Table Of Contentthe number one
best-selling
epic poetry book
on amazon dot com
dimitri karakostas
The #1 Bestselling Epic Poetry Book on Amazon Dot Com
Dimitri Karakostas
“So, uh - what’s the deal with that book? That new thing?”
“Uh, well - it’s uh - it’s like - a megamix poem. A greatest hits poem. It’s two
books edited together into one long poem. The two books that were
supposed to come out via that SF publisher, yeah. I kinda edited them
together into one epic poem. It’s long, right? It repeats itself a little bit but it’s
supposed to - like, you can start or end it anywhere. It’s a remix.”
http://thenumberonebestsellingepicpoetrybookonamazondotcom.online/
alexa, i’ve given you all and now i am nothing
before i attend a reading,
i google 24hour teeth whitening solutions
i worry about which shoes to wear
since i’ll be spending my time staring at my feet
better match my swoosh to my tie
i imagine reading my poems
while the song from sonic 1’s green hill zone
plays softly in the background
before i attend a reading
i listen to songs about you baby
i saw the best minds of my generation
googling their names obsessively
broke, disappointed, anxious
endless scrolling through instagram at dawn
looking for the right meme for the group chat
rule 12. anything you say can and will be used against you.
rule 13. anything you say can be turned into something else.
rule 21. original content is original only for a few seconds before
getting old.
rule 22. copy ‘n paste is made to ruin every last bit of originality.
rule 23. copy ‘n paste is made to ruin every last bit of originality.
rule 24. every repost is always a repost of a repost.
rule 82. nobody tells the truth on the internet
meme baiting poetry
ready made poetry
opportunistic expression poetry
i’m sorry i love you poetry
trying to not smoke poetry
“passive aggressive text messages”
poetry
i refuse to give up my obsession
i felt most like a poet when i was writing the word “poet”
on walls wherever with white out
because
my poetry is repeating itself
alexa, always tip 20% january 11th 2020
alexa, play despacito
dm me for my premium poetry snapchat
i’m always picking people’s pockets with my prose
when can i go into the supermarket and buy what i need
with my clever observations and wordplay
alexa, after all it is you and i who are perfect not the next world
working class creative non-violent criminals live forever
my mind is made up, there’s going to be trouble
alexa, is this correct?
alexa, my poetry is repeating itself
i’m with you in a one-bedroom apartment
where we hug and kiss the dog
under our bedsheets
the united states of our dog
that barks all night
and wont let us sleep
i am talking to myself again
my first poem
was me crying when i was born
and the best criticism i could receive
was the the doctor slapping me
consequence based poetry
opposing direction
as an omen
reduced to
‘lie down and sleep,’
maybe
cry about it
allow my future punishments
to be discreet
since we are hysterical about the future
addressing luxury
by showering twice a day
insurance.aes256
should the proof reveal itself as
being spectacular
a coffee stain that resembles
mother mary magdalene
if you squint
webmd says
weird discolored bruise like spot
under my eye
is cancer
and i should probably
see a licensed medical professional
i close the tab and google
david lynch transcendental meditation
tips and tricks
24 hour
non-stop
commodifiable
people
nous nous devons à la mort
we owe ourselves to death
‘a stupid person’
my problem is that i put class war before the other concerns.
working class theatre
dressing down
co-opting vintage
even bars are ruined
i’m not describing gentrification
ataraxia,
the absence of trouble
the urge to run away to the east coast and live a ‘simple life’
is as strong as the desire to stay here
various forms of fate, i’m saying
my image must persist
by using an abstraction
to hide the motive
a commune of books and house records
efficacy,
memory
freedom isn’t free,
they tell me
the tendency towards the total artwork
as beautiful as ever
utopia,
meaning ‘no-place’
doing nothing detox
cynical obsessions
your
windowsill-gazing
flower-pot
poetry
as virtue
the algorithm
in today’s terms
something vulgar
i cannot stop the machine
so,
instead,
i buy nikes
and complain
‘the greatest art is to endure’
you write the world different
when you’re in love
this,
the original
nude-descending-a-staircase
if i’m speaking directly
stabbing syntax because
i’m tired
or because that’s
the tone of my voice
i’m too disinterested
to live like a dog
and admit it
vanishing into an office job
in an industrial landscape
with rain on the glass
looks like it’s CGI to me
still, it’s easier to think of
sierra nevada
as a universally accepted
‘better place’
though i’ve never been there
but the city name
sounds warm
i could paint the landscapes
of sierra nevada
and label it as
self-care
i’d probably wind up in a hotel
knowing me
winding up
somewhere shitty
my ideal location
is a city
built on a fault line
or
a city that could be swallowed
by it’s surrounding body of water
a city that loves baseball and drugs
foggy, raining, indoor cities
even my fantasies
betray me
epistaxis,
a nose bleed
arguing the scale and
the necessity of change
‘small is beautiful,’
allegedly
with a massive pool of resources
working together
as an unbalanced equation
because there is no
equal work
classifying,
to classify
