“Jaded”: 1st place winner of the fall 2016 poetry contest

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Chosen for its wry style, its rolling lines of fragmentation and its tripartite depiction of visceral emotion,”Jaded” won first place in the fall 2016 SLAM poetry contest. Written by C@SE student, George Trudeau, “Jaded” will be published in the 2017 spring magazine. Trudeau’s winning submission has been reproduced below:

Jaded

Song

I know it’s wrong of me,
My history bears witness,
Every time I hear a song,
After hours of searching,
And searching,
And searching,
And searching,
I finally find the song,
The one that speaks to my soul,
The song that makes me want to love,
The song that makes me want to dance,
The song that makes me want to cry,
The one that will bring back the good times when I’m old,
And friend that will walk me through the bad times,
The companion who will go with me on late night car rides,
Turning off bright-lit city highways,
Onto roads of empty tobacco barns,
And abandoned convenient stores,
To find stars to gaze upon,
Playing each light like a note in a song,
And so I intimately listen,
And listen,
And listen,
And listen,
Trying to hold onto the happiness,
Even knowing that each time I listen,
The less I enjoy,
The faster the notes fade,
Soon enough beauty grows old and grey,
Finally giving up its ghost,
And the happiness I could have savored,
With a little more temperance,
And a little less romance,
Slips through my fingers,
Into the night.

She

Every day she tells me she loves me,
And that I should say it more.

I reply.

Every time she kisses my lips,
Like they’re the only place she wants to be.

I lie.

Every time she tells me I am distant,
And I should be more vulnerable.

I try.

Every day she tells me she loves me,
And I should say it more.

But I don’t know why.

Eggs

Scrambled eggs are tasteless,
They feel like warm sponges,
Yet I make them again and again,
Believing they will be different,
Sometimes gleaning on good health,
So I scramble up new concoctions,
Like a MacBethian brew,
To cast a deceptive spell on myself,
Or to bring the Lazarus meal to life,
But alas it is not the eggs,
Yes truly it is never the eggs.

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