Emilia Anthony

Emilia Anthony Poems

Hi…My name is Molly, and I don't know why I'm here. I don't know how to start, but yes, I guess, you, over there—

Yes thank you, my name is Brilliant Young Reporter with a recorder and an eating disorder, reporting for a channel that can't keep its lies and truths in order,
Could you tell me, Madame Molly, as you stand there so quietly-you're about as young as me—and elaborate please—
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The Best Poem Of Emilia Anthony

Madame Molly (A Slam Poem)

Hi…My name is Molly, and I don't know why I'm here. I don't know how to start, but yes, I guess, you, over there—

Yes thank you, my name is Brilliant Young Reporter with a recorder and an eating disorder, reporting for a channel that can't keep its lies and truths in order,
Could you tell me, Madame Molly, as you stand there so quietly-you're about as young as me—and elaborate please—
How do you plan on using your degree?

Well, I haven't really—

Your options are these: make money, or go broke—
Think practically, your dreams are too silly to take seriously—
Those are for children and people in magazines—

Well I just turned 20, closed the door on my teens and I'm not really quite sure what to be
I guess you're lucky, you know your place, but I'm not sure currently—

I've known what I wanted to be since I was three.
I went to college, straight A's, paid my own way—
So you must be ready—so now, tell me, how do you plan to survive?
Have you selected a destination for the rest of your life?
You're old enough now to meet that deadline and answer life's who, what, where, when and why!

I'm gonna plead the 5th here—I sincerely apologize to Miss Meteorite moving ten times the speed of light.
I don't move at that pace, I can't move at that pace—but yes, over there, question two—

I guess second place isn't that bad this time,
Good evening, Madame Molly, I'm Mr. Hollow Inside.
I've been buried for decades in my office alive.
I'm slowly suffocating from the weight of my self-hate and my life's miserable monotony like a match that won't take.
I make a safe salary,100K a year, and live in a house but hide in my beer.
I spend more time in traffic than a saint in a church—
My life's an assembly line of sleeping pills, caffeine and it only gets worse.
So please, Madame Molly, we'd all like to know, at precisely what age will you let your dreams go?

I don't know! Slow down! Do I even have a choice? You make it sound like my only station in life is white noise—
I have options, I have instincts! I have a voice that's distinct—
The ink of my life's story is still wet-you can't expect me to burn that book and forget!
The earliest pages were written in free hand—free from shackles of self doubt, rules and demand, cynicism and real life and kindling dreams.
Those chapters are the me that I truly believe—

PARDON ME, MADAME MOLLY, I'M GONNA CUT IN REAL QUICK,
MY NAME IS CRIPPLING CONDESCENSION FROM THE WASHINGTON PRICK—
I HAVE TO SAY, IT'S ADORABLE YOU'RE STICKING TO YOUR GUNS LIKE THIS!
YOU HAVE DREAMS? YOU HAVE PLANS? YOU THINK YOU'RE SPECIAL?
WELL DAMN, MADAME MOLLY THERE ARE BILLIONS OF PEOPLE IN THIS WORLD, AND 99% OF ALL OF ‘EM DON'T HAVE THE LUXURY TO WALLOW IN YOUR PRIVILEGED DELIRIUM.
SO, GROW A SPINE THAT KNOWS HOW TO BREAK AND BRACE YOURSELF FOR THE CRACK BECAUSE SENSIBLE PEOPLE KNOW THAT LIFE BEGINS AND ENDS IN BLACK,
YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO THINK THAT YOU CAN STAND APART FROM THE CROWD—
YOU'RE NO DIFFERENT FROM THE REST OF US—YOU'RE SLEEPWALKING IF YOU'RE PROUD—

It's not pride it's not pride!
It's not dreaming after bedtime—it's just a fundamental difference in the frameworks of our minds!
Inside I just believe that with the one life I lead I can't go on autopilot and just wait and see until my life and my death bed inevitably meet.
I don't see why we even breathe or are surrounded by sea if we weren't supposed to swim!
And know we could drown as easILy as a wave reaches out and kisses the ground.
I appreciate your concern and your feedback but please—I've gotta pave the road you've left to time to cover in weeds.
I can't be stuck in traffic, I can't let stop signs govern me, I can't go bumper to bumper, I need to choose my own speed.
'Cause my headlights are on, high beams are strong, I got a compass in my soul that'll never lead me wrong.
So I'm calling it tonight, thank you all for coming out,
I hope I've given you all something you can write about.
That's the penny for my thoughts, but that's all I'm shellin' out,
Because in 5 years, I'll be happy—and you ' come and check that out.

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