Listen.
The Universe, more or less,
is eight miles from home;
parts, anyway.
And twenty miles from lost sleep
It does not look very interesting.
Shloka Shankar, 2016
First lines of chapters from
Slaughterhouse-Five, by Kurt Vonnegut
Remixed Poetry
Milk Without Honey
1
Do cows
get excited?
Their knees
don’t look
like they can
handle all
the jumping.
2
People also ask:
Do ants eat each other?
Do ants make a sound?
3
They weren’t cows
inside. They were
waiting to be, but
they forgot. Now
they see sky, and
they remember
what they are.
Howie Good, 2016
Remixed Works:
Do Cows Get Excited?, on Reddit
Credo
Sun on the horizon
letter from a yellow cherry blossom
I focus on that
which interests me
This world
the concretization
of these things
flying around me
a small largeness
like happiness
Howie Good, 2016
Remixed Works:
Translated titles of films by Naomi Kawase
Life Is A Sexually Transmitted Condition
Your smile will tell you
what makes you feel good.
Don’t panic. The best
year-round temperature
is a warm heart
and a cool head.
It could be better,
but it’s good enough.
Shloka Shankar, 2016
Remixed work:
Fortunes from fortune cookies
[Single Everywhere]
Single everywhere.
Digest that statement for a second.
Even my oceanic fucks are not given.
The information passed in a cultural fashion accumulates in the form of knowledge and tradition, but the stress of this definition is on the mode of transmission of the information, rather than its result.
No one is ever really quite sure what to make of you, which manifests throughout each day as a multitude of polite, awkward smiles from strangers.
Was that inappropriate.
Fine feathers make fine birds.
It’s not rocket surgery.
I only want sympathy in the form of you crawling into bed with me.
John Lowther, 2016
Algorithmic approach:
Text Analytics
Remixed works:
“Digest that…” & “Even my oceanic fucks…”, genderbitch blog’s Words and Offense
“The information passed…”, by John Tyler Bonner, Margaret La Farge, in The Evolution of Culture in Animals
“No one is ever…”, by Bi-Gender Idealism blog, in Thanks David
“I only want sympathy…”, by Fall Out Boy
[It's Impossible to Ignore Them]
It’s impossible to ignore them.
People with penises that is.
Click here to start download.
The class falls deathly silent.
We live with barriers intact.
We don’t like it here.
Set me free little girl.
My will has chosen life.
Glad you had the time.
She stares right through me.
Teenagers — adapt or die.
Moral perversion comes in steps.
It really, really, desperately does.
We always joked about this.
Your tells are so obvious.
I eat with my eyes.
My heart will go on.
We gotta take it out.
Let it be a secret.
Your submission will come up eventually.
John Lowther, 2016
Algorithmic approach:
Text Analytics
Remixed works:
“It’s impossible to…” , Caroline Siede’s Female heroes are even more important for boys than girls
“The class falls…”, Mighty Ducks fan fiction
“Set me free…”, by The Kinks
“Teenagers…”, by Katniss for Senate, 2016.
“Moral perversion…”, by solitaryroad
“It really, really…”, freethoughtblogs’ Fourth Wave: Part Two
“Your tells…”, Against Me!’s Trangender Dysphoria Blues
[Yes, Miss Snake]
Yes, Miss Snake.
I was eaten by God.
Insignificant.
You just hate it.
There is no ‘me’.
Do as you’re told.
That’s big game.
The doors closed.
Go bite a pillow.
I was a tickle top.
To better myself.
It would be easy.
The brave words.
My humor is my own.
It’s an illusion.
And now you know.
The jungle wins.
What a surprise.
You were my life.
It’s not too late.
Stop resisting.
I want to be seen.
It’s there all the time, driving me out to wander the streets, following me,
silently, but I can feel it there.
Save it sunshine.
I’ve seen enough.
John Lowther, 2016
Algorithmic approach:
Text Analytics
Remixed works:
“Yes, Miss Snake.”, by Mr. I-Don’t Smile, on Wattpad
“Go bite a pillow.”, by IMUS in the Morning
“I was a tickle top.”, John Water’s A Dirty Shame, Tony the Tickler (Michael Willis)
“It’s there all the time…”, Fritz Lang’s M, Hans Beckert (Peter Lorre)
Chirping Bird Soundtrack (Remastered)
Time is totally nuts, paper in the wind,
yet none of which soar, so it seems
like nothing is happening. But, of course,
I’m physically older. That’s the point!
What happened was that rather than wilting
over a period of time, the roses exploded
at a certain point, releasing birds and chirping
and slowly dissolving into frightened dust.
Howie Good, 2016
Remixed Works:
Hyperallergic 1
Hyperallergic 2
Why Working on Yourself Won’t Work
You want to find
that one thing
that defines you,
the ball floating
in the air, but it’s
not like that.
Sometimes
you only need
a couple things,
and other times
you need one hundred.
You might think
you are awful
when you finish,
an empty interior,
the Black Dragon.
There are tons
of philosophers
and thinkers
who have some
sophisticated answer
about why.
I don’t think
it should matter,
one way
or the other
I’m looking
at what they are
looking at.
It was a room
I spent time in
as a child.
Howie Good, 2016
Remixed Work:
Hyperallergic
Donald Trump Won’t Leave Us Alone
I like to walk around with a friend and a granola bar.
Today I was punched in the face by a man
who got out of his car and yelled, “Trump 2016!”
Four small pink alligators are still missing.
Theoretically, I love the fact that cities
from all over the world are under one roof.
Point your camera at the world around you.
I just want to sit and play guitar to my goldfish.
Howie Good, 2016
Remixed Works:
Hyperallergic 1
Hyperallergic 2