Email Poem

Your IP Address: 13.59.243.24
Your Email Address:
To Email Address:
Subject
Personal Note:
Poem Title:
Poem
I chose the reggae mix
Not because i have long hair
Not because i have read eyes
Not because I chew the cud 
Just because i love selector

I chose to listen 
Because of Selector 
He reigns in the kingdom
Of my old box radio
With his maroon black suit 
he mixes better
Pulling his aerials 

I know the battery cells 
were dieing
But i didn't know selector 
Was sick
The copper meal was turning metallic 

I hit my cassette tape
And put in selector's box 
Selectors tuxedo was moving with rhythm  
Reggae tone, Nine one one mixing
As sleep squeezed 
Juice out of my marbles 
Till my mouth was left hanging open
with malt juice stretching like magma 
From my endless pit
As i enjoyed the madness 
snoozing..

When the sleep bondage 
Let me free
Shock welcomed me from the world
of more sleep more slander  
To a world still like the grace 
The whole house was dead
I could smell the corpse in my socks
And silence reminded me my bottle
Selector was mixing nothing 
I could only hear his shoe kicking 
The mixer Since It is you to kick the bucket 
Not selector 

I chose to unscrew my box radio
With my eyes about to fall from the socket
Sorrow was waiting for me 
With wide fangs
Selector was there
Sleeping between positive and negative
the cockroach was dead  

I was pissed off
To discover that selector 
Had gone to meet Lucky Dude
In paradise
I chose the Cosby fish coffin 
Knelt and spit on the floor 
sneezed two times and 
walked to my neighbor 
Do you have any bored selector there?
I asked a fool who studied world war two
And chose to practice it on my selector dudes

My neighbor stared at me
And I asked again
Do you have any cockroaches you give me one
He thought i was crazy
I remembered he is lawyer
The best he does is wear a black suit
Like that of young selector
Yes i smoked evaporated from my hair
And i remembered young selector 
The Sound mixer who went on strike
And feasted on my green shirt
For not buying him a radio box

I found him In the corner of a cupboard
Mourning his papa
I said come dude, don't mourn Big selector  
He went to meet Bob money
I will be nice to you
You will be my selector
Come we mix 'don't worry be happy tone'
I put him in the radio box
At the sit of the late selector
Gave him morale 
by putting new charged batteries 


And I screamed 
Rock dem' selecto
I turned on the radio box
And my new hired selector 
Was like his late dad
he mixed my best hit
'Don't worry, die happy

Rest In Peace
DJ selector
CAPTCHA Preview
Type the characters you see in the picture
Required