I live in my head More than the outside world Details go unnoticed And I perceive events as images and emotional swirls The others don’t understand They think I’m careless Or bizarre But I’m content in this land where none of the people are
Some time ago one went on a little trip* To check out the internet poetry landscape What one saw remained in the mind's tape A movie reel which had a compelling grip Poet's comments were of such cliquish old rock Like being an exclusive remarking club Outsider verses left out of their hub The scenery verily stunned one with much shock One so wishes one had not gone away A dream of venturing did disenchant The roads lead to (an in house favouring) After sighting the terrain's mode of sway Taking a journey one may well recant *These vistas weren't enjoyable savouring
Forsaken in the coldest corridors of the cruelest institutions. Colleagues converge like cows in slaughterhouses unswervingly hasten to assigned lockers filled with noted secrets and academic paraphernalia. Allies and adversaries divide into tribes and cliques as the diplomat amongst them all frolics freely in a meadow of segregation. Hypercritical eyes gawk and murmur as they silently denounce their modesty and uphold delusions of grandeur and narcissism. Real geniuses organize their chiffoniers in the most haphazardly fashions and achieve systematical creativity. Popularized pretty faces and well shaped bodies that hold solutions to every life's problem and are adored by so many, have the ugliest insides, bloated bellies and more skeletons in their closets then they let anyone know. Blustering bullies can't cope with Cadillac comfort and take rage and aggression out by downgrading educated eggheads with verbal assault and quarrelsome quirks to make themselves feel better. Poncho hooded hippies and recreational reefers congregate to the abyss of lost souls in knitted footbag circles. Faceless, heartless, mindless, bloodthirsty jockstraps reach for the lowest stars of temporary popularity and fame amongst other classmates that they hold up in high regards. From the athletics department to the art classes, from pep rally's to assemblies, from extracurricular activities to smoking in bathroom hangouts, from making out in stairwells to passing each other drawings of stink-lined teachers, they all feast like it's Thanksgiving on mystery meat Mondays in the cafeteria. Fruitless alma mater is a useless tool that doesn't apply to real life and adulthood, other than to achieve fabricated diplomas and degrees through their system of education to get a higher paying job and upper management to pay off student loans in this never ending circle of solipsism. Cobwebbed libraries hold old dusty books containing more useful knowledge than school can provide and teach you what you're actually interested in to help you through the hardships of life but there is no reward for self-education in this saddened world.