#englishclass
We were asked, "What are your strengths and weaknesses?"
I kept looking at the paper as if it was written in an ancient language.
I repeated the question in my head, I'll think of something, right?
Such a simple question, yet my mind was blank.
I could think of so many weaknesses, but so little strengths.
Were strengths something I had to excel at? Do I just lie?
I couldn't mention a strength, I didn't want to seem arrogant.
I couldn't mention a weakness either, so I wouldn't seem like an attention seeker!
It felt funny, I could mention the strengths of those around me,
When it came to myself I was just empty.
Time was fleeting, it was running out,
The more I thought about it, the worse it got.
I began thinking of all the stuff I was good at, or so I thought.
"No, no, no, no!" Why couldn't I think of anything? Was I just talentless?
Why was I so bad at everything?
May 13, 2025
May 13, 2025 at 2:36 PM UTC
With plastic crown atop his head
and draped in splendid royal red,
he arched his back and struck a pose
to loud applause from costume rows:
the pilgrims bowed and paid respects,
all masks and hats his new subjects,
the ghouls and ghosts saluted too,
and, standing tall, he liked the view.
When spinning 'round to win more cheers
from Mother who must be in tears
to see her son no longer small–
but as a lord, a god, of all,
he found that he was there alone
and where she'd gone he did not know.
Forgetting all his lofty dreams,
he felt unraveled at the seams–
the costumes then all came alive,
with teeth and blood and crazy eyes.
The king who once was lord of all,
lay crying, sobbing, feeling small.
A hand then pressed upon his back–
his mom had found the royal rack,
and wiping tears from burning eyes,
he wished he'd trusted his disguise.
Oct 6, 2020
Oct 6, 2020 at 12:15 PM UTC
the
thoughts
in my
mind
float
around
until they
come
together.
Feb 19, 2019
Feb 19, 2019 at 10:00 AM UTC
There were five people from a tiny town;
This town they lived in seemed all upside down.
Where everyone's values were different,
But everyone had the same commitment.
On this pilgrimage, they came together,
In the lovely fall weather.
The pilgrimage was to Capitol Hill,
To convince the government to pass the bill.
For now, they are just taking a short break,
To start the government for goodness sake.
All the pilgrims met through the site Macebook,
Discovered everyone with just one look.
The conspirator made the creepy site,
Who lured the followers into the light.
This is how we do it in the new age;
When you click the mouse once to like a page.
But by far the most difficult conflict,
Is to make the government not as strict.
They traveled in 2013,
They began their travel in a ravine.
In the submarine they consumed cheesecake,
Swallowing their pride to fix their heartache.
Dec 19, 2018
Dec 19, 2018 at 5:17 PM UTC
We don't have to sit back and try to fit
We don't have to toughen up and be a hypocrite
We can take and stand and change it
This isn't where we make shallow friends
This isn't where our story ends
This is how we overcome the dead-ends
Our reputation changes with us
Our reputation is not superfluous
Our reputation will not be our Aeacus
Don't try to fit in and stay bowed
Don't look down make sure your head is up proud
Don't be one of the crowd
Dec 19, 2018
Dec 19, 2018 at 3:11 PM UTC
I worked so hard, not even drawn
Now all my work is far gone
It was beautiful like a butterfly
It just melted so bye bye
The fly I carved of butter is now gone
The Nazis took our electricity now everything is gone
Without the cold it melted away
Now my tools will just decay
A storm is brewing, we need more help
The Nazis make me want to yelp
Sep 19, 2018
Sep 19, 2018 at 11:15 AM UTC
I am from the hills
from a place where all you can see and smell are pine trees
I am from nowhere yet somewhere
from the yellow grass that flows with the wind.
I am from the bobcat growls and owl hoots
from deer prancing across the open fields.
I am from scorching summer heat
from the cold winter blizzards
with which I remember the heat of the fire
warding me from the evil chill.
I am from old movies and music
from action figures and Legos.
I am from the nerd brigade
from the straight-A club.
I am from a place where knowledge is power
and power is everything
From deja vu and nightmares
from which my mind is scared and perplexed.
I am from the teachings given by Master Yoda
“Fear is the path to the dark side
fear leads to anger,
anger leads to hate,
hate leads to suffering.”
and the advice given by Mace Windu
“Be mindful of your feelings”
from all those friends who also helped me along
In my room was Star Wars everywhere
With Han Solo on the dresser, away from the Millenium Falcon.
With Yoda on the computer desk, giving wisdom to all who work.
With young Anakin on the bookshelf, dreaming of his future.
I am from those moments
to which I want to forget.
Painful, memories are.
Oct 18, 2017
Oct 18, 2017 at 9:39 PM UTC
He clenches her throat,
Squeezing her jugular with abrasive, demanding hands,
Hands that used to smell of flower stems and home.
Those roses had long ago died,
Seeped into the kitchen tiles.
Feminine hands search frantically, helplessly,
She mumbles into his beat red face,
Begging God for help.
He dominates her, crushes her, blankets her in darkness.
Vision blurs, blood pulses furiously to her head.
She tries to scream out the window,
The door,
The unseen skylight,
Into the crowded streets.
Everything looks normal from the outside,
Shutters drawn just so, the chimney smoking seductively in whispers.
Passenger's see the house as a sanctuary, a safe haven.
Inside, the walls are beat, bloodied, and bruised,
Displaying black and blue marks,
Harmonizing with her beautiful brown skin.
"I love you too much," he groans pushing deeper into her flesh,
Forcing his bleached fingers into her tormented soul.
A soul that had been whole once,
Before he came, before she let him take hold,
Before he became God.
She gasps as fluttering images invade her mind,
Her daughters' precious smiles, brown curls,
Cloaking her dark mind in light,
Filtering through the clouds.
Liquor breaks the mirage,
Forcing her back into the present.
He's pressing his swollen lips to her forehead,
Soaking in her sober, filling his nostrils with her scent.
He still looks beautiful.
He looks like the man she married at 17.
He looks God-like.
He is God.
Heartbeat slows, pulse un-rhythmically beats,
Blackness devours her eyes, shutting out the perfectly formed home.
All that's left is the soft giggles of her daughters'
Echoing through her empty body.
But, at least she sees angels.
May 5, 2017
May 5, 2017 at 3:35 PM UTC
I was going to do my homework
Then the washer went off
And the clothes reaped of daisies
And all I could think of were flowers
Sooner or later my homework will be done
Then a deer interrupted my thoughts
Grazing on the grass
I gazed from my window
I haven’t seen one this close
I meant to be productive
Till a woodpecker pecked
And a mockingbird sang a verse
While a hawk belted the chorus
They formed a little bird band.
Wait…
What was I gonna do again?
Feb 6, 2017
Feb 6, 2017 at 11:24 AM UTC
Distractions, distractions,
beautiful, shiny, noisy distractions
They flutter around my head
and their iridescent wings brush against my cheeks
My ears are smothered by the sound of their whispers
so I give up ignoring,
because the sound of their mindless singing
is much more beautiful
than a discussion of a king, his daughters, and an illegitimate son.
Jan 13, 2016
Jan 13, 2016 at 1:24 PM UTC
Silently thinking about
all things not English
while my classmates discuss
King Lear
I'm just not focused
on insanity and poisonings
and hubris and honor and fate
I'd much rather spill my thoughts
onto this blank white box
Silent musings of all things not English
while my classmates discuss King Lear.
Jan 13, 2016
Jan 13, 2016 at 1:21 PM UTC
Well, where has Lear’s fool gone?
He’s simply disappeared from the plot.
Some say that he still walks on,
But I heard that he was left to rot.
A sparrow on the grapevine told me
That he perished by old rival’s hand
Old hatred blinded him so he could not see
As he descended into a darker land.
His rival struck him in the dark of the night
He took the Fool down without a sound
And pulled the body out of sight
He faded into shadows just before the guard could complete his round.
And now Lear’s poor Fool rests underneath an ash tree
His spirit whispering “Never again will a rhyme come from me.”
Jan 11, 2016
Jan 11, 2016 at 1:42 PM UTC
The instructor said,
Go home and write
a page tonight.
And let that page come out of you—
Then, it will be true.
I wonder if life could really be that simple?
I am twenty, confused, and clinically depressed
I went to therapy, then to inpatient, and now I’m home
to this house that I’ve known since birth,
Depression is not the only thing I feel, so it is not all of me.
But the path down this road has been long, and dark,
Going up hills and making turns, that got me lost sometimes,
But I’m starting to see the light of day,
Everything happens for a reason they say.
My journey isn’t over yet, but I’ll tell you what I’ve learned:
I’m not easy to understand, but nobody is,
at twenty, my age. But I know I am not just what
I feel and see and hear. Instead I am also what
I think, and say, and do. Aren’t we all?
The things that define me, aren’t only in my head.
They can be read, and heard, and seen,
My words spoken out loud, or written down are
The decisions I make, such as letting go, or fighting;
Telling a truth, or a lie; giving, or taking
I guess having depression doesn’t make me a good or bad person
Despite my disorder, I make ordinary choices.
So will my definition of me be alright,
Even if it means, I’m not always delighted to be here.
But I will be here
Just like you are, instructor.
You might be happy with life---
Yet you have your troubles, just as I have mine.
That’s human.
Perhaps you don’t want to be a part of some sad occasions,
Nor do I often want to be a part of them either.
But we are, and that’s life!
As I learn from my mistakes and hard times,
I guess you learn from yours—
although you’re older—and wiser—
and I have less life experience than you.
Jun 18, 2015
Jun 18, 2015 at 10:59 PM UTC
Right now, a witness I am, of the ever repeating ever progressing world,
Right now, peoples’ different definitions clash in a heavy sticky stew a-broiled; but
Right now, people are looking left, many more looking right,
Right now, the pendulum is walking back - this election is up for a fight.
Right now, the people are like crops waiting for the harvest,
Right now, the farmers are making their “witty” and impulsive agendas they claim are harmless.
Right now, America has no unity - until “POW!” - we are attacked;
Right now, I wish we could fight off our extreme, utmost, and bombarding differences
Right now. To come together. Our woes, sorrows gone.
Right now, achieve safety, happiness for all, and exclusion for none.
May 4, 2015
May 4, 2015 at 8:59 AM UTC
Nothing, but a checklist, is a life
Full of tasks people race to complete.
They look straight ahead, and never turn back;
To them, the future is a new frontier
Waiting to be explored until they’re done, but
Everyday is like an assignment they finish,
They wake up to go to sleep;
Checking off their lists with their retired old pens,
They want to do it over again;
Life will always be a checklist.
May 4, 2015
May 4, 2015 at 8:58 AM UTC
Gathered around the fireless pit,
The birds rejoicing to the songs;
Of easing melodies and mellow winds - no one sings along.
Tranquil, spontaneous and dynamic
is this place - we are pondering like Owls;
I wish I could sing aloud and be free, but I just sit there afoul.
May 4, 2015
May 4, 2015 at 8:57 AM UTC
Poetry
A word majestic in its own,
Poetry is a tool
A path I take to calm down
A direction I go when bland sentences alone can never truly express,
When the words stay trapped in my throat,
Never spoken,
Because I am not able to show my true feelings through spoken words.
I write.
I don’t like to talk.
Because talking leaves room open for disagreement
Talking, airing my thoughts, seems to ******* me.
Leaving me defenseless, a target to aim for.
Poetry is my small way of winning when I can’t win elsewhere,
Poetry is a battle plan,
Poetry is a blueprint
A map to my emotions, my feelings, how I view the world.
Poetry is like a script
When I can’t speak anything from heart,
When I’m sometimes trapped in my mind
And the unspoken, unwritten words catch me in a web,
I write.
I can organize my thoughts in a way that makes sense to me.
My poetry doesn’t have to make sense to others
My poetry doesn’t have to live up to the standards of others
My poetry doesn’t have to meet the status quo
In my poetry
I’m finally free to express
To say something in a society that’s gone at ends to keep me quiet
To finally tear down the walls that have kept me prisoner in the silence
Agree, or shut up, they say.
My poetry doesn’t have to agree
My poetry reflects back to me,
And I’m proud of the sentences made by words strung together
Out of the 26 letters of the alphabet,
Isn’t it amazing?
Get to the point, they say,
But how can I describe what poetry means to me using simple words such as
Happy, sad, and mad?
Give me something to work with here.
You don’t have to like poetry
But I love it.
Mar 25, 2015
Mar 25, 2015 at 3:17 PM UTC
Little drops of his favorite coffee stained his body, residing as freckles.
They show their quiet walks, with massive dogs and shattered mugs.
They show the bright stars that dissapear when the fog creeps up.
They show the times smoke perched against his smooth, spotted fingers.
She aligns his spots like costilations in the twilight sky
As the sun stays longer, and those mornings are chirp, those freckles apear like April rain showers
They show their stolen kisses when she pouts her warm lips like a new born baby
They show each time she's fallen in love with him, lost within his eyes
Quiet morning couch, he grins at her and sips at his coffee
She starts to count
Nov 7, 2014
Nov 7, 2014 at 9:50 AM UTC
The burden of a thousand sheets of paper
all with the design to make me smart.
A thousand sheets of paper, so that when I grow up, I can play the part.
Music
the dancing it induces
and the embarrassment that dancing brings
The Day
let the Sun conform you to society's needs.
it can't be that bad, right?
****** drawings and half-assed notes
reminding me that there is room for improvement
and that I am also really bad at drawing.
Legos
a reminder of simpler times
always stay young.
A snorkel
so that if I am sinking underneath the waves of society
I may yet still be able to breath.
A nut, as a reminder that we all had a starting place
and to remind us that we all had humble beginnings.
that there will be time enough for growing.
A ***** dish
to signify that there are always ways you can help others
and that you should clean up after yourself
Failures
and successes
and those things between them which seem to be neither.
The Night
A time for Stars to shine
and the Moon to show its true self, don't be afraid.
Blank Space
for things yet to be discovered
and things not meant to be discovered.
A failing corpse, mine
A remnant of my youth, not quite gone
but on life support, don’t leave.
Borrowed Pencils
Oops
I should return those.
A poem, the final draft
written with a clouded mind
and an optimistic soul.
All these things
yet room for more
full, yet in truth empty, like my stomach after lunch.
Oct 14, 2014
Oct 14, 2014 at 8:46 PM UTC
We were just kids,learning the life
A 14, your birthday a big surprise
At 15, a bunch of kids seizing the hopes
sitting for the test, learning the ropes
I hope to see you soon to know you're okay
I hope I meant to you as you meant to me
3 years later,we've chosen a different way
We passed in order to be free
We thought we would stick together
But lives change like the weather
Our voice would echoe in the wells of light
If I knew you were all copying just fine
Are you materializing your far-to-reach dreams
'cause I try to,the world upside down how it feels?
Did you notice the leaves changing in the fall?
We'll be grown ups in a while, still miss you all
I hope to see you soon to know you are okay
I know we chased down the end of the rainbow
3 years later,we've chosen a different shade
In order to be us,no one to follow
Aug 7, 2014
Aug 7, 2014 at 4:49 PM UTC