Honest Poem – Moral Boy [VEDA #3]

(A/N: an attempt to compose a poem out of dialogue. Quotes are taken from an actual person that I know.)

“I want a girlfriend so badly.”
A void of loneliness will never fade.
“Is it worth talking to this girl if you’re not going to date them?”
It is not worth talking to them. Because you are not worth talking to.
“Don’t you look at every woman and just choose whether or not you’d date them?”
I do not dare to assume anything. I have my flaws, and I do not judge theirs.

“You shouldn’t disrespect the Bible. Every Adam has an Eve, and you shouldn’t be alone.”
If I had to choose between perpetual solitude and your company, I would be lonely.
“Ohhh shit! You need to sabotage their relationship, bro, you totally have a chance.”
Do Christians not believe in loyalty and trust? Or is that just you?

“You’re not thinking like a father.”
I pray you will never be a father.
“I’m not transphobic, but I do not want those people in the bathroom with my daughter.”
She’s in more danger with you than she is with one of them.
“That’s just my point of view, as a Christian.

Honest Poem – Retrospect

You remember a time
when the second hands moved too slowly
There was a time
when the bell could not have rung any later
And you loved the time
where you could run in the green grass
with a smile in your wind-tossed hair
and a song stuck on repeat.

She remembers a time
when she saw the most beautiful births
There was a time
when she saw your face dawn as the circuit clicked
And she loved the time
with the boat surfing the waves of your imagination
on the open sea, entirely free.

I remember the time
when this was all still real.
There was a time
when there were twenty different open doors
And I long for the time
when we could all choose one to walk through
Together.

Honest Poem – Sunscreen

It smells like kindergarten.
warmth of a mother,
jubilant laughter as the sun
immerses but never burns.

It feels like melted butter
rubbed onto a frying pan before
hissing batter
snakes its way into a cake.

And you look at the child
reading about gingerbread boys
on that first day
tucked between two parents.

And you wish that they recognized you.

Honest Poem – Pudding

Cliff’s edge bites at my soles
I’m looking for some footing
trying to walk before I dance
Listen for the tick-tick of a clock
to give myself a chance

To steady, steady, thread the needle
to calm the storm, angry black clouds of
“You cannot leave us” and “How could you do this”.

Like a child’s arrhythmic toddle
towards the reassuring cool
of chocolate pudding, the sweet
and the smooth, I stumble towards
peace.

But then I remember what I deserve
And the smooth blankets become unforgiving stone
And the house becomes a cardboard box
And everyone is a specter- especially me.

The forest is no place for a child
Like I have no place in the crowd of
happy chatting people. I can run,
but the cliff will give way
to the gaping maw of my mistakes.

Derek Walcott and Creepy Poetry

My Spanish professor may not be the best teacher, but he is one of the sweetest dudes I know.

So naturally, when he walks into class nine minutes late (which isn’t exactly irregular, he’s been late before) with a mournful look on his face (which is irregular, since he’s normally quite chipper), we ask what’s going on.

Chicos,” he tells us, “the world’s greatest poet passed away today.” He goes onto tell us about Derek Walcott and his revolutionary poetry for five minutes before opening up PowerPoint to a listening exercise. His mouse hovers over and threatens to start playing the obnoxious opening to the fictional “Blablabla” podcast, which will spout useless drivel that we’ll parrot back in some way, shape or form.

Yo odio el podcast.” His sneer is tinted with contempt. It’s then that a student chooses to pipe up and ask the professor what his favorite poem is. He then proceeds to spend another ten minutes searching for a readable version of the poem while I just sit and watch him desperately search.

And then- it appears- right in that sweet spot right before one is about to give up and return to classwork and right after the ineptitude stopped being funny.

The Light of the World is about the speaker of the poem encountering (and silently falling in love with) a beautiful woman on a bus. The professor talks about how beautiful and pure the feelings are, and the poem’s well-written.

And yet… it’s kind of creepy.

Because the poem’s admirably descriptive up until it gets kinda weird (from my POV). “Powerful and sweet odours?” Nooooooo thank you, fam.

“Don’t tell me that you haven’t found someone so beautiful that you fell in love at first sight?” The professor implored to our silent (and probably dead inside) class. “That you could see an entire life with them?”

“Daniel, por favor.”

I could only respond with a noncommittal “ehhhhh.”

Because let’s be honest for a second here, friends, I haven’t even planned what my next meal is gonna be, much less my entire life.

At any rate, silly little story for y’all. Cheers!