copyright © 2004 by Hayden Taylor

First Draft, Final Draft

by Hayden Taylor


James sits down at the table.


JAMES: Well, Iíve got a couple minutes. That should be just enough time.


James begins to write.


JAMES: Jim Morrision, Kurt Cobain and now James Ladubski. The crimson wake of tragedy continues. I hate to break it to you, World, but you just lost a visionary, a truly magnificent soul. A gentle, modest, remarkable manóme, James Ladubski. But why should you careówhat is a diamond to a bunch of stupid monkeys? Roll in you monkey shit, World! East those shit covered bananas, see if I care. I wonít have to watch you do it. Iím sorry that Iím not as stupid as all of you, but you see, Iím just a little different, I have couple little things that you may not be familiar with, a couple little things called a brain and a soul. Try that on for size!


I am a poet, but Iím afraid you never recognized my gift. All you saw was the shy, homely kid drowning his sorrows in the back of the dark arcade. You never gave me a chance, nope. And you might say, ďwhere are all your poems?Ē Ha! Thatís a stupid questionówhy would I ever share my brilliance with all you nincompoops. Besides I already told you that you stifled me so much that I could never even start to tap my muse, my inner well of beauty.ó[ooh, thatís a good line.]


Hey, and you know what? Iím glad I punched that screen on Cyber Racers 4. I hope it costs lots of money to fix. Whoís laughing now? Ha, thatís right: me. ĖBesides, the colors were totally faded and you needed to replace it anyway.


To reiterate my point, Stupid World: Goodbye. Enjoy those shit covered bananas. When you get a chance, take a look on what you turned you back on.


Yes, the crimson wake of tragedy continues. But first, Iíll leave you with just a couple drops of my musings, though Iím sure youíll never really understand them. Enjoy. Oh, and excuse me if theyíre still just first drafts, I guess I didnít really have time to revise. Spell check them yourselves, bitches.


This first one is to that bitch, Chelsea, Iíll see you in hell. Itís called ďThe Earth Was Dancing with FearĒ or ďYour Spirit Announced the Death of the World.Ē



Her spirit was a bell, and it said to my eye:

(He reads in a high voice, imitating a girl.)

Since everyone sucks as much as me, you might as well die.

(Voice normal again.)

It shouts, rings out, says ďpray to the LordĒ

Guess what, slut, youíve got a nice ass, but youíre as flat as a board!

I was a nice guy, but you didnít want to dance.

You told me to get lost, and then you fucked Lance.


Her name, her spirit, her face is a bell,

Chelsea, you dumped me, Iíll see you in hell.


Now, letís try a little free verse, if you dummies can understand a poem that doesnít rhyme.



ďThe Soul of the Weeping FlowerĒ


Oh! Lament, Daffodil, why do you bow your head down.

Wipe away those bitter tears for I willó


MOM (offstage, interrupting): Jimbo! Wash up, okódinnerís ready!


(James tenses and glares in the direction of the voice. Then he returns to work.)


JAMES: Uhh! Iíll be down in a minute. And I told you to call me James!


Öwipe away those bitter tears for I will soothe you, my fragrant beauty.

And if you canít wipe them away, Iíll drink you sweet tears.

And Iíll comb your petals, Daffodil.

Oh! You wilt. Such is life, dear love. But how can I bear these losses?

Dear! I wilt, too.

I wilt, too.


One more for you, World. This is the last youíll hear from me.


MOM: Jimbo! Hurry up, sweetie. I need you to finish eating quick tonight. Darren has Judo practice and I need you to drive him.


JAMES: Okay, mom. Jesus! Canít I have a little minute to myself?!


MOM: Hey, if donít complain about, Iíll let you drive the Mitsubishi, alright! And donít back talk me, young man.


JAMES: Uhh! This last one is called ďLike the Sharpest Knife.Ē


Simple, short

Iíll tell you my message

You slayed me in the fort,

The fort of your ignorance.

I spit on you, from my grave.

Thatís right, from my grave Iíll spit on your grave.


JAMES: I can feel it start. I sure am glad I finished writing those last thoughts.


James falls forward onto the table, immobile.


MOM: Jimbo! You donít have all day, sugar. Get down here.


MOM: Jimbo!


Mom walks onstage. She sees James and screams, horrified.


She wails for a few seconds then reads the note. Her sobbing subsides.


After a moment of silence, she begins to laugh, covers her mouth to stifle it.


MOM: ďThe crimson wake of tragedy continues.Ē


She canít control herself and cracks up, building for a couple seconds, clapping her hands a couple times.

































Kurt Cobain, Jim Morrison. Now James Ludubski. Add me to your list, World. Youíll be sorry when Iím gone.


mom comes in>horrified (to be acted as well as possible), then she sees the note. She picks it up, starts reading it and laughs a few times, covering her mouth.


remember interruptions from mom, maybe also a little brother or sister (or just mention them, how they need boy to drive them to judo practice or something.)



use direct contradictions to help establish humorous circumstance>keep audience from taking any line too seriously.







I wrote this poem for you

-a series of poems instead? that way you can add an address and explanation in front of each



who is the writer?


middle school


angry about girl trouble?

son of divorceólives with mom

upper middle class



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