You’ve made it;
They love you.

You’ve really made it;
They hate you.

I see the girl inside my mirror
With glossy hazel eyes
No one knows except for her
The reasons why she cries

I reach my hand out to hers
As hers reach out for mine
As our hands both touch the glass
We’ll stare for quite some time

I don’t know how to help her
But I do know how she feels
Sometimes she’ll wish the world she’s in
Was never really real

I wipe away my tears and smile
So perhaps she’ll feel okay
She returns a smiles back at me
And wipes her tears away

I’m not quite sure who she is
I’m guessing nor does she
I guess that means I don’t know myself
For the girl in the mirror is me

He calls the others lazy
When they do not do his deeds
For blame cannot be placed on him
When the blame's on you and me

He says that they're not busy
And they should play their part
Why should they it's not their mess
Its yours you lazy ****!

But calling others lazy
Doesn't take the blame off you
In order to make progress
Someone must get up and do

She silently swings waving bye to her grief
Floating free like a fallen autumn leaf
A perfect mute to the sorrow she sang
How heavily her heart hangs

                                                                     Not tied with a rope all tight in a noose
                                                           ­   But wrapped in a ribbon so silky and loose
                                                                        Bound by a warm and beautiful bow
                                                                    So easy to break free but she doesn't go
                                                              ­         The color so read of her saving ribbon                                                            Rubs off on her heart and repaints it crimson
                                                         It brings her a smile and a warmth to her core
                                                            ­            Slowly but surely the beat is restored

Before I ever went to school
I thought I knew it all
I could count to ten and back again
And bounce a rubber ball

I could spell my name with no mistakes,
Knew 1 and 1 is 2,
Knew how to say the alphabet
And how to tie my shoe.

Then I went to school and found I didn’t know a lot.
There was so much stuff I had to know I mostly just forgot.
Music, art, and English, physics, bio, French, and math.
Social studies, history, so much stuff it made me laugh.

My younger self had no idea how much more there was to know
The more I aged the more I knew the more I’d learn and grow.
When I finished high school I was smarter than before
I knew I didn’t know it all so I went back to learn some more.
  
This time when I went to school I wasn’t so naïve.
I knew I’d have to hit the books in order to achieve.
If grade school was confusing I figured college would be worse.
If I was going to expand my mind I should expect a lot of work.

There was a lot more subjects and they took a lot more time.
I wondered how there could be room to store so much knowledge into just one mind.
You know that feeling that you get when there’s so much knowledge you feel as though
If they feed you any more of it your head just might explode?
My mind was like a barrel that was filled up past the brim with rocks
And when you tried to add one more, then two would trickle off.
I thought that I would have to quit but there was still so much I didn’t know.
But I chose to stay though doom seemed near because I didn’t want to go.

With failure in my future I bit my lip and I pressed on.
In time I noticed something odd, some of the rocks were gone.
But the rocks had not been falling out as I tossed more in from my hand
They simply had begun to change from rocks right into sand.

All these things I knew
Were now all becoming one
Witch made more room for knowing more
And knowing once more was fun

It wasn’t like when I was small
And thought I knew it all.
But the ease of it was similar
I felt more on the ball.

I recalled before I went to school
And 4 things that I knew:
Spell my name, and 1+1,
ABCs, and tie my shoe.

The one main thing that I know now
That I didn’t know before
This list of things I knew is 2
It isn’t really 4.

Because I know my adding
It is very clear to see
I tie with laces 1 and 2
Not laces 1 and 3.

I spell my name with no mistakes
Because I know my ABCs.
It doesn’t mean that I know less
I just know with much more ease.

At first the more you know and know
The bigger is the mess.
But when it comes together
The load becomes much less

For when your barrel is so full
You think it will explode
The rocks will blend together
And you’ll have more room to grow.

Twas the night of a strike when all through the school yard
Not a teacher was stirring, not even a guard.
The boys were all gaming, the girls in their sweats
all anxiously waiting to return to their desks

The students were nestled all snug in their beds,
While the linger of alcohol danced in their heads.
Though some were quite worried, and some didn't give a crap,
We all settled our brains for a long winter’s nap.

When out from head office there arose such a clatter
We sprang from our beds, "a resolution to the matter!?"
Away to our laptops we quickly did dash,
Tore open our emails, our inbox did flash.

The glow of the message that appeared on the screen
Gave a glimmer of hope from what it had seemed.
Then what to our wandering ears should they hear?
But a tentative agreement. (its meaning is unclear).

The vote in its favor would allow the agreement to stick
But everyone knew it would have to be quick
Everyone waited to hear what they’d say
We quickly found out we’d go back on Monday

Now students, now staff, and all workers alike
Professors, librarians, we’ve finished the strike!
To the top of the hill, to the top of our game
Its back to the books so let’s wake up our brains

But then we all wonder what is yet to be done
As we meet with an obstacle, because such time has gone
With all this time off, the courses, they flew,
We’ve lost so much time now what will we do?

And then, in a twinkling, that appeared on the screen
There was a revised schedule from the UNB team
As we drew in our heads and then read the jot.
We knew in a moment it was just as we thought.

The term’s been extended until April 17th
And exams will take place in that month’s final week
And the very fear that made everyone shake
It cannot be so but it’s true… No March break.

The poor wide eyed students saw their dreams slip away
“But I already paid for the flight for my vaycay!”
It doesn’t seem fair that we pay for this fumble
But that’s just the way the cookie crumbles

On the optimist side, if it makes you feel better
At least we don’t have to throw out the semester
We all can return to our classes with ease
And we won’t have wait to complete our degrees.

So let’s use these few days to complete our unwind
Come Monday we’re all heading back to the grind.
But when we are stressing few weeks down the road
Remember the strike when you complained you were bored.

As we rise from our beds we will let out a chuckle
When we realize it’s been weeks since we’ve worn pants that buckle
And we’ll recognize the sunrise when we get out of bed.
But it won’t rise as we’re sleeping, but waking instead.

We’ll turn on our cars and our engines will whistle
And we’ll scrape off the ice and the snow with a bristle.
But they’ll hear us exclaim as we drive out of sight
"Happy learning to all, and an end to the strike!”

We live on a sphere
Floating through a black abyss.
That is pure magic

“The money is pure evil,
It brings us so much stress.
It isn’t fair we pay for food
And shelter and all the rest.
I wish there was no money
Then the world could live in peace
And no one would have less than others
And we’d all have food to eat.”

Could it really be that easy
If all in life were free?
If money were to go away
Then would too the greed?

Before the money, strong prevailed
By taking what they please.
Now it is the strongest minds
Who rise and take the lead.

Don’t you see the money
Stands for what was always there?
But the money somehow takes the blame
For the lazy man’s despair.

If it wasn’t for the money,
Would the whole world then be fair?
Or would the strongest still prevail?
Imagine, if you dare.

Wings once whisked the air with wonder
Propellers chop like axes through steady grain

The buzz of a bumble bee brisk and with grace
The sting’s in the grind of machines’ rusty chains

The leaves would shuffle humble and happy
Newspapers crackle inflicting a pout

Flowers were scattered like old vintage lace  
From plants to brown bags they’re now littered about