Oprah & Titanic Poem by Lara W.A

Oprah & Titanic

Rating: 5.0

12.43 am,

If Monday’s a breathing creature,
I would have smacked him right on the face,
To get my way to Friday.
Other days don’t seem to do me justice,
I want it to be Friday, everyday.
I guess I’ll just have to pray harder,
And maybe God will hear me this time.

Oprah is on TV.
She had the fabulous Williams Sisters and Jada Pinket Smith sitting on her couch.
How tempting really,
But I’m not paying attention though,
I can’t.

It’s killing me again.
That feeling that sucks my entire system,
Leaving me wanting to disappear;
The vampire’s here tonight, uninvited;
Dropping by to exploit my fragile faith.

Financial Reporting text book in my hand,
First page of Chapter Two.
I’m not reading, I’m just staring blankly,
Those sentences that don’t mean a thing.
They don’t bring any good to the needy society,
Or cure the collapsing world.
So why bother to learn, really?

There, my pink-clothed table (which mum has recently repositioned) ,
Sitting prettily near the window.
My super thick Statistics bible is lying comfortably,
Clean, and neglected.
Piles of homework untouched,
Piles of hopes abandoned;
I guess I’m too eager to ignore.

Ah well, I’ll copy somebody else’s work tomorrow,
What’s there to worry?
Sometimes life is too easy,
It makes me sick.
(I hope God doesn’t hate me too much,
I know He’s watching me sinning.)

iPod’s earphones attached to my ears,
Brand new, shining iPod,
A gift from papa on a Father’s Day.
Ironic it is, how he had to make my day,
Instead of me making his a memorable one.
I remember as we were walking out of the shop,
He looked down at me (since I’m way shorter) ,
And said “You haven’t thanked or wished me *you know what* yet.”

Like a villain in every good movie,
I pretended not to care,
I put on my casual disguise,
And proudly announced:
“You mean, it’s June 19 already? ”

Oh my,
Poor daddy.
He doesn’t know I’m suffering from this mysterious, bizarre illness,
An illness that kills my ability to express.
It picks its victims carefully,
I guess I’m one of the chosen few
(I must be very special, don’t you think?)

I’m a rare specie,
Scattered across the universe,
My kind is facing the extinction threat,
It’s a struggle to make it through the day.

Cold-blooded, head-strong and hard to please,
But like every strong things,
I do crumble under certain circumstances.
And in case you haven’t noticed,
I’m not made of brick.
“Every good thing has its drawbacks.”
Those were the words a lecturer of mine used to say.

Like the poison in my vein,
This disease -
Is wrecking my inside out.
I’m floating hopelessly.
I think they’d all die not knowing,
My overflowing fondness for them.

‘True Love Waits’ is playing,
Describing my entire life so perfectly,
Reminding me of the loneliness I’ve been coping with.
“I’ll drown my beliefs, to have you there with me.”
Those aching words;
They give me the chills,
Giving me the same curse the film Titanic did to me.

Oh yes,
While the female population’s busy worshipping Titanic,
I secretly hated it,
Without knowing how or why.
I guess maybe I’m too logical or too unimaginative,
To believe in that ‘You jump, I jump’ concept.
It seems a little absurd to me.

I needed a Jack Dawson in my life,
Reality striked,
I knew there wasn’t gonna be the person,
Who’d be there to chase off my gloomy dark sky.
(Sometimes I wished I dreamt more often.)

It’s something past one now.
Everybody’s probably snoring and sleeping sound.
The text book I’m supposed to be reading,
Is now lying helplessly,
Like a fallen leaf.
Its master is a dictator,
Its master wouldn’t caress her.

'I’m sorry okay, I have to put you aside tonight.”

Lights off.

Xie Xie.

James B. Earley 17 August 2008

A brilliantly written introspection...of life....its conflicts and turmoil!

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John Tiong Chunghoo 25 July 2005

love this wan. give us more.

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Max Reif 25 July 2005

I like your easy, conversational tone, and I read a lot of the details with great interest as you let me (the reader) into your life-your 'statistics bible', Oprah on TV, your pink table. Then the mysterious malady. I THINK it's either simple loneliness, or love-sickness. Is that right?

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RoJa Mitchell 25 July 2005

great poem, i loved it. you express really good.... :)

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Lara W.A

Lara W.A

Kuala Lumpur
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