WOW, the first term of my school year has definitely whizzed on by, and it’s already nearing CHRISTMAS (Don’t worry, I’ll definitely be writing more on that later on, but for now Happy Holidays!). I guess my determination to continue this blog hasn’t been very, well, determined. I hope I haven’t lost my readers. Well, the 2 readers I probably had in the first place. If you’re like me though, you probably would’ve checked every weekend, frantically hoping to see a flash of a new post. Anyway, I’ll be writing more later, but for now…
*This was a pre-written post from aaaages ago, I just found it today, and thought I might post it.
Woot! It’s the third week of school officially, and it’s been really great! There’s definitely many, many of you out there for which the beginning of the school year is a pain, but none of that with me. I’ve landed myself some great teachers, not to mention finally getting rid of my pain-in-the-neck math teacher from last year and a GREAT drama class! So what’s up in the second week? Well nothing other than my favorite event ever—POETRY SLAM!!! Okay, so it’s not exactly a large-scale open mic night like I’d hoped for, but some beanbag seats in a secluded corner of the library and some student-teacher judges are like, the next best thing right? Sure.
The theme was games. Anything along that theme could be performed, from mind games to relationship games, to plain old board/sports games.
In the past, I’ve made some terrible, terrible attempts at composing spoken word poetry, some of which I was pretty proud of but looking back, oh boy were they bad. So given the chance to try again, I worked so hard on my piece, and that hard work really paid off; not only did I get 1st place with a 10/10 on my scoring charts, but I also produced a piece of writing that I’m still fantasmically proud of… and I know, blah blah blah. I will post it here, and maybe later video of the performance, so you can actually hear the rhythm in this piece being performed (I’ve always been a drama geek.)
Every day she paces the sidewalks back from school
Dragging out each second of the ticking clock
Hanging in the living room
Back at the home where she doesn’t want to be.
Reaching the door she hesitates,
Collecting in all the empty breaths she can hold so they don’t escape
And before she can find another reason she has to wait
She steps in through the door and just sits.
Now I don’t mean to be blunt,
But at the mere age of 14 this was the victim of rape.
And simply accepting as a cruel twist of fate,
Has kept the secret to herself
And no one else
Not even her father knows.
Each day she suffers from this lie
As she sits alone,
Holding back all the tears building up in her eyes,
The back of her throat plugged up with a million sighs
Wondering how many times she’s allowed to try
Before she has to get it right.
Her father comes home at approximately 6 pm
So if she’s able to recollect herself before then,
The year will have passed in silence.
Approaching six she sits up a little straighter,
And when it gets a little later
Pushes her pain down to the bottom her lungs
As the hollow spaces act as the rungs
Of a ladder
That with every shallow breath
Climb a little bit deeper.
The two sides of her smile get a little bit steeper
And her eyes no longer carry the shine of her tears
Dried up for the first time since the year
That it happened.
And she’s still playing those games.
Tug of war between dealing with the consequences of keeping silent,
and scarring the world, telling them of the violence she had to face.
Playing hide and seek with the truth she’s compressed
Beneath her pasted smile and moulded chest.
Dressing up in a thick layer of fake just so she can resemble normal.
And trying to count the number of scars she’s painted
To get over the loss of her uncontaminated body.
These are the games the victims of rape are forced to play
The games of pretend when they say
that everything is okay,
When its not.
And it’s because the truth is burning hot
Spitting sparks like fireworks they’re too scared to touch
Only they don’t die out,
But keep on burning
Lighting up the skies,
Spelling words that read
FREE ME in glowing letters
While their screaming GIVE ME BACK MY SANITY
Regardless of whether you need it or not.
And if I’m honest to God
If you took it in the first place maybe you should go and try to find your own
Cause I’m busy keeping track of the sparks that ignite.
Until they’re extinguished by the falling tears and
Of the ending of a game that was surrounded by lies.
And by then,
They won’t even care about being stripped of the innocence in their bodies
When every shred of dignity they’ve been gripping to in their bone-white fists
Has been ripped out by the people very people
Who greet her
As she paces down sidewalks.
Yes, that was the poem that won. I think I really just whipped out all my emotion into that one. Anyway, I was supposed to perform it in assembly, only our vice-principal who conducts those things thought the content was inappropriate to be performed in front of 12-16 year olds. Mostly the 12 year olds though. But, honestly, sure, it breached some pretty mature themes, but was it really inappropriate, just ‘cuz it talked about rape? Oh yeah, I said it. It’s not. Mr. Vice-Principal asked me to change it. Being the dramatic writer that I am, I was thinking about getting up on that stage and just saying “I will not be performing my poem today. Being an artist, I am proud of my work for what it is, and I don’t care who says it’s not ‘appropriate’, but I will remain true to my work.” And then launching into a big speech. But the actress inside me jumped at the chance of performing in the 2nd week, and I managed to make the changes without compromising the integrity of my work, even though really rape was the whole point of it. Now that sounded pretty depressing.
I hope your first few weeks of school have been just a productive and great as mine!