At the back of the class, that's where we sit
Me, Byron, Elliot, Plath and Keats
and as the teacher walks in
Shakespeare with a apple, doth appear

Shakespeare always sits with Marlowe
we know he copies his works
he holds on to his coat tails
and the end of his Hessian shirts

Byron has brought some whiskey in
he passes it under table in a silver flask
teacher says what the hell is going on
so we throw the flask to Plath

He points his finger at me, that teacher
shouts come here you stupid boy
I walk to his desk head down
and try my best to look coy

He asks me for my homework
to see what I have written
I roar here you are Sir, loud
for I am no ****** kitten

He looks at my work and tut's
says you will never be a great
I tell him to f*ck himself
oh no, what a big mistake

At the back of the class
they start to giggle
Keats, Plath and Byron
Elliot holds out, just wriggles

I continue my retort with little time and much thought
Sir I will have more dog ears in my poetry books
then all the kennels in London and give him a V
so expelled I will be, to the bad boys school of poetry


By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris