Hello World

Hello World

Hello World has the distinction of being the very first poem I ever wrote, circa 1997.

hello world,
what are you doing on my front step?
guess it's my turn to shine in the spotlight
i don't think i'm ready yet.
i still have things to do here in my castle
that you wouldn't understand.
i'm perfectly fine on my own.
and in the end, i'll die sad and alone.
don't burden me with your problems, you say.
i'm just a member of the silent majority,
you say.
how am i supposed to refute that?
do i need to seek professional help?
pay my hard-earned money,
money to people who don't need it,
to tell some scholar/academic my "problems",
when common sense dictates
what i already should know?
you are merely a robot,
programmed to listen, to obey,
another infamous,
good boy gone bad rocket scientist,
to tell you to cry, to suffer,
to touch, to adore.
but you can't feel, can you world?
we're silent partners, world.
and i wonder is your partnership a blessing?
a wake up call from the gods,
reassuring my immortal salvation.
excuse me, who are you?
i'm so confused.
i'm alone in my principles.
ground glass in my oatmeal cookies,
the blood from the wounds
taste just like ketchup.
i let you rotate, world.
spin and weave your pretty little lies
to create a purple haze.
a fog to envelope me in sorrow,
a cloak of forgetfulness.
the summer air is heavy.
my heart beats like a drum,
my knees are weak,
and i'm sweating bad.
won't you come inside?
i'll turn the cold air on, so you'll be okay.
see my eyes world?
i'm mentally undressing you,
so i know how you feel when you're like me.
when you're naked,
all the carnal feelings of the flesh
play tricks on your mind.
the core of your star-studded sex
is calling for me.
sadly enough, sex rocks my world.
they say Catholic schoolgirls are hypocrites,
a starved brand of sexual innocence
in a plaid skirt,
sucking on a cherry lollipop.
if that's so, send me to hell right away.
so i'm a liar,
i tell you one thing and do another.
world, i change, i cry for you,
i feel for you.
the incense lingers in the air,
like the treachery that you told me.
before we go our separate ways,
please know that i've tried.
i never lied, i never cheated,
i never stole; everything else was a go.
how does it feel
to be reminded of your imperfections?
i don't even know
if the words on this page make sense,
but flawlessness is not you, world.
you cry, you wail, you gnash your teeth,
and i undergo your pain
in the depths of my soul,
but i still feel as though i can't trust you.
i depended on you for comfort, friendship,
and the occasional episode of casual sex...
and even now you deny me.
look at me.
i'm still the lanky,
raven haired beauty you ordered.
i'm just a pawn in your chess game,
a piece of beautiful garbage.
but then again, i'm not.
your tears are my tears, world.
i feel unloved, unwanted,
not needed sometimes, world.
i only undressed you because
i've always been naked in front of you.
i try to be different,
which defeats the point.
tree branch

Level up your day with an often-imitated, never duplicated aural transmission from Raconteuse Radio!

logo of raconteuse radio

This tiny — but mighty — podcast celebrates the oral delivery of the written word. My goal is to showcase and chat with emerging & established writers at all stages of their careers and probe the minds of unshakable industry folks to show us how to become published poets and authors.

Want to be featured? Submit your pitch!

Back to Top