"synths" poems
Polyrhythms & sunny synths
rippling across the surface
of a blue lagoon as we are guided
to ascend by an enlightened
soul with the force of a typhoon.
Tinkling melodies & shining stars
gracing through the galaxies
within our hearts, pacing
in circles as it all continues
to lovingly fall apart.
Good vibes & joyous moments
take us all on a mystical journey
through the folds of time
as we flow through the waters
of golden beaches so divine.
What wonderful luck to be alive,
coexisting with the beauty
of a land touched by starlight.
An uplifting sea of memories
surfaces as nostalgia subtly sways
through the summer leaves,
floating upon a gentle breeze
giving way to an easy night.
Nov 9, 2021
Nov 9, 2021 at 5:51 AM UTC
old light. there's
mold on your
information.
your me
is flipped through
photo album. i am
somewhere between
the solar spasms,
deleted and spatial,
****** off. holding
no grudge, i
just can't care
that hard anymore. all
i want is
soaring silent synths
and eyes, mine, closed,
holding vacuums on the lids.
Jan 17, 2019
Jan 17, 2019 at 5:17 PM UTC
Fickled, fluttering of synths
Loop, lush, repeat
These fragments compliment my simple thoughts
My darting eyes craving to digest color and spectacle
I dance, obsess, whilst smoking my smoke as the separation between darkness and rejoice blur in an ever continuous ***** from below.
Apr 27, 2014
Apr 27, 2014 at 10:18 PM UTC
I'm from the
power pink sunsets
with waving palm trees
I'm from the
bright computer screens
who illuminate faces
I'm from the
pitched-down music
with fading synths
I'm not from the 80's,
nor from the 90's,
But from the 2000's:
I'm dreaming between them,
in reveries who're too ethereal
to describe.
Jan 11, 2017
Jan 11, 2017 at 7:15 PM UTC
Every razor thin
scarlet slash
is another
broken promise
sparking across a prairie -
Brought to life
as consuming fire
becoming merciless discord
in a broken tooth wasteland -
This upside down world where nothing turned
out and we’re just wandering -
I drift dragging drudgework
fish hook chains
in sidewinder fashion nightmare
searching eternally ****** rivers deprived
of justice on scales and fins -
I'm trying to understand
myself
so I can stand myself
and stand on my own
so nothing owns me
but the last time I saw something real
was you -
You were trapped in a sterile lab coat reverie
your tears stinging traces of honeywine and blackmail -
I remember your hands still so delicate
even with wear from bleach soaked
loyal test subjects -
Those siren voiced synths that are
getting harder and harder to spot
but you showed me how the seed numbers
reveal patterns as revealing
as their camera flash gorgon clothing -
They're just too typically perfect
and in that false perfection
total ugliness -
In the moments not framed by bloodlettings
and love letters
I am ****** to hear the constant rattle
of the existential conundrum corps
Keeping time with a self-loathing decadence -
Filling my mind as I root
through Faustian bargain bins
trying to reclaim that time
you first let me hold you and
my mind just...
…cleared.
Mar 10, 2014
Mar 10, 2014 at 3:56 PM UTC
sorry I lied when I said all I want to do is sleep
I haven’t slept in weeks
That’s a lie too of course
I put in an hour or two inbetween
Lying on the floor or in the tub
I hate the cold
But I didn’t used to
And that isn’t romantic
But things do change
Like the way the stars align and how I perceive death
And how I haven’t met my match
The late night is a song with synths
And the moon sings dream pop songs
About love and rest and the gaping holes planted in the sea
What does that even mean?
When it’s 3am you’re in tune with everything
Jan 5, 2016
Jan 5, 2016 at 3:24 AM UTC
Once mingled,
free-floating piano tunes
and
sun-harshed highway
could be a match.
The Light Rail
took its time on the causeway,
I am a passenger,
safely guarded from the
unapologetic summerness
like tourists from the safari park.
I am a outrageous punk,
perching onto handrails
lost in his romantic dream of an
impossible summer. Romeo and Juliet in my hand.
Vehicle garages rusting
along palm trees lined
railway.
This is Yuen Long. This is the outskirts
with gated dogs with feral barks,
this is a compromise between bungalows and nature.
Piano symphonies morphed into
eighties tunes
in the Call Me By Your Name soundtrack album,
and the eighties synths
draws the archived mystics,
out from avenues
that leads to villas similar to those I have sojourned.
And the world as I see it, it is beautiful.
Dec 8, 2018
Dec 8, 2018 at 1:14 PM UTC
Where do you go when the soul levitates in space?
Synths wash over me with godlike grace
I say, my dimension is slow and reverbed
With every problem, futsal shuffled to the curb
I say, "it's so surreal"
I want to gain a nursing shield
Just to show my father it's real
I know you're not around me
But I still feel your presence still
Some nights, I'm on an asteroid watching the stars
Other nights, I'm frostbitten awaiting your warmth
So, I ask you
When does your soul leave the physical?
I wanna know because you're supposed to see
What I see
Apr 30, 2021
Apr 30, 2021 at 2:16 AM UTC
When I heard your jazz improvisation
I craved the taste of a fine confection
Your synths were the flame that roasted my heart
Drunk with the notes, your sweet wine collection
Oct 15, 2021
Oct 15, 2021 at 4:59 AM UTC
In solitary spaces
I find parts noise hid
screaming simulacrum
in broken cobwebs
a life pending
in crevices
sensing
chill
broken
concepts
mantles for
ruptured elements
their soft core exposed
casualties of bloodied past
salvaged fragments
society's furnace
discarded
singing
synths
waiting
Dec 26, 2019
Dec 26, 2019 at 4:57 AM UTC
majestic sounds that fill the ear
luminously engraved as
the bass harmonizes with
melodies in my mind
as the piano croons a humble tune
coating the whispers in my ear
as the drums build up to perfect synchronization
wishing I could hold it so near
the heart of the synths enrapture me
catching me in the web of love
crocheted in a melodic fantasy
I close my eyes
as I enjoy the ride
letting the strings subside
I fantasize in this melodic bliss
who knew heaven could feel like this?
as I walk along the tones of bridges
building up to a world unknown
it is the sweetest thing I’ve ever known
like the tenderness of honeydew
the rhythms of love speak to you
so sweet yet so tempting
the trumpets tower over me
leaving me selfless
giving myself endlessly
Oct 5, 2022
Oct 5, 2022 at 3:11 AM UTC
i've got a soft
spot in my heart
for a good
harmonica solo
but also strings
banjos
synths
ukuleles
and tack piano makes
my heart skip a beat
don't even
get me started
on brass sections
they turn
me into a pile
of mush
so we can
conclude that
really just music
in general
makes me
disintegrate.
Oct 10, 2016
Oct 10, 2016 at 1:00 AM UTC
Noise-synced delirium
Acidic injection
objection! Too loud
impassive perception's
important to render the silk from the fiend
The synths coming at you
with sawing and beams
and there, pristine
the song of the axe
the splitting of atoms
they're tuning the parallax
revving the tendon
the chord they depend on
the pipe of the warlord
and howl of the warhorde, stampeding
pounding the earth it's a drum
and the thrum of the piper
who's flashing his guns
and valkyries, mounted,
join in the rush
and then hush
the clouds seizing
the chance to combust
and to shed a tear
or a thousand drops
of ecstasy
onto the trampled crops.
Mar 17, 2025
Mar 17, 2025 at 7:19 AM UTC
the rain receded before
the sun crept her hands up
to the yielding skirt of ice and
snow on the ground.
I could put my boots on,
go outside,
crank music and
oscillate wildly
to distorted synths.
it’ll drive the neighbor men
crazy. coax a shotgun
warning. better yet, I’ll grind
my *** on their windows,
pressing my cheeks to the glass
taking their eyes off those
50 inch tvs. they’ll lumber out
wide-eyed and open-mouthed
at the pale peach outside
and its inebriated rhythm.
we will turn this arabesque
of morning into an open air
dance club, complete with
mixed drinks and molly.
ours is a sad cul
de sac if only the trees
are allowed to oscillate
wildly. it’s not a place
for nanoloops.
Oct 20, 2016
Oct 20, 2016 at 3:34 PM UTC
It feels like a house crumbling
Like frosted grass growing between my fingers and toes in a worm ridden hollow
It feels hollow
Where a house once crumbled in the dark of day when a chorus of synths played in C minor but no one cried
Because the bombs yesterday, last month, next week swallowed their sorrow and left them hollow
It feels cold
Like frosted grass growing above me as the sun shines with renewal
Everything could be ok
Ok but hollow
Nov 6, 2016
Nov 6, 2016 at 2:02 AM UTC
The disc itself appears to be new,
A clear cover, a clean case.
The disc itself appears to be changed,
So I decide to press play.
I hear the song,
The sound, so beautiful.
It begins with bliss,
And then a sudden twist.
The haunting synths,
Consume the room.
Reminding me,
Of the old noises gloom.
This song is not new,
I’ve heard it in the past.
This song will not last,
The end will be soon.
The same old song,
Reminding me,
Of me and you.
Feb 28, 2019
Feb 28, 2019 at 8:20 AM UTC
something chasing after me, saltine
biscuits trailing my feet, salty tears soaking
them through their flaky meat, lotus dreams and
finite weeks, never running away from time, instead
waiting for it to catch up to our heels and
leave crumbs behind
time was sluggish and easy when I took it into my arms,
pliant when I bent it around my arms, hula hooping
lifting me to the tips of my feet, time knew me
better than the parents I’ll never meet,
dusty paths and soles of feet pattering on
sizzling concrete
time tells me that I should have been a runaway
ennui says I’m ***** souled and
listless and too far away
sugar in gas tanks and fingers plugged in ears kind of thing
chasing cheap thrills to kingdom come
until the moon is a gleam of white and
mixes and melds with the lines of
empty candle wicks
pop bottles popping off, night breezes, a kiss under palm trees
(ennui uplifted momentarily)
southern Arizona and cool synths, runaway dream
onomatopoeia making a home in our daydreams
furtive eyes seeking to find God, but
reality crashing down around me
Aug 10, 2019
Aug 10, 2019 at 10:37 PM UTC
seGment, bona
smUg
grIns,
inTo cuteness.
imAges
aRe
aGgressively ingratiating, as
that pUnctuates feats.
mIllionaire?” model
building suspense wiTh
And
thumps, “genius junioR”
a janGly its
soUnd,
rIffs a
big-Tent sideshow.
the contestAnts
aRe
introduction seGment, in
cross smUg
grIns, if
inTo
cuteness. the imAges
of aRe
aGgressively
that pUnctuates feats.
“who mIllionaire?” model
of building suspense wiTh
synths And bludgeoning
“genius junioR” offers
a janGly
its soUnd,
rIffs like
big-Tent sideshow.
the contestAnts
aRe production
seGment, which
memberships, memories, kids smUg
grIns, as
inTo
cuteness. the imAges the
kids aRe
aGgressively as
that pUnctuates
to a mIllionaire?”
wiTh synths
And thumps,
“genius junioR”
janGly its
soUnd,
rIffs like a
big-Tent sideshow.
the contestAnts
aRe the as
Apr 4, 2018
Apr 4, 2018 at 11:41 AM UTC
What is happening?
Who am I?
Where did I go?
Lost figures
Dancing endlessly
In shadowed grass.
Meadows in the night,
Lovers in my sight.
Pain in my chest.
Throbbing head
Strings and synths
Bring my emotions out.
A boiling point reached
Shock slowly wears off
Grim, sad reality.
Cut my hair
Shave
Listen to the sounds
She acts as if
She is unaffected
By the end of the world.
Mar 15, 2014
Mar 15, 2014 at 8:57 AM UTC
YO! THE FOOD OF LOVE BRO!
I, sample
her smile
just the basic
riff of it
scatter the first few notes
of her laughter
across a backbeat &
transpose it to a
string thing
then, the synths come in &...
the drums kick in &. . .
I re-mix her &
re-mix her.
Ok yo...memory
my main man
play her back
for me!
Just one more thousandth time!
And Memory gives her
back to me
like a hologram on
the Star Trek deck.
I have her &
...I have her: not.
Yo bro...mo more
'tis not as sweet now
as it was
before!"
"...for the rain it raineth every day."
Jun 17, 2015
Jun 17, 2015 at 6:59 PM UTC
I'll give you a few
why are we afraid of our own poo?
blah blah **** you
I think I might have scared her away
somehow, and this is sitting in my stomach, won't digest, hurting
aching, like a coldplay song, extends through the bars, leading me to...bars
**** **** this and that
afraid of ******* something good up, always afraid of that
like my life is a tender, gentle fabric, of brilliance, and my hands are hole punchers, synths, sythers, synthesizers out of key, constantly playing the wrong melody
and I have to repair every day, the wrong way
and nobody minds, its good and its fine
its all in my head?
or was it something I said?
Mar 9, 2015
Mar 9, 2015 at 3:41 PM UTC
As words dance around my head
I find new meanings again
A rebirth?
A resurrection?
Something tingles through my toes
Working its way through the streams of my blood
Ink pours out of my finger
Splashing the page with vibrant colours
Shapes start to form
trying to will all my power and gain focus
Something flashes before these eyes
A world rotating in slow motion
Pictures covered in black and white
Splotches of colour start to melt in
Like rain hitting the ground
I feel a warmth the likes I haven't felt since I was a child
A youthful feeling
One full of imagination and wonder...
A sound gently lingers in the background
It's soft yet calm
It's kind of soothing
A vibe slowly swaying my body
A rhythm that life slowly bounces to
I hear soft synths and quiet humming
a memory slowly unfolding itself
Pixelated pictures start fading into clarity
This soul feels new, vocal, bold
Is this confidence?
is this knowledge?
This is just poetry in motion.
©2018 Written By Benji James
Feb 7, 2018
Feb 7, 2018 at 4:19 AM UTC
an 80s tune with zippy synths and chirpy vocs
a song for happier times
you couldn’t sing a tune this bright now
there’s no audience for it
Feb 9, 2022
Feb 9, 2022 at 9:41 AM UTC