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this is a teen space opera

by Willard



A taxidermy bear with a Christmas wreath
around its neck sits near the front door.
For some reason, I don't expect it
whenever I enter the house,
but closing my eyes
is enough to keep me safe.


Table talk about the intangibility of motivation
wastes thirty minutes extra because apparently,
"you can't lie to yourself" while taking a poll
about standardized testing.


Their rambling is math rock chords
with a few misplaced strings,
and apparently taking dinner up to my room
isn't appropriate.
"Stupid dumb teenage angst
from a stupid dumb teenager".


Thanks, mom,
you were the one who told me
life was pointless too.
But that's whatever.


Nothing slips from my mouth
as I head to my room.



Homeless men sing Radiohead
while I browse the internet
and constantly tap my desk.
"Being bored means you're angry"
waiting for time to unravel,
become undone like a Weezer song
done to death.


I scroll through
my social network feed.
"Yungins dont hav 2 regret nything".


Yeah, well, we all have shame.
I haven't sold my virgin body and soul
but my words and thoughts flow fluently,
making fun of fluorescent light and tear
filled nights people have witnessed,
or those who disappointed their parents
by wanting to grow up fast.


Yet it's pretty bad I don't regret it.
Poor actions make you a poor person,
not remarks. Indulgence from God,
let's cheer
by making me push off homework
one last night and say sorry
as much as possible.


I comment "lol",
let everybody know how ridiculous it is,
and head to bed.



This girl stares at me,
after professing her hatred for me
nineteen hundred times.
People don't understand
"K" doesn't end arguments
on a friend's status
about underage drinking.
Say that I don't have friends,
when I have a moderate amount.
Whatever floats your boat.


Halfway through Drama,
an improv Dating Game takes place.
Contestant #2 plays an old British lady,
and nails it, until she says
"Oh, I'm South African"
when she was asked
if she was a Brit.


"Yeah, so you're British!"
the class goes quiet.
Didn't know she was from there.


My day ends quickly
because I don't quite understand sensitivity,
so I'm sorry
I guess?



Phone Yahtzee consumes my time
while I wait outside,
a slight chill present.


We start walking down the street,
jokes about summer and tests,
things long past.
I explain my kink for drowning,
because it would be cool
just to kick yourself out there on a plastic board
and know that you're surrounded by nothing.
And that you're soon going to die,
but I don't like that part.
They don't either.


It's weird that we can talk about anything,
yet knowing how crap everything is.
I keep my eyes low the remainder of the time,
but I can't quite close them.
Awkward silence backs up
this freestyle of voice.






for lying about being sorry.
I have a lot of nerve
but it's whatever.
One can only say so many
things to excrete dominance
all over me so I look like
something from a kid eating plastic,
it's insane.
And it's weird because I can't sit alone
and just unreasonably crap on myself anymore,
it feels good.
A very beautiful butterfly
that feels great yet I'm
scared of time
and moving
and life,
but it's whatever.
Always was."


I follow this with more rants
and thoughts
about not thinking.


We follow this with dry laughs
and a walk around the park.




it's funny to hold things without hands,
or, better yet,
running into the house and high fiving a bear
while hustling up to the room
and listening to the same old music
backed up by birds chirping
since I finally opened my window
after three months.
I thought it was time to find courage
to enjoy myself and life,
and think
not about friends or insecurity
or motivation or happiness,
but the fact that
I have let three birds into the house.

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User avatar
79 Reviews

Points: 250
Reviews: 79

Sat Dec 19, 2015 9:02 pm
Sevro wrote a review...

Hi Stranger, Caterpickle here. You obviously have a lot of skill, a natural sort of...professional air to your writing. And not just this poem, but all the pieces I have read, but they aren't like puzzle pieces, because they don't add up to a certain genre of a writer. Everything you write is different, showing so much skill in so many different areas.

I really liked this poem because it showed all the aspects of a teenager's life, and I can completely relate to a lot of this. Thea is also why I didn't love it. It was too long for my loving. It wasn't too long in the sense that it seemed like you were just writing to write, no. It was just to long. Could you have condensed it? I'm not sure. I'm not a poet myself, but I'm sure there is a way to shorten it.

I really liked the very last line that you wrote: "I have let in five birds so far". I have no clue what you are referring to, but it made me think for a while, so I liked it. It was clever, obviously too clever for some of us.:)

I also liked how you brought the bear back at the end. It made the whole poem seem like it made a full circle, which is good. It gave it a sense of finality and calmness. I know, as an avid reader, these are beneficial feelings to have after finishing reading a poem, especially one as long as this one. It makes them think that they didn't read all that just for nothing.

There were no grammatical errors that I could find on the second read through, but I'm not sure how I felt about the formatting. I think you could have went without the Roman numerals. The bold labeling was tolerable, but the Roman numerals confused me on the true meaning of this poem. You are talking about teenagers and their complicated loves at first, but then you throw in the Roman numerals, and I was under the impression that teenagers have a certain dislike for such numerals. But maybe I'm misunderstanding.

Anyway, great job, Stranger. This poem was worth the length!


Willard says...

The Roman numerals are there because it's shaped like an opera of sorts, the numerals marking scenes.

Sevro says...

Oh ok, wow, I probably should have seen that^^. Thanks! Great work:)

User avatar
396 Reviews

Points: 27
Reviews: 396

Sat Dec 19, 2015 6:21 am
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Pompadour says...

Is that a double entendre in the last line? Because if it is, I laughed.

Willard says...

What is the double entrendre?

User avatar
624 Reviews

Points: 3571
Reviews: 624

Sat Dec 19, 2015 5:07 am
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Casanova wrote a review...

Heya, Strange. We've talked about poems and other things before, but I never have reviewed anything by you. Anyway, here goes me TRYING to review someone with enough apparent skill to wash me out, but oh well.

Well, first off, I can say that I really loved this poem. You can SERIOUSLY relate to this poem in many ways. Especially,"This girl stares at me,
after professing her hatred for me
nineteen hundred times."
I really love those lines, because of personal and technical reasons. I mean, almost everyone has been through something like that. It sucks, and doesn't make sense.
The first criticism is that the first part isn't understandable to myself. I could be the only one, though.
Next is the ending."I thought it was time to find courage to bear-hug myself, and think not about friend or insecurity or motivation or happiness, but the fact that I have let five birds in so far."
Now, I could be wrong, but I took,"birds," as a reference to people. Letting them into your life, and I loved that metaphor.
Lastly- It really didn't have a flow. I can do without the rhyming(Which it didn't.) But, in most spots it went on too long, or it cut off to early. That's.. A big part of poetry. I really enjoyed this poem, and I hope you post more soon.
Sincerely- MatthewAaron.

Willard says...

Is there a double entendre

The man who never makes a mistake always takes orders from one who does.
— Anonymous