"puth" poems
Leong's watching TikTok on her laptop (as always) and she asks Lisa (a NYC girl) “Are you familiar with the the “downtown girl” aesthetic?”
Lisa’s dismissive, “Yeah, it just looks like Urban Outfitters grunge to me.”
Leong explains, “It includes headphones and it’s supposed to be a Lower Manhattan style.”
“Yeah,” Lisa snorts, “Because Greenwich Village and the Lower East Side are SO cohesive.”
Lisa considers herself an Uptown girl (like the song) even though 59th Street, where she lives, is the border between Uptown and Midtown Manhattan. I’m learning that these distinctions are culturally key to New Yorkers.
“And,” Lisa adds, “why would someone wear, and lug around, giant, clunky headphones when you can use AirPods??”
“Amen sister.” I proclaim and even Leong nods in agreement.
“Later, Sunny, Leong and I are on a study break, eating salads and talking about who we hope Yale invites to the next “Spring Fling” concert. We aren’t being realistic; we’re covering who we wish would come. I’d named Charlie Puth, “Kat-Tun!” Leong squealed (A Japanese boy band - apparently Chinese girls LOVE their boybands) and Sunny countered with Ed Sheeran.
“I don’t like Ed Sheeran,” I mumbled, making a yuck-face.
“Why no Ed?” Sunny gasps with shock (She’s a big Ed fangirl).
“I don’t know,” I shrugged, “he’s a star by all measurable metrics,” I admit, “but,” I fade out.
“You want my theory on Ed hate?” Sunny offered, “He’s beyond talented vocally - whoever your favorite artist is, Ed’s probably not that far behind. He’s a stellar song writer and he’s making hit after hit; do you want my theory?”
“Too basic, too popular?” I guess.
“No, he’s not appealing to the gaze,” Sunny states.
“The gays?” Leong questions, stepping back into the conversation.
“No,” Sunny corrects, “the gaze - G-A-Z-E, he doesn’t try to look pretty all the time.”
“Ha!” I snort, “Gaze, I thought you meant gays too,” as Leong and I chuckle together.
“No,” Sunny laughs, “nothing like THAT. Ed’s just not trying to be a heartthrob, he knows that’s not his core strong point - and that’s why he’s discounted.”
“Like lesbians don’t comb their hair or wear makeup and wear pajamas to class” Leong observes, “they don’t want to attract the male gaze?”
“No, we’re not imbued by the male gaze.” Sunny states, “Ed just wants to lowkey.”
Dec 14, 2022
Dec 14, 2022 at 10:51 AM UTC
People came and went all night, welcomed by the warm evening, the 12-piece jazz band, rich restaurant aromas and the boundless night sky. I hear their enthusiasm as they’re escorted to their tables. These Geneva people seem more Germanic and reserved than the French, although they’ve stolen our language. Maybe they license French or subscribe to it, like Spotify.
Peter (my bf) and I danced, unburdened by tomorrows, on a terrace of frozen-ice like, pale-blue tiles. The spilled star-field glittered like fireworks on a dark canvas of a new-moon, black sky.
The distant, snow-covered Alps seemed to reach for the glistening cosmos, like spilled water rushing across a floor or children grasping at toys. Compared to this celestial gallery, the Geneva skyline looked as sad as an old stage prop.
The air was scented with blooming jasmine, baking bread and coffees. A breeze, in turns warm and cool, wrapped around us, sharing the dance by pressing my dress to me one moment and throwing it away the next.
The dress I picked it up in Paris earlier in the week - a svelte, Chiuri Dior, ‘New Look Silhouette’ in Prussian blue Chiffon and cobalt crepe - felt as lightweight, breathable and cool as workout-mesh.
Peter’s a good dancer. He’s firm yet gentle, guiding me effortlessly, in a lazy, jazz way, from the waist. When we’re in the flow, our choreography’s guided more by the unseen music than a set dance.
Our evening - I think it’s fair to say we owned it - turned into an unhurried night, before easing, unnoticed, into morning - as summer evenings tend to do.
Our words, in hushed tones, were washed away on the breeze and the music, lost to anyone but ourselves. Time never seemed more of an abstract and irrelevant construct - and if there was a world beyond those moments - it went unnoticed.
.
.
Songs for this:
Good Luck, Babe! by Chappell Roan
Lose My Breath (Feat. Charlie Puth) by Stay Kids, Charlie Puth
Stumblin’ In by CRYIL
**** to someone by Clairo
Jun 5, 2024
Jun 5, 2024 at 1:19 PM UTC
A huge veil separates us from reality,
'Casualties of abnormal normality'
And that's my generation,
Thirsty for immediate gratification.
Paying no mind to Morpheus,trapped inside a matrix
The system is a slab; the slingers are these mind tricks.
searching for truth,finding it in drugs and ***
Somebody it seems,put on us a hex,
Not caught up in your such for heaven,
in our chill-spots we have a 'safe' haven.
hanging from life's cliff,by a weakening thread,
you can't blame us; in recklessness we were bred.
Holy books aside, give me Li'l wayne's rhymes,
Misplaced faith,we worship dimes.
disintergrated morals,
Child-parent quarrels.
Watch us puth God,girls,gangs and guns-
in the same sentence,
and hope for a fairer retribution,than to misery,a life sentence
Mar 13, 2014
Mar 13, 2014 at 6:10 AM UTC
My baby left me yesterday,
Packed her bags and went away,
High heels on the carpet,
Took my keys and craved her name into my car seat.
And that's the last one I let push me around,
I've said it before but I mean it now,
Get me out this city, I just need to clear my mind.
We left this evening, gave them twenty dollars for some gas in Boston,
grab a bite but now we're taking off,
When we got to Melrose, fifteen nights of April,
We just drank our sorrows, talked about the day we'll have it all.
- Charlie Puth "Ride To Melrose"
Nov 3, 2016
Nov 3, 2016 at 9:48 AM UTC
Her skin is smooth as silk
Lips sweeter than chocolate milk
Those eyes they put me in a trance
Every time we are together we sing and dance
She has the voice of an Angel And a heart of gold
We must get back together before we get to old
This woman that I love so much
I would **** just to feel her touch
Our souls will be as one
Without you I can have no fun
The words of my poems are all the truth
I remember crying to the song with Charlie puth
As my feet touch the sand
I will keep on stretching till I can reach your hand
...........this love that I once had it will return
Or forever I will be down and my soul will burn
Jul 11, 2018
Jul 11, 2018 at 10:14 PM UTC
Ever wonder?
How it feels like
Crying out loud inside,
Yet, still wearing fake smiles?
Ever wonder?
How much it hurts
Pretend nothing happened
Yet, dying inside?
Ever wonder?
How difficult it is
Keeping the courage to face you
When I actually want to disappear from your sight?
Ever wonder?
How painful to bear
When you purposely ignore me
Yet, I still care?
Ever wonder?
How hard to hide my emotions
Whenever I hear Charlie Puth's song
"We don't talk anymore
Like we used to do..."?
Ever wonder?
How much I am broken inside
That I can lie the whole world I am happy and strong
Yet, unable to lie myself?
Ever wonder?
How much I have loved you
That when you are gone,
I feel I lost myself and my happiness?
Ever wonder?
That you are part of my life,
That I am no longer the same me which I used to be,
That I am helplessly and shamelessly thinking about you,
That I am constantly looking at my phone and wish you msg me,
That I am burning inside every moment I breathe
Ever wonder.....those feelings???
Jul 5, 2018
Jul 5, 2018 at 2:39 AM UTC
like honey dripping down
golden pathways to a sea of spiced tea
like the cinnamanly smells curling up
to caress my face
Like the deep red liquid firey below
with hints of home and rest and apples
excitement in the cold unknown
You are a rare delight for ears and sight
Nov 5, 2018
Nov 5, 2018 at 5:48 PM UTC