Poems and more

T split up the roles in America Abridged, so I am one of the three "narrators" plus Minute Man #2, Sergeant, Hitler, and Bush Sr. I think my accents are serviceable. May need to work on Bush a bit more. Memo deadlines are tight (Act 1 is due on Wednesday), but I can handle it.

For Creative Writing I needed to write some poems about defeat/failure/losing. Here they are.

You step onto the stage to deliver
Those famous words, “to be or not to be.”
You know you are ready for this.
You have rehearsed for months on end,
Giving your life to the play
Until you have nothing left.
But now as you open your mouth
Maybe an audience member makes a face,
Or something gets in your eye,
Or one of a million songs revives
And sticks in your brain like a tick.
You lose the words;
The words you knew better than yourself.
Silence stretches for sixty minutes a second.
The audience is waiting;
Any second they will realize what has happened.
Furiously you scramble through your memories
To no avail,
And then you hear the laughter.
First a titter here or there
And then the damning wave of derisive guffaws.
Backstage, Claudius hisses the line furiously,
But it’s too late.
You have ruined the show.
You have ruined yourself.
And you have nothing left.

I stare down the barrel, wondering why this had happened.
What have I done to deserve this? Nothing!
I lived a good life; I made no mistakes.
And now it’s all going to end by the hand of a mugger?
My parents were right when they said, “Life is not fair.”
Did nothing I do matter?
If not, then why him and not myself?
I could have lived as I pleased and ended up the same.
But even as I think these thoughts I realize my failure.
Had I been perfect I would not die like this.
Nobody is perfect, and my imperfection is in the mind
The time has come to pay for my imperfections.

You were always Good, but never The Best.
In such a large world, Good was never enough.
You have practiced this monologue for a week.
You will land the role.
Everyone who has seen it lauds it with cries of,
“Good!” “Nice job!” “Impressive!” “I like it!”
You stride into the theater, a confident grin on your face.
You give your name and the monologue’s title.
You recite, and your practice pays off.
You make no mistakes.
The director can find no fault.
He calls your audition Very Good.
In walks another would-be with the same piece,
And he has practiced for two weeks.
You are Very Good, but he is The Best.
There will always be someone better.

Space out for a measly minute in school
The teacher will see, and you’ll look like a fool
Attend each rehearsal before your debut
But you can be sure that you’ll miss your first cue
Study all night for the big science test
And whatever you read, it covers the rest
The day you forget to look down the road
A car will serve up some roadkill a la mode.
Miss a day of work from your nasty cough
And the boss needs to find a sap to lay off
Struck down by bad fortune sent by the gods
Poor fool, who said you could beat the odds?

When I have the opportunity I will blog the contents of my Death Valley journal. Be ready for a L-O-N-G read when I get it posted.