A captured thought thrashes inside my chest,
As the droning teacher drills out his behest.
His lecture lulls us with impervious haze,
As the wandering pupils observe in a daze.

My captive prisoner rages to reach outside,
But I fail to arise, I'm shut up, tongue-tied.
The captain now slowly sails the ship away
Completely unaware of the treasure left astray.

I found how infrequently some points or lines could align with a hyperplane.
It sounds way harder than it was, probably because I used to not know the succession of steps to learn about R^n and the hyperplane.
They are easy to grasp but it used to not be as easy as 1,2,3.
But it really is a simple plane in n-1 dimensions of R^n.
Yet when I first encountered the word some years ago, it was quite mesmerizing.
I think math will always be mesmerizing except if I've encountered it in pedagogy.
With this understanding, I know that all math is stepwise succession within its branch.
But somehow this leaves things undone, probably because I can't cheat true and tried pedagogy.
That's what I really want to do.

To Friday five I apologise,
to my profession and charges
I weaken and give mummers tales,
avoid holes of attention
that tired souls give in to

I love my responsibilities hotly
but there are ends to means,
so weekly turns have starts
which Mondays begin

Do it for the love of thee,
The fatigue and wisdom of teaching,
Vest it to them and let their minds be free.

Hand it through pedagogy,
Though exhausted of standing and talking,
Do it for the love of thee.

Pass the values forgotten by society,
The pearls and artifacts impossible of seeing,
Vest it to them and let their minds be free.

Praise them for practicing courtesy,
But scold until they are breaking,
Do it for the love of thee,

For they should learn that life is tricky,
The truth that people are forever coming and going,
Vest it to them and let their minds be free.

Teach to continue the legacy,
For the future needs more heavy crafting,
Do it for the love of thee,
Vest it to them and let their minds be free.

no one laughs the dead houses
line the streets i
never had anything
before the ritz and lsd
funnelled into shopping malls
hypnagogic life
taught whither wither
a dying world.

I have been a therapist, and
I've been therapied
The brightest and the best
Have had a go at me

It hurt like hell, I tried to hide,
I wouldn't run away
The truth would out, for all to see,
All to see, but me

I learned to face my fear,
Be more honest, and more brave
I played a silly game
You see there was no face to save

We're mistaken and mislead
Down the twisted garden path
With the weather and the leather
To the bitter Grapes of Wrath

From the poisoned pedagogy
We recover one fine day
Our long suffering Tsunami  
Will finish like a play


Sean Hunt
(Sierra de Gredos mountains,  Spain...2015?)