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M-E Feb 6
Both on the gallows
A silent wooden, two levels stand.
Cheerings of women and men
Breathless, heartless in unison.
Death wallows and follows
The couple on a noose
****** bruised
Terrified and calm, by holding hands
Prosecuted and sentenced
Criminals in love
rebecca Sep 2018
YouTube videos replace my creepy, old, Chemistry teacher.
I can't keep up in French, and don't ask if I can understand: I can't.
AP World History might put me to sleep in a coffin with all this stress.
I'm much too anxious to be my old, creative self for English class.
Who would have guessed that I look forward to Algebra II,
where things are somehow simple--
where black and white puzzles can be actually be solved.
I'm so stressed I can't do anything to stop being like this
I should be studying.,
I should be reading,
but here I am about to have a mental breakdown
because I'm so **** stressed!
I'm exhausted because I stay up too late,
due to the fact that I'm literally drowning in a sea of papers and books.
I just want to sleep,
but I can't,
I'm too busy worrying about my next exam.
Sorry, but I really needed to write something. I know it's bad, but I am too tired to care, so enjoy.
Poetic T Jun 2018
I sat on decaying desks of reflection.
       My homework, write a moment
                                of life that meant the most.


But this is a theory of retrospective
       collections, tattered and loosely fitting.
Writing in faded inks of yesterday.


Everything I'd wrote was a failure,
                    never amassing a page of meaning.
I knew I wasn't a graduate of life.

Mostly a D minus in the accomplishments of what
I could have wrote. But instead I just
                   dodged classes and ended up a failure.
Trinity Apr 2018
We
Holding hands in the hall
Whispered stares about us.
“How can she have the audacity
To get together with anyone?”
The rumors poison her heart,
Slowing her stride
Until she hides her face away.
“It’s all for attention,” they whisper.
But her love grows more than the rumors.
One year goes by,
Classes go by, and they are happy.
“Look at the *****.
She doesn’t deserve that.”
Two years, graduated with honor.
Loving more than life,
More than the horrid thrown at them.
We can survive.
We are strong.
Our love is growing
Our future is drawing
With hope and trust.
Kaumudi Feb 2018
I was told to write a poem during my French class. The product:

Je ne sais pas cette langue
Je ne sais pas comment écrire des mots et des phrases longues
Je ne sais pas comment faire des poésies françaises
Désolé, je voudrais partir pour aller chez.

Translation:
I don't know this language
I don't know how to write words and long sentences
I don't know how to make French poems
Sorry, I would like to leave so I can go home.
This was my first French poem. Please tell me if I've done any mistakes if you know French.
©2018, La Poésie (The Poem) by Kaumudi.
A rhetorical question finds me asking
(to no one in particular) why I recall
the names of grade school teachers
approximately fifty years ago (whose
names listed below), when the need

to retrieve necessary information due
ring examinations (less time ago)
often found me seized with sudden
inability to remember any vital ants
sirs (even including my name), thus

grudgingly handing over blank test paper
analogously surrendering a vital
document gracing terms of defeat
into the scaly claws (zen nay), sans

first to sixth grade Precambrian relic
(Missus Batson, Missus Rittenhouse,
Missus Wells, Mister Stout,
Missus Shaner, or Miss Rinderle).

Invariably majority of first thru
sixth grade accorded accredited
ancient authenticated creatures.
They freely exercised diabolical

churlish ******* animalistic zeal
us yakking, wickedly unprintable
upon (unprincipled urchin) at
receiving end of fiendishly grue
some hellish instructions. Assign
ments buttressed with ultimatums

harkening back to Jurassic period
earlier in dawning primate con
sciousness. Lesson material kindled
with justifiable license in league
with garnered insignia. Heft

to bring pupils to heal predicated
via warp and weft woven wonder
fully. Wrought writs welcomed
whips with warranty whenever
recalcitrant ruffian refused

respecting reptilian rubric repre
sentative rattling (The Idler Wheel
Is Wiser Than the Driver of
the ***** and Whipping Cords

Will Serve You More Than Ropes
Will Ever Do), which loosely
rendered regularly warbled
wishy washy verse curmudgeons
freedom granted to interpret

as one decrepit, hawkish insignia
certified one beaming Eve and/
or stud deed brute soffit. Education
often relied on the weekly reader,

and letters to and/or from Aunt
Emma. Nefarious mean linkedin
kickstarter jawboning torturous
treatment tolerated, asper imps

of the pervert, mutant Ninja
Turtles duty bound antsy
youthful yokel yodelers
weathering ululating sing-song
and quintessential precepts.
So,
I'm not a bad college student.
We'll start with that.
But,
When I do skip class,
I try to do it on review days.
WHY DO I ALWAYS END UP SHOWING UP ON REVIEW DAYS?

-E (c) 2017
Why is this my life?
J Feb 2017
I put myself in debt
taking classes to learn how to
fix the world's problems
and when I got tired
I tried fixing smaller ones
like broken tables and
broken homes
I paid off loans
to take more lessons
on how to make the world
hurt less
but I did not learn
how to clean up my mess
I tried to learn my pain away
and put all my energy into
saving populations in far places
but never mended my own heart
there isn't a class for that

my friend told me once
the hardest thing to fix
was a broken heart
and he was right
i have 6 degrees
in subjects i loathe
but the thing i loved
i know not where to start
Anxiety
It's the first day of the new semester
All new classes
The second I woke up "will you know anyone? What if people think you're weird? What if you have to sit alone at lunch?"
I finally get to school a half hour early and wonder the halls so I don't have to be awkward sitting in the first class longer than usual
The bell rings
I walk to that second class already knowing someone in there decreases my worry
The bell rings
The bell rings
I get to math knowing this is the class we go to lunch with and if I don't know anyone then I'm doomed
I see someone I know, 2, 3 people
But then she comes in
The one person at the school whom I had a falling out with
And of course she is friends with those 1, 2, 3 people
More than I am
I'm practically a wreck walking to lunch thinking
"Should I just sit in the bathroom? What if I can't find anyone?"
I walk around awkwardly until I see a familiar face that I just sit by to lower the anxiety
Bell rings
Finally 5th hour
A class with no worry
Four people I know
Just then I remember
We get in groups of four
What if they exclude me
Then what
January 26th
Been in school again after two months, how is it?
Well, you think you know where everything is.
The truth is, you don't have the slightest clue.
You end up quickly walking through the halls.
Trying so hard to find each of your classes.
Some you remember right away, some you don't.
Some schools have a ten minute break, like mine.
Which makes it a bit easier for everyone.
Without it, this would have been even worse.
No matter how long you've been at school.
You will still get lost when looking for classes.
This is just a common thing that's gonna happen.
Why? Because it's just inevitable during week 1.
Don't get discouraged, it will get easier, in time.
Until then, make sure to bring your schedule.
Because if you don't, you rely on your memory.
And that's not always reliable all the time.
I learned that the hard way recently, it's tiring.
I forgot to bring my schedule, and was going around in circles. I'm glad to be in the library now after finding where my study hall was lol If you have this same problem, then you know what I mean. Thanks for reading this if you did. And if you commented on it or liked it, then thanks for that too :) Bye!
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