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Message to Readers

This poem is a lot! I'd love some feedback on how well I covered the subjects and my speaking voice. Along with general things like form. Check the footnotes if you're missing some context :)

The World, Fallen

June 7, 2020


Like a beauty pageant, walking into class to flaunt the folds of my brain
-My female grey matter with disregard for my female body-
Entering after me, in athleisure, looking like a try-hard butch in that snapback
Greasy hair parted to show Adenosine receptors stuffed with Caffeine
The jitter of his thigh in joggers proved he was more of a coder than me
But in fourth period it was my time to let the class tour my mindscape
We raced to the starting line, and he beat me worth a handshake
Informing the group about the quietest history I’d ever heard.
Russia is a one bear winter-* my words, he doesn’t believe in metaphor
An entire government resigned, pulled a Washington and went home
To sit in the shade of a birch tree, condemned to layman’s worry, 
Not a month after our president falls in his own house. Or, rather, gets pushed.**

History is a hard-love romance, Eur/Asia, ten understudies deep
but now both leads wiped out on the world stage, curtains open
And we’re too busy fumbling for the script, fact-checking and citing sources
To step onstage and propose a bad plan A and good plan B.

Not me, I had a reputation to uphold, I couldn't lose to a half-zip windbreaker,
No matter how good his jaw. My hand shot up before my head
I pulled something witty out my ear, got laughs, weird stares
and extra points for bribing the judges with bread and hand-written notes.***
He and I were on stage, back center, a place I’d been before, a home to me.
I was the actor, but he wore all black****, something in me realized, unwillingly,
That if I wanted the spotlight he had to point it at me. And if he wanted to act?
Well then I had to stop counting points, start spitting nonsense,
And teach something or another about being human.*****

By 7th he stood over my shoulder and didn’t get an elbow at the waist
Four hands flew at my computer screen and still didn’t solve the problem.

Kids can’t perform in that golden theatre, don’t want to 
-A plots been building since before our grandparents-
But by our own ambition, the purple stage on which we stand is conquered
Russia is one bear winter, now, but youth is a class of thousands.
So much is going on in this poem that I might have to explain:

*The whole Russian government resigned and nobody really talked about it:

**Nobody in america really cares because trump was being impeached:

*** Yes, I happened to bring in bread and handwritten notes that day to thank a few of my classmates who had worked with me in a competition and my teacher, I didn't actually do it for "points" but you know, poetry. Also I made a really bad joke and half the class groaned but I don't remember what it was.

****Theater techs and stagehands where all black as a uniform.Yes, I do act. No, he does not act, nor is he a tech.

***** as hard as it is to believe, he is a human being, though he often says he likes computers more than people.

And for more personal context, this is about my friend Austin, who isn't on WTW, posted with his full knowledge and permission (he thinks the poem is funny). We didn't get along at first because he's a bit of a jerk-- He will admit to that so I'm allowed to say it-- but he's really good at code which is what I'm studying and I'm good at every other subject so we help each other out. I wrote this poem for three reasons 1. That Russia thing is crazy 2. I was mildly upset I had befriended him 3. I wanted to roast him


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  • June 7, 2020 - 2:45pm (Now Viewing)

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1 Comment
  • And_The_Stars_Laughed

    Wow!! I can't express how much I love this!! All of the little details really make it interesting and fun to read, and the last line really struck me!!!! :)

    5 months ago