I’m the only
one in
one of
a kind
A one hit
wonder that
echos forever
with time
Mesmerizing
Gods and
consolations
I am the
Divine
inspiration
This weak
ecosystem has
made me
vicious again
I wanna see
people get
a bit more
independent
Remove their
denial
See the truth
in the ways
of survival
This is next
level chest
and I’m always
six steps
ahead
When I’m behind
that’s when I
attack at
my best
My bullet proof
**** rate
I’ll take you
out by the neck
Call me up
Say what?
I’ll always be
that crazy
****
saying whatever
it is I want
Ring.Ring.
My telephone
never stops
And I’m never
picking it up
Later I might
hit you
back up
Right now
I’m busy
getting
unplugged
Jun 11, 2019
Jun 11, 2019 at 4:55 PM UTC
As I sit here and tear up
And scrounge around through old papers
Struggling to find the right words
I've only came across a few:
Your love makes me
Full
Drunk
Hungover
And back to the start
The craftsmanship God went through to make you
Is just....
magnificent art
Your tongue slithers to enunciate words
But I can't get past the sight of you
Your heart glows brighter than your smile
My personal sunlight, molding me anew
Your love makes me
Laugh
Cry
Scream
And a bit sublime
Your love elevates me
Inspires me
Enlightens me
Remixes me
All at the same time
May 27, 2013
May 27, 2013 at 12:10 AM UTC
You sold me a promise
And I bought it
No refunds or returns
Just us and the hits.
You talked to me
And forced me to listen
To old remixes and love songs
And I danced around my kitchen.
Then, it was over
And all of it stopped
You had a girlfriend
And our number one flopped.
Now, when I see you
And I see you a lot
I think of our time
And how you must have forgot.
You know that I'm over you
You just wanted a chase
I respect it, I get it
Now that I'm out of the daze.
Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 8:56 AM UTC
I am in love with music remixes
The beats are like my heart beat
Moving faster and fast until I think I am going to die
Then
At the last second
They drop
And I am sent into the deep whirlpool
Filled with all of my emotions
And just how you can pick out beats in a song
I can pick out heartbeats in my life
Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 1:27 PM UTC
You're not a poet
you didnt go for that bachelor in english
you don't know shakespeare or jane austin or william blake
you know you're just a phony a fake
Oh dear But let me tell you
my spoken word may not move mountains or lakes
but it lets me bleed without bleeding
it lets me cry while
stops me and maybe others from wanting to die
it erupts from my lungs , bursting at the seams
it makes the hairs on strangers necks and forearms salute my words
no piece of paper can validate the words that i speak
for my words dont come from books
i speak from the pits of life you speak from remixes of your of english classics
we both can speak , we both can talk
But only one of us has come back from the walk
Oct 29, 2016
Oct 29, 2016 at 5:03 AM UTC
When the Internet
existed
for conspiracy theories and
remixes
I woke up
laying next to you
after an Oxy-lovin night
waiting to start another fight
I let you roll the blunt
I let you sit up front
You, always sit next to me
We took the back roads
Through the green trees
Past
the houses of our tired friends
Past
the girls that made you jealous
Past
the future lovers you'd take
We'd drive past the future.
Apr 22, 2017
Apr 22, 2017 at 12:19 PM UTC
I lose my grip
In your exquisite drip
Wishing you would strip
So I can hit that
Finesse that
Taste your deeply lickable lips
With my hands on your sleek hips
I want to direct your flex
Produce hypnotic remixes and hits
When we ultimately kiss
And go all the way
Jul 21, 2021
Jul 21, 2021 at 10:07 AM UTC