We Are Beautiful, Careless People in an Uncaring World
My attempt at some prose-poetry in the contemporary style: free-verse and experimenting with form. It is more a short story written in prose-poetry than a strict poem.
It is not finished yet.
The general idea behind the poem is to show the two extremes of the human experience. Some people are beautiful (note: beautiful meaning unburdened and unbroken by life) and some people are broken and wary. These realities exist simultaneously right now. I can say with certainty that a boozy rooftop party in NYC full of glamour and glitz is happening at the same time as a single mother going to bed hungry so her child can eat. This is not a moral condemnation or a thing to be guilty about, but something to be aware of.
So if you are so lucky as to be a beautiful person, you must cherish that privilege and understand that another reality of broken and burdened souls exist, and you must do your best to help.
Moreover, these two realities not only exist simultaneously in different lives, but each one of us will undoubtedly experience both extremes. We will all be beautiful and careless, and we will all be broken and wary. Life is a revolving door between these two states:
The door turns and turns, and turns and turns: so we must cherish the times when we are beautiful and careless, and we must resolve our will and strengthen our spirit when we are broken and wary.
I. Postcards from Travels
A thousand blue hats are thrown into the air
And soar into the cloudless sky.
They land on our heads and our shoulders
And on the floor and on our friends
And we laugh because
Graduation is here!
Our families and friends give us hugs and kisses
And celebrate us.
We take photos together
And reminisce on the nervous first time we met,
So long ago – The memories we’ve made since then!
Time to celebrate.
Ten best friends board the plane
Which somehow smells of excitement and fear
And adventure and more – How is this the first time
We’re all travelling together?!
We take photos of each other
Fast asleep in the sky,
Our mouths hanging open
With blankets tucked under our chins
As the night sky rushes past
And grin at the craziness of it all.
We’re all awake now as the plane descends
And we press our faces to the window
Taking blurry photos of the city that sprawls below us
Like a galaxy where each star is the light of a family
Sleeping peacefully, a million-different lives
That we send photos of to our families at home
With a breathless, stupid wonder.
We arrive at the hotel
And brush our teeth together as we had
Done so many times in the dorms
But now we are in a foreign land
Where the air slightly
Smells like smoke
And glory.
We fall asleep, exhausted
But wake up
So excited.
Ten best friends pile
Into a tuk-tuk and the wind whips our hair –
Is this legal?!, we scream in giddy
As the driver gives us a knowing grin.
The people here are so friendly.
We try haggling for colourful pants
In a crowded market because that is
The experience but fail badly
And end up paying more somehow
But that’s okay because we are actors
On a stage and this is the magic.
The steam rises from a massive bowl
Of shared noodles where we bunch together
Under a thin canopy on plastic stools
As the rain crashes down around us.
We stand on a street corner with a map
That is more of a suggestion than a map
And the roar of a thousand scooters wash over us
And the rain drenches us all.
We laugh at the absurdity of it,
At how five years ago we were nothing
And now we are ten best friends
Who survived exams and heartbreak and coffee
And classes and growing up together
To be here in the chaos of a foreign land where we feel
Completely, ridiculously invincible.
We stumble into a tiny dim-lit bar
To escape the pouring rain
And drink the night away together
From buckets of cheap whiskey
And we share our stories
With the locals who drink with us
And we think about drinking our first ever shots
Together 5 years ago and we cheers to that and drink
More than our 18-year old selves could have imagined.
Ten best friends
Sit on the back of ten sputtering scooters
As the sun pounds overhead
And the scooters climb a winding dirt road
Through a foggy jungle.
The world is a blur
Of intense green
And we smell damp earth
And hear the screech of far-away monkeys
And wind pelts our faces
And when we can,
We turn to each other and give a delirious grin.
Ten best friends push their way through
Hanging vines and muddy roads
And find a clearing
That leads to a secluded beach
With white sand
And water that catches fire
As the waves reflect the red sunset.
We build a firepit on the beach
And sit around it as the night air gets chilly
And we listen quietly to the gentle lapping of the waves
And the crackle of the flames
And think about our lives
And the past and the future
And where would all this go
And where will we all end up
And then we think about the present
And we sing our love for each other
And promise that after graduation
We will keep in touch
Even though everyone is moving away.
Someone pulls out a small bottle of rum
And we take turns passing it around
On our final night in this glorious land
And someone decides to jump in the freezing water
And we all jump in
And the water chills us to the bone
And then the stars come out blazing
And we look at the Milky Way in all its glory
And the soft light blooms from our skin
And we look at each other in this faint light
And we take it all in,
Because this is the entire universe in this moment,
And it belongs to us,
It is us.
II. Mother
6:00 AM
The alarm rings violently.
Her hand snaps to turn it off.
A mouldy gravel roof meets her eyes.
It is cold.
It is dark out.
get up
Her bare feet meet the splintered wood.
An old t-shirt hangs limply on her exhausted frame.
A dull ache wakes behind her eyes.
be quiet
She flicks on the light to the bathroom.
Picks up the toothbrush.
Back and forth.
Her eyes are still gritty with sleep.
Her reflection stares at her in the mirror.
Dark circles under her eyes.
Pale skin.
Unbrushed hair.
She looks away.
The cold water from the shower
Drips down her naked body.
no hot water today
After 30 seconds she steps out
And drags on a stiff polo shirt
And the rest of her uniform.
make food then leave in 30
should i wake him up yet? no not yet
give him a little bit more time
A harsh yellow light sputters on
And reveals a cramped, sterile kitchen
With two dirty plates in the sink.
Oh god is there meat in the fridge
can I give him some money for lunch
I should have enough
The fridge offers a plastic package
Of sliced ham and some bread.
thank god thank god
need to go shopping after work
The instant coffee is a relief.
It’s bitter and hot
And she downs it while
Leaning against the kitchen counter.
Need to wake him up in 5
let me quickly package his lunch
A soft brown bag rustles
As she slides in a neat sandwich.
Ham, lettuce and butter.
She picks up a marker
And draws a careful loveheart
On the bag.
The marker is almost out.
need to buy one more
yeah that should be fine
She packs his tattered schoolbag.
please last a few more weeks
Deep breath.
need to leave soon let’s wake him up
She softly walks back
To her bedroom.
She steps over blocks of knock-off LEGO
Scattered on the floor
And moves to a corner in the bedroom
Where a small, still shape
Breathes softly under a thin blanket.
She places her hand on his little shoulder.
His skin is warm.
Wait is he sick or is that just his temperature
oh god please don’t be sick
if he is can I take him to work with me
no I can’t do that he’s just a kid how can I be thinking that
please don’t be sick please don’t be sick
He rubs his eyes.
He sees her soft outline in
The dim light of the fading moon.
He beams and hops out of bed.
“Mummy!”
7:30 AM
The sun casts long shadows across the manicured lawns.
Campus is empty.
It is silent.
The cart grinds over the cobblestones.
Her keys jangle with each step.
The water in her mop bucket makes a rhythmic slosh-slosh.
She arrives at a pristine glass building
And scans her card to enter.
I hope he’s okay the before-school care is a lifesaver
but I hope he’s okay.
She enters the bathroom.
Fluorescent lights glare off mirrors streaked
With water and fingerprints.
Wet clumps of hair lie idly in the sink.
Muddy footprints line the tiled floor.
She begins cleaning.
This floor first then the West Wing lobby.
Can finish this quickly and spend more time
On the engineering building.
Scrape.
Scrub.
Back and forth.
I’ll get paid on Saturday
I can pay last week’s rent with it
It’s late
That leaves me $42.50 for groceries
What about his jacket he was shivering this morning
He needs a new jacket
Oh God his school trip he has to go
All his friends are going
I’ll make it work
I’ll figure it out
She moves to the first stall.
Lifts the lid.
A yellow ring marks the waterline.
Wet scraps of toilet paper cling to the edge.
Streaks of brown spatter the bowl.
She wipes the bowl down.
Flushes.
I can fix his jacket actually I should’ve fixed it last night
I just don’t even remember falling asleep
And now he’s probably freezing
And what if the other kids make fun of him
She sprays thick blue gel onto the rim.
Wipes.
God I hope they don’t make fun of him
What if he’s sick again I can’t afford any more time off work
I can’t I can’t I can’t
Brushes the brown off the bowl.
Flushes.
Stall 1 complete.
Two more left.
Then the other bathroom on this floor.
Then the second floor of this building.
Then–
One at a time.
1:30PM
She pushes her cart down the carpeted hallway
Of the undergrad dorms.
final room then I’m done then I can sleep
Students in pyjamas chatter outside open doors.
One of them complains about the dining hall’s lunch
And orders Thai from Uber Eats.
The distant hymn of guitar and singing
From a dorm room pierces her ears.
She walks by a dorm
Where friends try on sparkling gowns
For tonight’s formal.
If I can get home by 2:15
I can sleep for 45 minutes
Before I pick him up.
Five grinning friends in singlets and sunglasses
Return from the campus gym
And silence their conversation
As they part around her cart.
She pushes open the door to the common room.
Empty beer cans and red plastic cups line the floors.
A pyramid of greasy pizza boxes is piled on a table.
Glitter is scattered across the carpet like
Sand on a beach
And a forgotten grey hoodie is slung over a chair.
A group of friends watching a movie
Sees her enter and their faces contort.
“Sorry”, one mutters as they file out.
The first red cup
Makes a hollow rattle
As she drops it into her bin bag.
Final room. Just get this done.
3:45PM
Beep
Packaged mac-and-cheese.
$3.25
Beep
Two apples.
$5.00
He’s grinning.
he loves his mac-and-cheese
She squeezes his hand.
Beep
Bread.
$7.25
She lifts her arm
Weighed down by exhaustion
And fatigue
And fumbles for
The change in her pocket.
$17.50 exactly.
Beep
A set of markers.
$10.75
Her ears begin to feel warm.
should it be this high already?
Beep
Ham
Beep
Tomatoes
Beep
Lettuce
that should cover his lunch for the next few days
The total reads $16.50.
Beep
A frozen meat pie for herself.
“$19.25 please”, the cashier says.
Her heart sinks.
She closes her eyes briefly.
i didn’t take into account the markers
“Can you take the pie off? Please”, she whispers.
The cashier gives a sympathetic nod.
“$17.25.”
6:30PM
(to be continued)
III. The Wedding
Golden rays of sunshine fall onto her,
And a quiet glow settles over her skin.
A cool breeze lifts her stone-white veil into the air,
Playfully promising to let it fly over the cliff edge.
A contented laugh ripples through the crowd.
Lush green pastures tickle her feet
And her hands clasp the rough of her husband’s-to-be.
Below, soft blue waves carry sparkling sunlight and
Kiss the smooth rock of the cliff face,
Unfurling with a gentle sigh.
All the love that has ever known them
Is gathered here.
A hundred shared histories drape
Her shoulders in a quiet warmth,
And come to rest
In her mother’s soft, knowing smile.
From the flower-arch
Above her head,
A pink rose-petal falls
And is carried away
By the gentle breeze,
Not a care in this careless world.
The chaplain finishes his monologue.
She is pulled into her husband’s arms,
Into the soft embrace of love,
Into the soft embrace of bliss.
It is just you and I in this beautiful world, she thinks to herself.
IV. Four Brothers
Harsh wind kicks up
Faded yellow sand
That pricks his cheeks.
The heat is sweltering.
He tastes beads of sweat.
The desert stretches to the horizon and back.
Houses of mud-and-straw jut from the ground.
They are empty; the village is deserted,
Save for the four of them.
It is silent.
He tightly grips his rifle.
The heat is sweltering.
Sweat trickles down his cheek
And splashes on his vest.
He looks at his unit.
They are four-men strong;
Four brothers-in-arms.
The same sun, the same dust, the same adrenaline
Is shared in the silence between them.
The heat is sweltering.
Sweat slicks his hair.
It is a door-by-door search.
He adjusts his helmet’s chin strap.
His rifle is tucked tight
Into his shoulder.
The heat is sweltering.
His heart is pounding.
They are at the door.
Four brothers-in-arms.
Derrick at point,
Each muscle in his body tensed,
His daughter’s name inked
Across his forearm.
Chen behind him,
Leg braced to breach the door.
He says some stupid joke, as always.
It works.
A moment’s calm.
Jonny at the back raises three fingers.
They had shared a drink at base
For his 23rd birthday last week.
His hand wears a bracelet
From his mother.
His hand is shaking.
His hand is shaking.
The heat is suffocating.
The door goes flying.
The door is breached!
GO, GO, GO!
Chaos.
Derrick rushes in. The others follow.
Four brothers-in-arms.
The room is scanned.
Movement in the back corner.
A young man – eyes wide – fumbles for his belt.
CONTACT!
He throws something.
Chen fires a shot.
Dead. Crumpled.
Clink.
It rolls to a stop between them.
Fuck.
The door is too far away.
The explosion will kill them all.
Oh fuck, oh fuck.
Everyone scrambles.
Not Jonny.
Jonny stands still.
Derrick has a daughter
Jonny lunges.
Jonny lunges at it.
Jonny lunges at it?
Jonny hugs the floor.
JONNY GET THE FUCK AW--
A pressure wave slams them back.
Something warm spatters his cheeks.
High-pitched ringing.
Clouds of dust.
Smoke in nostrils.
Fits of coughing.
Silence.
Jonny?
Three brothers-in-arms.