POEM: Postmodern Joel

(This is a repost of a poem that I wrote in a very "elongated" post some time ago. I am reposting it because it deserves to be on its own, it is from that acclaimed (*snickers*) post titled: Joel: Poetry-Hater. By this time I had fully understood what postmodernism was all about, hence the title of this poem.)

I, (Poetry-hater, rhyme-lover, postmodern, bittersweet writer...) present you!... chan chan chan chan chan! (drumroll): a poem by me.


Postmodern Joel
(a cultural poem that is vital)

by: Joel Feliciano
©2004-2006

One day in May, I discovered
what postmodernism meant.
It was such a truth uncovered
that my grand mind only dreamt

of a boy who struggled
trying to find words to say
for a poem that juggled
in absudity and dismay.

Joel, the boy was called
by his brother and sister
by his missis and mister,
until they were appalled

by his postmodernism phase;
when he started to tatoo
intricate poems on his face
caused by an “evil craze”

inside his mind and index finger.
To his yard he darted one day
before lunch, on the grass he lay
rhyming words which lingered,

so they could have a nice sound
and impress many masters.
But he lacked cultural ground,
held nothing but disasters.

So he waltzed to the library,
took some pretty looking book
that had cultural poetry.
He read, and read and then went red

‘cause he understood nothing
he intended to understand.
He came back home pedalling,
and started to tatoo his hand.

He stopped half way up, couldn’t do it:
write culturally about his town,
or him, or whatever was around;
and so follows, what he came up with:

after waking from a deep sleep in May:
Postmodern Joel, it was titled,
a cultural poem that was vital
‘cause of its absudity and dismay.


October 8, 2004
8:35 PM