Wake up into nothingness
Your mind an empty slate
Picture a screen that’s colorless –
a black/white palette
No knowledge of what’s right or wrong
No conscience to be heard
No guilty feeling to go along
You see, you hear, yet fathom, nought
The world around you blear
Yet I, I see it very clear
Its fraught with chaos, dear
O Newborn, would you be so kind
To grant me an exchange?
O, give me your Blank State of Mind
For this world’s made me deranged!
Let’s skip the first few parts –
the cheesy lines that weren’t smart,
discounted gifts right from the start –
’cause, honey, we’ve fallen apart
Yet still, you haunt me in my dreams
Oh yes, you make me want to scream
(No, not in bed, you were too selfish)
I can’t believe we thought of marriage!
Just like a poem without a rhyme
Loving you was just a crime
You are the Epitome of Bullshit
Breaking your promises lickety-split!
You pull me in
with your beautiful smooth black skin.
Hard as an almond and
cool on the outside and
yet inside lurks an – OH! – a surprise!
Inside I learn of your warmth –
a texture of caramel stickiness.
A balance of milky sweetness
and peanut saltiness
so irresistible, I take all of you in.
But I’m always left wanting more always left feeling thirsty always left feeling hungry.
I should know better
But I always come back for more
“Snickers Satisfies” is nothing but a lie.
This poem I wrote is a summary of the events in Albert Camus’ absurdist fiction novel, The Stranger, written in the point of view of the main character, Meursault.
So today my Maman died
But cry, I did not even try
Because it did not really matter
We all die, one way or another
So today my boss had asked
”Work in Paris?” I answered fast
“No, it does not really matter”
One life is as good as another
So today Marie proposed
To marry her, I did not oppose
I think it would not really matter
Even though I do not love her
So today I killed a man
To shoot or not shoot, I know I can
I did not think that it would matter
If the day’s harmony, I shatter
So today I am in trial
”Odd behavior makes him hostile
For he did not mourn his mother—
He’s a murderer. He’s a monster!”
So today I will be dead
Grant this wish I have unsaid:
A crowd of viewers, I’ll await
Have them greet me with cries of hate