Introvenus feeding tubes for  college kids
Working hard at working hardly
Hardy masses footing parties
Party lines drawn by children
With no idea how or why
We've become the way we are

How'd we get here anyway, whos to say
Its worse, or is it?
(spoiler: it ain't)
Spoiled rich kids writing rules and wrecking homes and holding office
I feel so lost around the passion

Alianted from the ideas
Crafted out of years of bliss
wrapped up in a minute of
Subdermial real world pins

You've seen the half, but not the rest
So let me clue you in

This life isn't a virtue test
Give your horse a decent rest
And get the education
Your parents gifted you

Society is pathetic, and you could transed if you tried
The blind lead the blind when you gouge out your eyes


The Miss, Misters and Mrs.,
And the St. Joseph's Sisters,
Made me a Bluejay,
Jay- jaying and soaring
Over Wrens and Robins
Below in five rows.
Teeth marks on Ticondarogas,
Initialed pink rubbers,
Toothpicks and fingers
Helped with additional problems.

Sister Lucille showed me Sarnia
On the Neilson Wall Map,
The Malted Milk
And Crispy Crunch bars
Were there staring back.
They looked too delicious,
The reprimand was malicious,
I'm doing time during recess,
Ninety minutes before lunch.

We stood in a crooked line,
Like a snake, to get marked,
With her drawer a crack open
We'd get a peek at her strap.
Black and cold,
"Quid Pro Quo.”

We had football baseball,
And hockey dreams,
Volleyball, basketball,
And funeral teams;
Field Days, Holy Days,
Days needed at home;
Teachers were coaches,
With little time to complain;
But then the kids back then
Just weren't the same.
There were skirmishes, fouls,
Strike outs and time outs;
We were a sliced white loaf,
No rye or whole grain.

We'd march double file
Once a week to the Church,
To genuflect and reflect
At the Stations and Cross.
To confess, get redress,
Display penitent remorse,
Though keeping a secret
From the Confessional box.
A symbiotic comfort and curse.

Their objective succeeded,
The lessons went deep;
Good use of the three Rs,
The ABCs, 1, 2, 3's,
To impart and ingraine
How to carry one's cross.

I still know by name
The Miss,  Misters and Mrs.
And St. Joseph's Sisters
Who gave their all, each day, and forever;
All retired or expired,
But remembered quite fondly
For life-lessons I admire.

Neilson Maps were free, and in every classroom advertising their chocolate bars in the corners of the maps.

A lesson to learn through,
Life’s education,
Never taking notice,
From others false speculation,
Judgements made,
Without fact or theory,
Will often put,
A valid point to potential query,
Wise people,
May well never suffer fools,
When equipped,
With life’s essential tools,
But fools will almost,
Certainly be exposed,
When open minds,
Become firmly closed,
If we become blinkered,
That we can no longer see,
We may fail to grasp,
A perfect opportunity,
If eyes are opened,
When foundations are firmly laid,
Success in our endeavours,
Will almost certainly be paid!

Th3rd Apr 15

Salt in my veins
Revolution in my heart
Letting loose the reins
Finally getting a start

Twenty four years later
After my birth
Grabbing the Mercator
Sucking in my girth

No longer ignoring
The calls of the shores
Set forth exploring
Opening the doors

One to a lake
Largest in the West
My option to take
And call it my best

The other a sea
Foreign as mars
Alien life to me
Whole new set of stars

This is my option
Can't be made haphazardly
Not sold at an auction
No time for jackassery

Interviews lined up
Will tell the tale
One for a backup
Should I likely fail

Rhyming is something I do, one day I may leave it behind for the artistic imagery of poetry. But til then rhyme away I will.
Lori Apr 14

my patience cascades down like the drip drip of a leaking
faucet i keep pulling my weight above my head to balance
out the stress my shirt is cropped to my waist a slight raise
of arm is a revelation of a world without questioning the habits
of mind phil-osophy that keeps telling me my thoughts and
experiences need to reach gravity a force unseen and invincible
you think you can let me trace the lines you dotted out for me
challenge the constellation i set out to follow so you can trap me in a box saying think flexibly this is the truth respond
with me in wonderment and awe
since you said to push
your box down a hill take a risk with me responsible
or not you're not allowed to fail but remain open to
continuous learning
think about your mistakes your
backwards thinking some metacognition will do you
good tell it all tattle all to your teacher it's thinking
because we value team work and
conformity not individuality and don't worry if it's too
much we are listening watching you **with
understanding and empathy
since you might be
persisting unrelenting to questioning and
problem solving
the loss of our authority see
the art of submission to authority is lost in your
generation that's why journaling the quality of
the habits of your mind is the solution to your lack
of creating, imagining and innovating
in a closed lid box necessity is the mother of invention
after all we are just churning out your land of milk and
honey we are finding humor in this style of learning
a new wave of apathy must be in place or else we
can't teach you thinking and communicating with clarity
and precision
we can't let you allow bias and hesitation
in the way we are striving for accuracy that you be
the student and child society and your parents want you
to be that's why we are gathering data through all senses
on your health to ensure the quality and payoff of their
investment child it's time you learn of applying past
we've proven you can't win against our
leader's AshkeNAZI intellect to eradicate the requirement
of the judgement of your own intellect in the form
of repressive anticlimactic required in every subject
unnecessary self confidence destroying
habits of mind journaling

Inspired by the 16 Habits of Mind. You should check it out if you haven't heard it before. It's used in schools. I think it's a good idea with good intentions but they can be taught in a different way rather than picking a few for every subject and asking a student to write their experiences that fit the HOM. But there's a catch, there's a rubric that makes it impossible to get a good grade in something as simple as journaling and sharing your experience.
The Lonely Bard Apr 12

If I were a girl,
I would write poems of hope.

If I were a girl,
I would fly high with the wings of eternity.

If I were a girl,
I would enjoy my superior existence.

If I were a girl,
I would respect the future mother in me.

If I were a girl,
I would help the helpless get education.

Even though I am a boy,
I still write poems of hope.

Even though I am a boy,
I still try to fly with my wings.

Even though I am a boy,
I marvel at my uncanny existence.

Even though I am a boy,
I respect the caring future father in me

Even though I am a boy,
I have helped the helpless get education.

My HP Poem #1492
©Atul Kaushal
Kakashi sensei Mar 27

What is it?,
Gaining information,
But what i see,
Is memorizing textbooks,
Forgetting after exams,
Or that's what happens,
In my country,
This is suffering,
How is this teaching,
How is someone supposed,
To grow and live with this?,
I'm grateful i get education,
I'm fortunate,
But I'm still in a cage,
I'm not yet free,
Burden of studies,
Burden from parents,
Burden from grades,
Why judge someone strongly,
With grades,
Grades, marks, point is assessment,
Of skill,
Not the whole life,
I personally don't understand,
How this world works.

I have realized i can't do anything in my last poem i made, not that its impossible, but there is a huge iron cast gate stopping me!
Pagan Paul Mar 2

(Children's poem)
I'd like to sit
still and serenely
But I can't
I'm the Queen Bee.

A Queens work
is never through
there is always
something to do.

I'm laying eggs
and filling cells
and letting out
my secret smells.

I make sure
the hive is clean
and not littered
with perils unseen.

I caught Veroa
the other week
glucoside syrup
fixed me a treat.

But all of this
has its cost,
Oh! How I wish
I was born a wasp.

© Pagan Paul (16/06/16)

About a year ago I did a bee-keeping course. A week or so later a friend challenged me to write a children's poem. A couple of weeks later these two experiences collided in my head and this poem spilled out.
Its educational in so much as children can ask about certain things in the poem and a teacher can then explain them. Thus explaining how bees and hives work and interact, the many secretions beside honey that they produce etc.
Poem was published on

preface: this isn't cohesive, and it's mostly a side effect of having too much free time while stuck in traffic - lots of thoughts can pop into your half-awake head when you choose to start your 1 hour, 45 minute commute at 5:30 every morning and 6:30 every night.

these are some of those thoughts:

how many car accidents and concussions will it take for me to just move closer to where i work? apparently, more than five.

driving on a california freeway, especially in the rain, is like getting a free ride on the world's most dangerous slip n slide. or like playing roulette and praying you and your precious car you have had since high school don't fall victim to the misfortune of a collision or sink hole or only clear radio station being the one that won't stop playing adele songs that compel you to hit up your ex boyfriend again.

but you're a smart driver who doesn't text on the road or date men from new jersey anymore.

i like to map out new ways to tell my family that i'm actually kind of really gay because they've been having a really hard time accepting that, despite the fact that i've tried to make it as blatantly obvious as i could by dressing like chandler bing from friends, dying my hair rainbow, and listening to more fleetwood mac than any straight girl should.

i have even walked up to my mother and outright asked her, "hey, what's it like having a gay daughter?" (not that it should be any different than having any other kind of daughter), and she said, "i don't have a gay daughter", and i'm like, "oh my god, mom. yes, you do. she's 5'8", looks just like me, and is constantly talking about how gay she is."

a lot of people have given me unwarranted "advice" on how to make myself more appealing for jobs or romance, and i'll mull it over in the car, but not for too long because women aren't empty suggestion boxes just waiting for your input.

if anything, i'm more like the receptionist at the DMV. i'm only listening to you a third of the time, and the other 2/3, i wish you weren't there to bore me with your problems because it's not my fault that you need to pay off a ticket you got for texting your ex boyfriend from jersey.

people in college frequently asked me "what are you?" and i never really knew how to respond because i wasn't clear or pleased about the question's context or purpose. i would half-seriously respond with "i'm a sophomore" or "i'm a capricorn" or "i'm a sociology major who just realized gender isn't binary and taco tuesdays are a real and exciting thing".

i knew that being ethnically ambiguous meant i would be subjected to guessing games, but i thought if people didn't know what you were, you could dodge judgment and racism. but no, i actually just found myself treated like an ice cream flavour people had never heard of or tried before and weren't sure how they felt about it.

and i, myself, had been in this phase of dating exclusively white men for years, and it only recently occurred to me that that was probably because subconsciously i knew: "this is the closest i'll ever be to having white privilege".

then, i started working in schools where almost all the students were black and brown, and for the first time in my life, i saw myself in people around me.

small people, people in progress, with big brown eyes and clenched fists that i would spend months prying open

with love.

enough love to raise a hand,
hold a pencil,
braid my hair on days when it was so frizzy
- "oh my god, miss sangha, let me do it"

up until then, i had never chosen to be brown or queer or a woman. not until my students demanded i learn spanish because i already got the skin tone, now i just need to learn the language. not until my students asked me why the school made them line up boy girl, and one of them started the third line with pride that took me nearly a decade to find myself. not until i stopped letting people label me an angry bitch just because they lacked the vocabulary to say "wow, jaswin, you have really assertive leadership skills and i'm going to respect you and the space you take up and not at all be threatened or bothered by the fact that you have two X chromosomes to the point of harassing you to make my insecure self feel better."

i became someone who got "do it for the kids" tattooed on the left side vein that leads to her heart, someone who chooses her students every day to the extent of being terrified of having her own kid one day because if she can love someone else's child that much, her heart might just burst from locking eyes with someone whose existence she is actually directly responsible for.

clearly, i'm not going to let a little traffic slow down that kind of radical love.

2 Corinthians 9:8 "And God is able to bless you abundantly, so that in all things at all times, having all that you need, you will abound in every good work."

In the gleam
of the morning sunrise
i saw the blooming
of the seed of faith;
strength to live
another day,
peace to let go
of yesterday,
for the journey ahead.

I am blessed
going in and going out;
wherever I go
I carry the beauty-mark of success
eternal happiness
because I believe
I am blessed
because you love me
I am alive
because you touched me

And eventhough
it may not be an easy road
i recognize
that you are here with me,
there to guide my eyes to see,
hold my hand and lead me
through treacherous trail of every trial
until I get to promised land
of milk and honey.

I am blessed

This was custom poem I did for one of my twitter followers. Currently I am raising money to study abroad in China or Africa. In honor of my academic achievement during graduate study I have been nominated to participate in the Laureate International Scholar Program, a program in which you study international relations and diplomacy in either China or Africa. I have started a gofundme page to raise the money I need to go and as a thank you for any donation I am offering to write custom poems. If you are interested and would like to know more information about the program and trip I will leave the link to my gofundme page below! If you decide to donate make sure to comment with your email address and the subject of the poem you would like and I will email you one. I appreciate any help! Thanks in advance!! Also if you could share the link on your social media outlets that would be of great help as well.
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