A Poetry Reading

The lights go dim as I take the stage. Center stage. The spotlight is so bright I can only see the silhouettes of the people in the crowd. I hear the shuffling of feet and hushed murmurs from people trying to squeeze in their last bit of conversation.

*clears throat*

The show is about to start.

*unwraps piece of paper*

*checks mic*

Hello. Testing. 1 2 3

Hello? ... Hello?

*a hush falls over the crowd*

Thank you.

*clears throat again*

I have prepared for you, today, a few Haikus. They're about things that have been on my mind lately. You know, I have been dealing with a lot--trying to recover from my past childhood trauma. Also been reading a lot about irrigation and bird migration, so. Anyway, thank you for taking the time to listen. And as always, may God be with you.

*the crowd, in response* "And also with you."

Amen. So, this first one doesn't have much of a subliminal message. I was just sitting on a boat one day, saw a bunch of seagulls, and got inspired.

Birds flying away.

They are dancing in the wind.

Poo flies from the sky.

*a few snaps*

Please don't snap for that. It was about bird discharge. In fact, if you all could hold your snaps until the end, that'd be great, thanks.

*dying snaps*

Thank you.

I call this one, The Foundation of America.

Gooey. Fresh. And brown.

Turns farmer's frown upside-down.

Thank you, manuare.

*awkward silence*

*whispers* And thank you, Farm Bureau.

Okay, this one goes out to that one kid who pulled my hair in fourth grade.

Thanks for nothing, dink.

I couldn't sleep for a week.

I am still hurting.

This poem is about high school.

I found myself there,

In those cold brick walls only

to learn I was wrong.

I'd like to dedicate this one to cock roaches that live in my bathroom, but there isn't actually cock roaches. It's a metaphor for never-ending, self-depreciating thoughts. The cock roaches are the thoughts, my head is the bathroom, and the Raid is my therapist.

I just can't kill you.

Where do you hide? I bought Raid.

How are you still there?

*someone coughs*

Uhh, I'd like to dedicate this one to my lover.

Oh, how sweet is love?

But your breath smells of garlic,

And it's kinda hot.

Okay, now for a little change of pace. This one isn't a Haiku. It's just a simple poem about my childhood. I hope it resonates with you.

*dramatic pause*

And I hope it helps you heal.

I sat on the swing alone smoking my cigarette.

Life's tough, learning the alphabet.

Kindergarten, man, but little did I know

that the sun would not shine over the places I go.

Flash forward to sixth grade, bullies on my neck.

I had to drop out. I never will forget.

Those words stung and cut like a knife.

Ugh, the wounds from middle school strife.

So I left middle school and went out on my own.

I embarked on a journey, wrote many a song.

I told myself that I wouldn't come back until I had made a name for myself.

It was only a few weeks before I lost my health.

I went a lot of places and saw a lot of cocaine.

And I couldn't come back until I learned attain

the respect and the love I so desired.

I was 12, and oh, so tired.

I hadn't finished my journey before I had to go home.

My sister said so over the phone.

When I came home after taking the road less traveled,

My parents told me their marriage had unraveled.

Everything worked like clockwork after that.

New house. New family. Even a new cat.

And again, I went a blowing in the wind.

Oh, oh, oh, I only wanted a friend.

Fourteen with twenty boyfriends.

Spent my twenties in several dens.

Flash forward decades, and nothing has changed.

Sex, drugs, and money, were the things I tried to attain.

Now I find myself back at the park.

Funny how you always find yourself back at the start.

Only now I was hitting a juul.

I had only wanted to be cool.

But look where it got me?

Seventy-five, alone and free?

I didn't want that. I wanted the key

to a city or at least to my heart.

I hadn't figured out how to open it,

still didn't know where to start.

How do you learn who you are when you're hiding yourself?

How do you read a book if it sits on the shelf?

How do you read when you never learned how to read?

How do you love if your heart's full of greed?

Then, I saw it, out of the corner of my eye,

A a pair of wings taking to the sky.

A red-tail hawk flying south for the winter.

The bird was so beautiful, looking for a critter.

It didn't ask questions. It didn't ask why.

That bird was just happy it could fly.

It got me thinking, you know, humans are the only ones who need reasons.

We freak out if we can't tell the seasons.

That's when I realized, the answer I had been searching for had been there all along.

If a bird could sing without ever hearing a song,

How would it know it was wrong?

Society had created the rules for me to follow.

They were the ones who made me go hollow.

So with gusto and might, I dropped my Juul on the ground.

I was done with it. I didn't need it around.

I was never addicted to the nicotine. I was addicted to the breaks.

But they were only an excuse to shield me from heartache.

Today, I decide to start a new quest.

You're never too old to do your best.

I need to know who I am and understand my worth.

It was the thing I had been looking for since birth.

I want to show my friends who they forgot.

Prove to myself I'm not an afterthought.

And in twenty years when I'm sitting in my hover craft, I thought,

talking to my grandkids cause humans now live forever,

I was going to tell them about my endeavors.

I was going to tell them how at seventy-five, I learned who I am.

And no, I'm not a hologram.

I'm not a writer.

A dancer, doctor, or fighter.

I'm not a pilot.

A musician or cross-country biker. (Thank God)

No, I'm not any of these things, and neither are you.

So here is the answer, if you haven't got a clue.

I am soul. My body is only a keeper.

I am loved. And I want to love deeper.

*standing (snapping) ovation*

Oh, thank you, everyone. You're too kind, really. Thank you.

*The house lights turn on*

Where did everybody go?

(The sound woman) "They left after the cock roach thing."

But the snaps?

"Sound effect."

Oh.

Do you wanna grab a burg--?

"No."

Okay. Bye--.

*door slams*

I sigh as I stare at the empty room.

This must be what it's like in a tomb.

Alone. Cold. And filled with formaldehyde.

There is no place to hide.

(The janitor) "Hey, are you done? I need to lock up."

*is startled*

Oh, yes. Sorry. I didn't realize I was talking to myself.

"Well, you better stop talking in rhymes before people think you're crazy."

Oh, you silly old geezer, they already think I'm deranged.

Don't you know what it's like when people think you're strange?

At first, it's hard, but then you find your tribe.

Now I have friends I don't have to bride.

You see--.

"Please leave."

Yeah, you got it.