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Äŧül Sep 27
Its oil lit up by tiny sparks,
The night lamp in the corner glows.

Its light fills up this room,
The love flower is waiting to bloom.

The noise is from the loom,
Its expression will mute the gloom.
My HP Poem #1774
©Atul Kaushal
If metal music racket and a straight jacket
can clog the corporations cogs,
then unemployable bleach blond anarchists turning white coats into black cloaks
is when  tattoos and pierced ears
become a parents worst fears.

We walk with untucked shirts and short skirts, wearing  a students mask
I hide a whiskey flask
in a blue blazer pocket  
knowing  dam well they can't stop it
if I walk with a lit cigarette in the parking lot past a parent, it's inherent that since they can't beat us anymore we won't join them.

But I'm not scared.

Because their clone army won't harm me.
Just like the microwave rays the crazies raved on about in the good old days
when disco was king and Justin didn't sing,
back when ADHD wasn't real,
and depression was just no big deal.


So call me a student psychopath armed with a devilish laugh as i bounce round a rubber room in a tin foil hat
refusing to be the systems lab rat.
So they call me a rebel as I lay back in revel watching the rabbit hole unfold
as a thousand sheep break the mold
that the man made when red writing atop a page became how we wage a child's worth.



So the sheep that march through the flames
immerge adorning robes of rebellion,
as the sounds of so many chains severed symphonies through the generation
marking many young minds escaping the confines society's shoved down indoctrinated throats.
Amy asked for
Brian's basket,
Casey almost blew a gasket.
Daniel went to summer school,
Ethan thinks he's super cool.
Fiona fell right on the floor,
Gabby laughed and laughed some more.
Hugo got the heebie-jeebies,
Isaac loves to score some freebies.
Jess is top in all her classes,
Kylie needs her reading glasses.
Lyra loves to sing a song,
Maggie never thinks she's wrong.
Noah broke his little nose,
Oliver drinks right out the hose.
Penny poses for a photo,
Quincy's dragon's a Komodo.
Ryan thinks his dog has rabies,
Stuart's cat just had some babies.
Tommy likes to play baseball,
Ursula likes the season fall.
Violet plays the violin,
Wyatt's strength comes from within.
Xavier needs all
Your attention,
Zane just got his tenth detention.
Arisa Mar 12
i sit here in this classroom,

detached.

away from the others
while the tutor's voice blends into the walls
and i fail to melt into it with others' ears.
I wish I could focus in class.
Ciel Mar 8
Sleepless nights,
gallons of coffee,
regretful decisions at primitive parties
with the cheapest alcohol that can be found,
stress-filled hours at the library,
followed by binge-eating sessions
staring in a textbook that is
worth more than my soul,
just to take a test that will determine
what my life becomes.

Oh, but what a glamorous life
college students lead.
She came home
Still in her school outfits
She hugged me tight
With tears rolling down her eyes
She was filled with fright
'it happened so fast,
' This is all i have'
She mumbled as she cried
Apparently there had been a strike
Students burnt down the dormitories
And refused to attend class
The teachers to afraid
Were out of sight
The police had to intervene
Causing a clash
With rubber bullets, mallets
And tear gas
The police squashed and beat
The students hard
With stones, sticks and any tangible object that could be held
The students retaliated
Just to ******* the armed blue men
Thumping of boots
Shouting and screams
Bullets fling
There was circus in school
The students were sent home
Suppressed without giving
Them a chance to talk
A conflict resolved
With no interest in the
Root cause
Two nights are long
Another school catches
Fire
The dormitories are down
Then you'll here them ask
Where have we gone wrong?

Akwana Wa Odera
@therealakwana
© 2018
School fires in Kenya were so rampant last year
I see the students looking at me as I teach
I see their bored, dull faces
I see anxiety, and the deep, passionate boredom of angsty teens
I hear them behind me as I write on the board for them to learn

About Walt, about list-poems, and life, you see
They are whispering and think I do not hear
True story
A Flowered Tux Dec 2018
I am the best of the best,
and you can put it to the test
but you will find
that only I am sublime.

Yet, why do I feel this way,
angry and repressed
tired and distressed.
Irritation is my constant state.
and it is increasing at an alarming rate.

Maybe if I could just null the emotion,
To sink beneath the waves of ocean,
To get lost in all the commotion,
To fall in love with self-devotion,
but, no,
forget I even made the notion,
of doing something like letting go.

For it's too easy a way out,
and I will not leave a doubt
that I am here to stay,
much to my own dismay.

Why?
Because, I am the best of the best.
And I have put that to the test.
for better or worse,
my intelligence is a curse.
What it's like to be in the top 2% in high school class standing.
Smriti Gupta Dec 2018
Unknown to every one we settled down,
All had entered from the same door brown.
Some smiled while the others cried,
All I did was to look at the blackboard wide.

Within a few days we learned to be glad.
We all enjoyed but still some were sad.
Everyone started making new friends,
All because of boredom and lends.

Ma'am Mala who taught us everythng was so sweet.
In the lunch break the view of the class wasn't so neat !
I selected the set of humans I loved,
Within them one was my dove.

We grew up together playing, enjoying, dancing and crying...
Our confined brains dealing with the heart's dying.
From watching dragon tales with breakfast,
We moved to studying till 12 past

Abuses we said day and night,
But they never made us fight...
Java codes were too long to understand,
But friend's story always continued with another 'and'.

All these moments don't need a backup,
Somwhere between ABC & Aey! BC we all GREW UP.
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