Best Playlists Poems
Sometimes I can't believe it
It all happened so fast
Real life is truly here
Just who is that looking at me in the mirror?
How come these bills are addressed to my name?
It's like I went to sleep and woke up
And I'm all grown up
Sometimes I miss the days
When your crush had cooties, not STDs
And afternoons were spent climbing trees
And it's hard to grasp our age
Who's that man calling you "his wife"?
How come that little girl just called you Dad?
It's like I went to sleep and woke up
And we're all grown up
Sometimes the kids today
Make me feel so old when they say
They've never heard of Kurt Cobain
But I know that we're better
Cause we could fix our Nintendo in just one blow
And we all figured this out sans Twitter
It's like I went to sleep and woke up
And I'm all grown up
I remember the stupid things
Pogs and Goosebump books
Playlists were mixtapes on cassettes
And Friday nights meant TGIF on ABC
Nickelodeon was our only obsession
Friend requests were made in person
And they still showed music videos on MTV
It's like I went to sleep and woke up
And it's a different world - Nothing's the same
Cause we're all grown up
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Politics is all about haves and have nots.
Who gets ahead. Who waits in line.
Privileged ones, and the rest get denied.
Politics is about relative truth.
Data be damned. Conspiracies claimed.
Favors for votes. Constituents maimed.
Politics is about what party plays.
Which party stays. What's your world view.
A main course of elephant, donkey fondue.
Politics is I’m right, or maybe you’re wrong.
Debates and train rides. Buses and airlines.
Things heard on open mics and dark dye on hairlines.
Politics is lighting, cameras, makeup aglow
It's who do you know, and if they'll debate.
It's speeches, fundraisers, babies and chicken plates.
Politics is white houses, state houses, stained blouses.
It's tourists with playlists, local, statewide or global.
Incriminating texts, on phones that are mobile.
Politics is Uncle Joe's jail time, Aunt Betty’s brew.
And a family’s deepest dark secrets,
That cause church splits in the name of Jesus.
Politics is vote counting, as valuable as blood.
It's the trust that weaves things together.
Transparent as mud, and stable as weather.
Politics makes life better and sometimes much worse.
In the end, Politics is people.
Often rotten to the core sometimes even lethal.
From morning light until 6pm at night,
I'm behind the scenes curating delight.
With tones that echo on your radio,
blending local stories into audio.
In the heart of waves, where frequencies ascend,
from AM to FM, radio signals extend.
In the realms of airwaves, where voices roam,
broadcasting melodies that are heard at home.
With many dials, meters and buttons galore,
producing shows, which listeners adore.
Weaving scripts to ensure presenters flow,
creating playlists of songs people know.
Colleagues call me the conductor of sound,
composing themes to entertain all year round.
Preventing silence from all transmissions,
making life easy for my technicians.
Inviting guests from a wide range of places,
from different backgrounds and new faces.
On standby to report on breaking news,
using social media to increase the views.
Monitoring projects are in my domain,
there's also an apprentice I have to train.
It's not just about navigating the studio,
I compose the moments that make hearts glow.
Instead of playing your regular playlist
Just shuffle the playlists one day
And yes, you should not skip, I insist...
What wil happen now?
You will hear your least fav song first
You will be upset, but still you know
Your favourite songs are also in the list
And so you will wait for it
But next, You'll hear another least favourite
This time, you won't be upset
You will just keep calm and hear it, I bet
And again, It will play your least fav
And now, you will be enjoying this process
But you won't easily express.
You will start noticing the interesting bits
And eventually fall in love with those least hits..
Now that's what happens in life
When we know what's there for us
When we happen to guess
We certainly lack the sheer enthusiasm
So don't be too attentive
Don't plan aggressively
Don't follow the time table
Cos, if we know
What's on the row
We can't relish,
For happiness lies
in the random things...
So go shuffle your playlist
Shuffle your time table
Be beguiled
Be a curious child
Life will be interesting...
August 26 2022
Let's wax poetic - wax on..
We’re in for it
When we enter
the insubstantial country of love
That secret theater, in an invisible mansion of moods
it’s a resort that houses its share of speechless monologues and sore disappointments, all lovers know that, but there are infinite discoveries too—secret, intimate delights and sensual confidences.
Ok, wax off.
My horoscope this morning said, “any tension you’re experiencing now is just part of the process.”
Peter (my bf), flew in last night. When we’re separated too long, remembering him, remembering us, can at times, seem like a memory exercise and I find myself wondering if I’m wasting my bikini years on a handshake deal. Then we’re reunited and bam, I’m reminded why it’s a ‘dub-u, dub’ again.
He’s a delectation—in a Christmas bauble kind of way—shiny and dangerous because I want to touch him—but not be loud or showy about it. Leeza (Lisa’s 14-year-old sister) whispered to me, when I was getting some ice, “You watch him with the too-still poise of a cat about to strike.” I smiled at the complement because I love cats.
Every once in a while I’ll pinch him, to make sure he’s real. “Oww! Stop that!
“What?!” I ask, pulling back as if innocently confused.
I got him a room at the Marriott Essex House. It’s 400 feet down W59th from Lisa’s building entrance to the front door of his hotel. I measured it off, with urgent steps—then I helped him unpack. We unpacked a lot.
Later, we joined Dave and Lisa for a Christmas light tour—Manhattan’s flexing its wow-factor for us.
I didn’t get to sit on Santas lap this year, I’m a little old for that,
but I did get what I wanted most—I’m sure I’m grinning like an idiot.
It’s not quite Christmas yet, but thanks, Santa.
Merry Christmas - Happy Hanukkah - Merry Kwanzaa - Happy Festivas!
.
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Songs for this:
Heat Wave by Linda Ronstadt
Same Songs by Kelly Jones
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Two days until Christmas.. how ‘bout some Christmas playlists?
www.daweb.us/xmas/
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dub-u, dub = a big win
Rabbits at junctions are often akin to moons at traffic lights. A light lunch is preferable to a whisky scone when taking a picnic to a lake. But playlists can play so font argue with a flamed fortress of fig. Tailoring a suit for a nine foot bead and dazzling s crowd with a one millimetre tiara is not a sound judgment for a counting ball. 1 2 3 then. Radio that on a one kilometre hand held microphone. Hahahahaha the skipping rope is jumping in a hula hoop today. Lovely. It is not the way of the feathered cloud to land in a field fuelled upside-down but a gridlocked four dimensional satanic bowler hat can swim many acres in a spotted swimsuit. Good. Underpasses underwater underground undertake uniquely unequal unisons. And a proxy is neither productive nor normal. Statutory static authorisational code bringing wine to a ball room. Fantastic news for the pillar. Geranium gathering giblets. And a pie. Wow. Xxxxx destitution demon demonstrated dogmatic dramas digging. Xxxxxx counter intelligence and no matter. Xxxxx miscommunication Z
Music jogs my memories, sonnets sock their toes,
where parts are missing holes are filled with frilled and fancy flows.
Sometimes sadness lurks where repetition works,
and overplaying certain songs will draw out nasty smirks,
not smiles that represent the happiest of times,
memories that weaken knees can compliment cruel rhymes
about weakness and flagrancy, lies and bitter spite,
where fools fought faithfully to fix an idea that was trite,
neither won, in fact both lost and still continue thus,
so now what songs will soothe a reignited, unrequited fuss?
I’m left with decent tunes to tempt me on a lonesome night,
where cigarettes and darkness fuse into a muse, I might,
replay certain parts, but then again why reinforce a dark despair?
In new playlists I’ll make sure certain songs are never there.
The Cure For Winter Blues
Don't be feeling down
Just because winter came around
Let me share things I have found
Before more snow hits the ground
My youtube channel viewwithme
Has much excitement for you to see
So go to the site and join me
It really is the place to be
There are playlists to suit your every need
Anything from wild bats out of trees
To the judging of birds and bumble bees
Take a minute to give it a peek
You will find what you seek
There is nothing you would consider bleak
These playlists are all very unique
Even if you have the flu
Don't go feeling blue
You can still have fun and see something new
From waterfalls to making a shoe
If you are into storm chasing
Or even furniture making
You can watch from when you're first waking
Until your eyes are aching
If you like to watch a whole lot of contests
My youtube channel viewwithme is the best
You may even need to take a rest
Before you can continue to see the rest
There are playlist of stagecoaches and wagons too
And much more in store for you
And all you really have to do
Is find the right playlist that works for you
This is how you cure the winter blues
Aren't you glad I shared the news
About my viewwithme channel on youtube
And all that still awaits you
By Doris Anne Beaulieu
At: https://www.youtube.com/user/Viewwithme
An oversized vintage T-shirt is
My weekend attire or
More like my mainichi attire
My face bare
Exposing an unnamed galaxy of freckles
The bottle of
Cheap combini
Apple sparkling wine
Feelin like a millionaire
A neon highlighter between my lips
A novel in my hand
While the others wait its turn
Lounging around in piles
All over my room
The mismatched mugs
With the coffee or tea
I didn’t finish drinking
Sitting cold
Flipping through different playlists
Am I feelin like the present
Might be better to
Throw it back a little
To the better days
When the places I commuted to were
Not only
My desk chair in the morning
And
My bed at night
Gazing up at the
Skies of my ceilings and walls
To see the stars of impressions
I’ve found light years ago
Will I find other vibrant constellations
That are none like the rest?
I stare at the blank walls
As if I can magically materialize
Somethin
Just a little different somethin
To make the days
Pass a little faster
My scars on my hand are healin
The scars of last summer
Dangerous carelessness
A slip of the hand
A slip of the slicer
A bit of blood but no foul
It was all my mistake of the making
Silly silly mistake
At least I’ve been fortunately given
Given the gift of time
To heal
To grow
And face em front fearlessly
Some days breaking down
In nightmares
With unknown meanings
That cannot be depicted
Some days breaking down
Into grateful laughter
The colors of my nails changing like the
Changing of the seasons
The quiet but solemn translation
From spring to summer
Sakura pink to
Silver scales of mermaid lagoons
Dreamin of the day
To return to sea
The waterfalls of rain
Spraying my windows
The trees bellowing in the wind
Come golden beans of sun
With the cicadas
Announcing the first day of aelin
Opening the curtains to midsummer
The season of magic and fairies
Yet
I stay on my chair
Undisturbed by the chaos
Outside my window
Writing the verses
My heart tells me
To compose
The feelings
That cannot be fathomed
Into stars
The abendrot sun
Sees through my smile in the daylight
The nyctophilic moon
Solemnly watching my
Silent cries at night
They both keep my secrets
As I keep composing
My operas of comedies and tragedies
You should see us move to the beat
with Ciara in the driving seat.
She’s on the stage ready to rock
as on us older ladies she takes stock.
To join our club you have to be
over fifty years old you see.
Our local council’s ideology
To have us interacting socially.
The music is the magic key.
It’s from that time we were
Young and care free.
Be it country and western
or rock and roll we shake a leg
and have a ball.
Ciara’s enthusiasm has us enthralled.
Her playlists and encouraging calls.
She wants us too to sing out loud.
As we kick and step and twirl around.
If there are fitness facility awards
Ciara and Fitness LK deserves applause.
We’re busy all day long with studying and chapter summaries,
we’re stuck in quarantine. Luckily, I like my roommate's company.
We know that we have work to do as prep for upcoming classes,
but we know that it takes more than work to make young lasses happy.
So I talked my roomies into getting, a steak-n-cheese delivery,
instead of working fact-sheets, for our next term chemistry.
Dueling playlists cave-rave from the echos in our suites,
we’re having all the fun we can on opening quarantine week.
Some guys try for invites, like we’re throwing a private wingding,
but those texts go unanswered ‘cause we’re genuinely quarantining.
With the COVID blues proscribed - get that frown right off your face miss,
our studies are on schedule - and it’s time for some serious play !
#university #covid #quarantine #teen
Today I have nothing more to say,
Am only wishing you happy labour day,
To all workers from Nairobi to Homa Bay,
Respect to workers who don't receive a pay,
Yet they volunteer to serve free day by day.
Big up to our beloved journalists,
Salute to designers and all artists,
Who work hard to update our playlists,
Respect to all mentors and sociologists,
Without forgetting poets and therapists.
Respect to engineers and inventors,
Salute to medical workers and doctors,
The entertainment actresses and actors,
Respect to teachers, professors and tutors,
Without forgetting masons and contractors.
WOW! What a jam packed week ahead..
I've no time to rest or sleep.
I'm working 8 hours each day
For the bills I must pay..
And multiple adventures to seek.
I've lost 20 pounds and tried on new dresses..
Shopped for shoes at designer label stores.
A new hair do and facelift to
match..
Oh this new look I just love and adore.
Now I must attend an interview at midday..
And that's in London for heaven's sake!
And finish in time to clock back into work..
That makes for a very busy lunch break.
I have to reconcile my bank statement..
And post letters all over the globe.
Show my face as attending a meeting..
And colour coordinate my new wardrobe.
I've done my weeks grocery shopping..
And caught up with friends via chat.
And now I must search high and low..
For the perfect Melbourne Cup hat.
I won a nice lump sum on lotto..
Shopped again in Paris, London and New York.
Took cooking lessons from the best chefs..
And perfected the crackle on my roast pork.
I listened to bands from all over the world..
Created awesome playlists to attune my ears.
Sought medical advice from a psychiatrist..
About my phobia and horrible fears.
You see I've never left my home..
I have everything here I need to get.
It is all at the leisure of my fingertips..
The wonderful power of the internet.
So living in virtual reality is my life..
I've the best friend who gives constant approval.
I don't need the physical world..
If you don't believe me, then just ask Google!
Yale student radio (wybcx) is playing throughout the suite. I’m working on chemistry problems but when a song I don’t know is good enough to catch my attention, I add it to one of my gazillion Spotify playlists - God, I love the Internet.
One of our roommates, Sophy, is from California. She’s brilliant and friendly but almost never leaves her room, which she keeps hot and airless. If I’m in there for more than two minutes I have to start peeling off layers of clothing, one by one. She didn’t seem this odd last semester. We take turns, mediating between Sophy and the living, picking up her meals and packages, like vampire assistants.
Then there’s a nice but nerdy guy named Andy, who Anna’s adopted. He’s sitting on our deep, red, four cushion corduroy couch, crafting an essay on his laptop. He’s a divinity student who I rely on to answer my deeper religious questions.
“Do you think Jesus went around telling people his mother is a virgin?,” I’d asked.
“Jesus had brothers,” he answered, “Have you ever read the bible?” He asks.
“My bible is Seventeen magazine.” I say, hand to heart.
“Listen to this!” Andy says - a peremptory order to the room - as he begins reading from his paper. “Disruptivist writers who no longer strive for agency, circumventing narrative in order to resemble the fiction construct, risk losing what Robbe-Grillet called the “intelligibility of the world” and themselves illustrate the exhaustion of forms.” Andy paused. “What do you think?” He asked the room.
No-one says anything. No-one ever understands what Andy’s talking about.
Anna and Sunny are studying and sunbathing in the common room like they’re on some kind of permanent holiday. They occupy two generous rectangles of sunlight streaming in through the closed picture windows.
They’re laying on yoga mats, almost shoulder to shoulder, wearing bikinis and Wayfarer Ray-Bans. It’s 12° degrees outside but there’s an oil heater with a fan blowing across it that provides them with a sun-like warmth.
Welcome to higher learning 2022