So I have decided to change the focus of this blog a little bit to be more focused on me just putting some poems and stuff that I have written on here, so that this can be more of an artistic outlet. But who honestly knows because I could stick to that or I could (probably) not so don’t take my word for it.
So this poem that I am going to be posting now, I wrote while I was working. I don’t think that I have told you guys, but I am an intern in a plant science lab doing research which is an amazing opportunity and I have really experienced a lot and I am so grateful for the opportunity, but it has helped me come to the conclusion that I could not work in a lab as my career. It’s nothing against the people that do, I have just found that it is very important for me to be able to have a job where I can go outside, I can talk to people, I am surrounded by color as opposed to sitting in a bland white room with no people and no windows. I need to be able to explore, I can’t live off of a procedure. But anyways (see how this being a blog composed of just my poems is kinda impractical) it has given me a lot of inspiration for writing so here is one of the first ones:) Enjoy!
There is tape
Rubbed against the side of every single container
It’s kept in rolls and thrust into every drawer
It would be easy for me to reach across the bland, grey surface
Over the tubes full of chemicals I don’t care to know
and crumpled foil I don’t care to throw away
And slide my finger through the roll of tape
Tossed carefully aside
It would be easy to let it twirl around my knuckles
It would be easy to tear off a piece
Or maybe tear off two
Just to feel what it is like to rip something with such ease and grace
That’s the funny thing about the lab
Everything is covered in tape
Red, green, yellow
White with purple stripes
And blue with orange trim
And the reason for that is because they need to label everything
Yes, I know that is bland, but that is the truth
And they make their labels out of tape
(Glad we have gotten that cleared up)
In case you didn’t know, I will tell you that labels
are nothing to mess with
Especially in a sanctuary of science
Every detail of a label means something important
So why is it so easy for me to reach over
things that I don’t care about
to grab a hold of their labels,
dangle them between my palms
and then tear them?
It would be easy for me to rip those labels as many times as I choose
In any fashion or nature
those labels could become nothing
So why do you trust them so much?
After all, it’s just a piece of tape.
Say you and I were friends
Friends that were able to leave their trust in each other
And I told you that this glass that you held in your hand was full of cyanide
But there was a piece of tape plastered against the side
that said “water”
Would you drink it?
(I’d hope that you wouldn’t)
What if you had just met me and I told you that my name was Janet
And I walked and talked like a Janet
But my name tag said “Ben”
What would you call me?
(I hope you’d say Janet)
You say that maybe it’s not the same thing
but it is
It would be so easy for me to tear those labels apart
Almost as easy as it was for you to put them there in the first place
What if that label were wrong?
Would you even care?
What if you took a sip from a bottle of cyanide that said “water” on the front?
Would you care then?
What if you called me “Ben” when I told you my name was Janet?
You think that it isn’t the same thing?
Good luck calling me “Ben” when your stomach is full of