A Cheesy Poem for The Weeknd

A Poem by CLBombay

Really cheesy, but so worth it. You could almost say he earned it.

This is a poem for my new favorite artist.
I know, I know, rather cheesy,
I mean, it’s a bit cheesy that your angelic falsetto that hits every note
we’ve only dreamed of hearing can compel me to write a poem about you.

To all of your fans, I’m a poser because I only discovered you
after you hit the mainstream and even writing this poem for you
means I’m just another woman wishing you were
looking at her when you spit that poetic genius in melodic form on the YouTube airwaves.
I mean, I’m twice the size of the models you feature in your music videos,
but the way you stare into me from the inside of my computer screen
makes me feel like I actually stand a chance.

I discovered you when I realized that only you
could take mere sounds from this Earth and make them into holy pillars of music,
making the pillars reach past the line of standard human capability
and mix it with the most desperately reaching lyrics,
making the meaning even more intense,
complicated,
and downright more glorious than even your hair.

I needed you when I found you because whatever song it was,
singing about b*****s and hoes just felt right
when, although I do my best to seem like a proper lady,
you made it very clear you have had a lot of experience
with b*****s and hoes and that it was perfectly fine for me
to be a hoe, stumbling around, not having a f*****g clue what I was doing.
It’s okay to be a hoe, while working on whatever artistic inkling I had in my body
even when being damaged makes it a tad more difficult.
So continue giving me the satisfaction that
you’re entranced by hoes, and as a girl, only you can convince me to put in that work.

I don’t have to tell my friends about it, the killer entity of your sound, when you
give pieces of your stupid soul to the masses,
being talented enough for people to actually listen to what
you created.
I mean, being a bird for you must get easier when you’ve
got us crawling for you in every state you migrate to.
And I’ll never feel as beautiful as when your smooth
mating call flows through the chords on my speakers,
hoping that I, this stupid Midwestern girl, will maybe
get one step closer to working it so much that I earn it…
whatever “it” may be.

What can I say?
I’m glad we’re acquainted,
even if it’s bobbing my head through every
song in public,
hoping that although I have the inability to know you personally,
I can at least know you’ll give all you’ve got, musically.

© 2016 CLBombay

Author's Note

Disclaimer: I have put some of the Weeknd's lyrics in this poem and in no way do I believe they are my lyrics. They belong to the Weeknd.
Also, I consider this more of a spoken word.
And if you think I'm weird for writing this poem, I totally understand. It was just fun to write haha.