05-30-2013, 02:38 AM
I requested poetry topics on Reddit one day and someone suggested "music saves lives, and this is what I wrote for them.
P.S. I Primarily write Spoken-Word, so this is kinda meant to be read aloud.
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I have this friend named Jeremy,
He loves music,
he eats and breathes and sees in music,
he has these big old headphones
held together with duct tape and hope,
the bass is broken in them and every once in a while the static gets too big and too bold and it breaks through and fills your ears with its intrusive brain breaking heart shaking random rhythms,
anyway Jeremy takes the train a lot
we live in Chicago so we use trains to get anywhere,
like the veins in you body the trains carry you from where you were to where you are going and they keep the city alive,
and Jeremy likes to listen to music during his commutes,
because he is the kind of guy who is really afraid of confrontation, just like me, and he hates talking to strangers, because he has trouble empathizing with people, and when someone tells him about a problem they had, he cant really feel sorry, and that can often make people mad at him and he hates having people get mad at him because again, he has problems with empathy,
and hes standing on the platform, and hes been feeling bad lately,
he's been having issues with his dad,
Jeremy's always finding issues with his dad,
his dad hits the bottle too much
his dad hits the clubs too much
his dad hits his mom too much
His dad hits him too much
and the evening before Jeremy stood on the platform,
Jeremy lay in his bed,
he had finished his homework late because before he started i had called him and we had gone to the movies,
and as he lay in his bed he heard the familiar sound of a dull roar reaching his ears from downstairs and a thump and a crash
and he lay still, hating,
and he lay his caution aside as he sprinted for the stairs,
he stumbled on the landing but no human force could stop him,
he ran up behind his life-giving, love-taking father
and he pulled at his clothes
and tried his best to stop him from hurting his mom who he could still remember as loving him once,
his father looked up disoriented and reached for the only weapon in reach, the very bottle that started this mess,
he flung the wasted casket at his son and it shattered on his face,
leaving cuts on his cheeks, and a gash in his neck, and a slice in his ear,
Jeremy ran into the street with no shoes on and he bolted to his car,
it had rained earlier so a grinding could be heard as a result of his feet hitting the asphalt,
his father was too lazy to pursue him,
Jeremy sped to the E.R. because he wasn't stupid,
they patched him up
and by the time they were done a glimmer of sun could be seen on the horizon and he walked to the train station and put on his headphones,
he stared at the tracks,
he knew what he had come to the station to do but he had never been the bravest person,
and he just had a hard time picturing himself jumping in front of a train,
he clenched his fist and he could feel the rancid ball in his throat where the hate built up and the tears got caught,
and then a song came on his iPod
it was one of those songs written by like Regina Spektor, or Kate Nash, or some other pretentious artist
and it was one of those songs that you hear every now and then and you can remember the first time you heard it,
and Jeremy remembered that this was the song that made him love music,
then he thought that he loved music,
and that shocked him,
because recently all he had been feeling was hate,
and he sighed
and he smiled
and he got on the train
and he came to my house
and we got high
and we played Mario cart
and he is still alive
P.S. I Primarily write Spoken-Word, so this is kinda meant to be read aloud.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
I have this friend named Jeremy,
He loves music,
he eats and breathes and sees in music,
he has these big old headphones
held together with duct tape and hope,
the bass is broken in them and every once in a while the static gets too big and too bold and it breaks through and fills your ears with its intrusive brain breaking heart shaking random rhythms,
anyway Jeremy takes the train a lot
we live in Chicago so we use trains to get anywhere,
like the veins in you body the trains carry you from where you were to where you are going and they keep the city alive,
and Jeremy likes to listen to music during his commutes,
because he is the kind of guy who is really afraid of confrontation, just like me, and he hates talking to strangers, because he has trouble empathizing with people, and when someone tells him about a problem they had, he cant really feel sorry, and that can often make people mad at him and he hates having people get mad at him because again, he has problems with empathy,
and hes standing on the platform, and hes been feeling bad lately,
he's been having issues with his dad,
Jeremy's always finding issues with his dad,
his dad hits the bottle too much
his dad hits the clubs too much
his dad hits his mom too much
His dad hits him too much
and the evening before Jeremy stood on the platform,
Jeremy lay in his bed,
he had finished his homework late because before he started i had called him and we had gone to the movies,
and as he lay in his bed he heard the familiar sound of a dull roar reaching his ears from downstairs and a thump and a crash
and he lay still, hating,
and he lay his caution aside as he sprinted for the stairs,
he stumbled on the landing but no human force could stop him,
he ran up behind his life-giving, love-taking father
and he pulled at his clothes
and tried his best to stop him from hurting his mom who he could still remember as loving him once,
his father looked up disoriented and reached for the only weapon in reach, the very bottle that started this mess,
he flung the wasted casket at his son and it shattered on his face,
leaving cuts on his cheeks, and a gash in his neck, and a slice in his ear,
Jeremy ran into the street with no shoes on and he bolted to his car,
it had rained earlier so a grinding could be heard as a result of his feet hitting the asphalt,
his father was too lazy to pursue him,
Jeremy sped to the E.R. because he wasn't stupid,
they patched him up
and by the time they were done a glimmer of sun could be seen on the horizon and he walked to the train station and put on his headphones,
he stared at the tracks,
he knew what he had come to the station to do but he had never been the bravest person,
and he just had a hard time picturing himself jumping in front of a train,
he clenched his fist and he could feel the rancid ball in his throat where the hate built up and the tears got caught,
and then a song came on his iPod
it was one of those songs written by like Regina Spektor, or Kate Nash, or some other pretentious artist
and it was one of those songs that you hear every now and then and you can remember the first time you heard it,
and Jeremy remembered that this was the song that made him love music,
then he thought that he loved music,
and that shocked him,
because recently all he had been feeling was hate,
and he sighed
and he smiled
and he got on the train
and he came to my house
and we got high
and we played Mario cart
and he is still alive