The Sample (or The Remix Directive)

(This is a spoken-word piece I wrote about a year and a half ago. It pertains to the world of hip-hop and electronic music, how they can serve as a metaphor for how to view the world, how to change one's attitude or view of reality. Remixing anything one desires, changing one's viewpoint, never letting art or culture die, nor exploiting it, but recycling it in such a way as to pay homage to it as an influence.

Pieces of the world machine,

Often copulate and get copied,

Fragmentary frameworks screwed together,

With bolts and nuts,

Wheels, belts and buttons activate,

Borrowed long enough to duplicate,

Active reactive matter energy,

The sum total of proactive synergy.

The whole is not replicated,

Instead a beast with Non sequitur syndrome,

Is shocked into life and motion,

Sewn and glued together from fragments,

Pinched from bland culture,

Pilfered from pop-sitcom boredom,

Creatively re-constructed and de-socialized,

New form and goal,

Strapped together with digital duct tape,

Allowed to mutate and replicate,

After getting sonic DNA injections,

Re-programmed machines cutting different grooves,

Reverberation emitting different wavelengths,

With new labels beyond aphanumeric Latin.

Loaded with pellets of different palettes,

Of color and mathematical arrangement,

In a fractal flower of musical entertainment,

These contraptions blaze,

International neighborhoods,

Representing global stations,

Shouting proudly the proportions,

Of their re-constituted sonic skeletons,

Majestically recounting past history,

And proclaiming future future,

Breathing out radioactive anthems,

Speaking in blue and silver breaths,

Mutated by funkatronic science experimentation,

Assimilation is disintegrated,

Over-copying achieves absolute static distortion,

The abortion, of unnecessary ordinary repetition,

Sections of new robotic framework glimmer,

Glowing growing newness simmering,

Freshness boiling,

Organic fingers jiving mechanical keyboards,

Sending organic notes floating,

Warheads of emotion detonate,

In the lower atmosphere of concentration,

Sowing seeds of fresh creation,

Signaling the pulse of culture revolution,

Concrete existence gets digitally distorted,

Cyclic organic pathways are deviated,

Normalized meat-boxes cease the circulation,

Clunking into each other abruptly,

And ceasing the dirty altercations.

Mutation and alternation are introduced,

And the people start to turn on,

They tune in the beauty of difference,

De-phase their static boundaries,

Reboot their core systems,

Upload flowing electronic rivers of sound,

Emitted by splice-robot cyborg soldiers,

On decks and keyboards folding time,

Redirecting the energy of rhythm and rhyme,

Summoned from funk junk-piles and galactic garages,

Stagnated barges of forgotten pop lore,

Past lives are sampled,

Breaks and loops are broken and re-directed,

Elemental currents are shared and re-reflected,

And all these new arrangements,

Are collectively collected,

In the flowing motions of groove commotion,

The number of weaving arms is ample,

Channeling the new example,

The sample, and all its analog and electric brothers.