I first wrote this poem in 2007 in my first semester of college. The draft was the first time someone in a collegiate academic setting told me I should consider being a professional poet. I’ve never succeeded in publishing it, but those words still encourage me. Listen to your friends – let them be the voices in your head when you desperately need them.
We Are Nothing
we are nothing, but nothing – razor-edged souls cutting through time with a steely gasp of twilight before our instant sunset, packaged in a plastic microwavable container with a label stating, “just add water” we a single individual with many minds and parts – societal schizophrenia on a rampage. perhaps the voice of muscle spasm can sear through your tyranny, as you have trapped creativity and youth in oppression, tearing them from their families as though they were meant to be institutionalized with bars on the windows and locks on the doors. Keep faith, children! For there is always an alternative route grasping for a mind that could fathom his existence. Outside the window is a world darkened by a starless reality, yet lit by polluting city lights. Red, Green, Blue Straining for that chance to say, “Coca-Cola” in Times Square. But this – this is nothing.
Please feel free to comment your personal experiences openly and freely below- I reserve the comments section for that.
Sometimes we wonder Why we keep calling the same number When the telephone rings Until we return the phone to the receiver Maybe someday Our Father will answer And laugh as He says “I’ve been waiting for your call all week”
I recognize that “Until we return the phone to the receiver” calls out my age and the year this poem was written.
I cannot pretend to know or understand what your experiences have been. If you connected with this poem, the comments section is for you to share your thoughts and/or experiences.I am grateful to anyone that chooses to share – I make that space for you.Thank you for taking the time to read this poem today.
This is an experimental piece I’ve played around with since its first draft in 2015. Since then it morphed into what it is now and I decided that it was time to throw it out into the world for some feedback. My editor didn’t have much to provide, so maybe others can help?
The initial idea:
How can I tell a story from the perspective of something that would normally not be given the benefit of thought and perception?
How would a house try to communicate with its occupants?
I had to make certain decisions that frustrated me, such as the house being able to read and understand English. This introduced a supernatural element that, while I am already pushing things by talking about a house capable of thought and perception, seemed a bit too farfetched.
Another thing that frustrated me about this piece: the house’s existential crisis.
What are your thoughts on the piece? Do you have feedback?
Thank you so much for taking the time to read my work and I hope you have a wonderful rest of your day!