“The Poet Laureate” is my first college poem to my then
school paper, The TIP Voice. As one can see how ambitious my thoughts were during
younger years, and that those ambitions remain as it is—ambitions. But regret
is overhyped! Always the one to justify emotional distaste is this regret that
all of us have. Everyone could ever have their own adaptation of their dreams—modification
to fit the specification of the present times. I am of the belief that writing,
especially at this day and (digital) age doesn’t have to be a just a paying
profession. Even at this everyday living, poetizing our daily battles isn’t yet
a lost art. And what with this plethora of platform right at the skin of our
teeth waiting for us to nab and strut our stuff to be what we always wanted to
be. Well, this piece may not fit your grandiose design of what you used to see
yourself growing up but sure enough everybody had their moments of doubt only
to be trumped by their own desire to exist and to matter.
The Poet Laureate
I'm the Poet Laureate
I'm the Poet Laureate
Yes, I am
I make things, I make life
Like no other could
For I am an oasis of tranquility in this bustling world.
I'm the Poet Laureate
I'm indeed
Off pseudo greed
I cast a looming deed
I elapse nothing
things of wistful glance
I defy everything
I take my damnedest chance.
I'm the Poet Laureate
I'll always be
In this world of sarcasm
i have existed
Off broad chasms, and racial
discriminations
My pen is my soul, and
budding ammunition.
I'm the Poet Laureate
I ought to be
Amidst this tainting place
I try to drub
I stupefy no one and
Feed those gnostic minds
With no vapid notions
Off my repertoire's wit
I'm the Poet Laureate
I'm proud to be
I quaff my soulful words
and spit its piffling sorts
On through my somnambulate
I speak it all
Amidst this somber place
Pervade my thunderous call.
I'm the Poet Laureate
I'd rather be
Than being a brusque creature
Maligned by his rueful splinter
Unlike my rhetoric lips
Risen from dispute
For this bewildered world
I've made to exult.
FFUgay
