By Elin Jarlstrom
As mentioned in precious SCAB’s, Deanna Rodger came to school last Monday for our first introduction into the world of Spoken Word Poetry.
When Eytan (the mastermind behind it all) told us before Christmas that we should get a group of people together from SCA to perform at the Spoken Word Poetry event in May, I already had my pom-poms ready.
As if I could do anything more than cheer for the others, having the courage to sign up.
But then Deanna Rodger came.
And she changed my mind.
For last Friday’s reflection slide, I didn’t go up on stage as usual. I didn’t even manage to put up a funny picture and pretend it was Frazer’s.
I freaked out. And I never got to read my first ever Spoken Word Poem.
So until I find the courage to go and actually preform it (hopefully by next Friday), I thought I’ll share it with you here.
(So hit me with a beat..)
I call it ‘Lost in Confusion’
I dig deep.
ten, hundred, thousands of flaws.
Where’s the solution, what’s the conclusion,
along my spine,
one second we shine,
now we’re nothing but just behind
but what if we combine?
Let’s put our heads together,
What if we run, what if we sprint,
was that a hint we just passed,
or just a reflection in the glass,
from someone else’s success in the class?
I’ve been debating the grass, many times –
but it’s gives me the chills inside.
Some call it a guide, a ride, or is it just that one place to hide?
I have tried to cry, cried to try. Everything, nothing,
I’ve tried to accept my flaws –
but then when will I ever see those dropping jaws.
Insight. Problem. Strategy, Mess. I’m loosing this game of chess, all this press, stress, stress.
Please say yes,
Express, address, impress, progress. Failure to success, digest, nevertheless,
everything is a contest.
I’ve tried to undress, the constant need for success but all it does,
I look around the room –
I assume the others resume. Or is it just a costume?
Is it just me who feel lost? I’ve tried to turn to Robert Frost but it’s doesn’t erase all the must’s.
I guess in the end,
it all comes down to hard work and self-trust.
To ones again find that lust, to discuss, readjust, aim higher than the intake of BUSK.
So let’s start to build our arc,
let’s swipe away the previous footsteps of BARK and really show Marc,
that we’re more of a superhero than that wanker Kent, Clark.
It is tough, rough, nothing ever seems to be good enough, not even the small stuff.
So let’s challenge it, and let’s prove that we’re no bluff. Let’s step up.
That it’s fate –
That we’re meant to go from great to hate, hate to great, debate, we rate, work late, carry the weight,
All for the sake of finding that one idea to create.
The picture on the wall is poking the corner of our eye. Let it be a reminder of what we do and why,
we either succeed and sell,
or give up and die.