#gradeschool - Hello Poetry

I remember when School was a good word Spoken about through child to parent. School is a word A four letter word that has connotations Of obscenity and frustration. There were the fires. Three in my memory. 5th grade, no one to blame but wires. 7th grade, no one to blame but a random man. 8th grade, no one to blame but students smoking. There were fights. Many fights. One that stands out involved a teacher, a student, A parent and her sister, and a gun. There were elementary days. Those were the times when I was young and naïve. Those were the beginnings of my troubles, but I didn’t realize. I was too young. There were the girls that pulled my hair During my slumber party. There were the children I tried to play with That would not play with me. I never knew why. I found out later… Ah, the 6th grade. When all the schools came together. I met what would be my entire age peer group. It was disastrous. How I was the best, but suffered. I was the school queen, head angel in the school play, And a cheerleader. Yet I was an outcast. There was a girl that told me once I didn’t deserve anything. She told me My peers wanted to wrap a rope Around my neck & sing, “I Believe I Can Fly” by R. Kelly. You can imagine the damage that did To a twelve year old mind. Then there was high school. By that time I was evil to the ignorant. There were over 50 bomb threats in the first two years. That changed with September 11th. Though some speculated I was the one calling the bomb threats. There was the interrogation of my religion. To most, I was a devil worshiping voodoo witch. My ideas of life made me evil. I wasn’t attempting anything but surviving to graduate And live beyond the school walls. To whom it pertains and concerns; Was my suffering entertaining? Was my love to learn so hard to understand? I changed my life after the 6th grade. I tried to be prepared for the ignorance. I tried to live in a way that would bother no one. Yet you found a way to annoy me anyhow. Did you enjoy making me feel the way you did? An outsider. A creature, not a person, deserving of nonsense and suicide? None of you deserved to see me at my best. I kept that for my closest friends. Yet you plagued six years of my life with ******** What say you now? I thought of your demise. I shared it with some. Then it was all over.

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Apr 13, 2020

Apr 13, 2020 at 9:22 AM UTC

Matese

Grade School (1990-2003)

I remember when School was a good word Spoken about through child to parent. School is a word A four letter word that has connotations Of obscenity and frustration. There were the fires. Three in my memory. 5th grade, no one to blame but wires. 7th grade, no one to blame but a random man. 8th grade, no one to blame but students smoking. There were fights. Many fights. One that stands out involved a teacher, a student, A parent and her sister, and a gun. There were elementary days. Those were the times when I was young and naïve. Those were the beginnings of my troubles, but I didn’t realize. I was too young. There were the girls that pulled my hair During my slumber party. There were the children I tried to play with That would not play with me. I never knew why. I found out later… Ah, the 6th grade. When all the schools came together. I met what would be my entire age peer group. It was disastrous. How I was the best, but suffered. I was the school queen, head angel in the school play, And a cheerleader. Yet I was an outcast. There was a girl that told me once I didn’t deserve anything. She told me My peers wanted to wrap a rope Around my neck & sing, “I Believe I Can Fly” by R. Kelly. You can imagine the damage that did To a twelve year old mind. Then there was high school. By that time I was evil to the ignorant. There were over 50 bomb threats in the first two years. That changed with September 11th. Though some speculated I was the one calling the bomb threats. There was the interrogation of my religion. To most, I was a devil worshiping voodoo witch. My ideas of life made me evil. I wasn’t attempting anything but surviving to graduate And live beyond the school walls. To whom it pertains and concerns; Was my suffering entertaining? Was my love to learn so hard to understand? I changed my life after the 6th grade. I tried to be prepared for the ignorance. I tried to live in a way that would bother no one. Yet you found a way to annoy me anyhow. Did you enjoy making me feel the way you did? An outsider. A creature, not a person, deserving of nonsense and suicide? None of you deserved to see me at my best. I kept that for my closest friends. Yet you plagued six years of my life with ******** What say you now? I thought of your demise. I shared it with some. Then it was all over.

62

I remember when my only concern was passing a test Now I wonder if my cousin’s about to face death I’m fifteen, studying till I graduate Too bad I might die for school shooters are common place My cousin’s younger than me But I doubt killers care about that. If they **** another will they let him be? Do I have to wait for that? I don’t care what the 2nd amendment means, I just don’t want my cousin to die before he’s a teen.

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Feb 8, 2019

Feb 8, 2019 at 10:13 AM UTC

alxe-1

School

I remember when my only concern was passing a test Now I wonder if my cousin’s about to face death I’m fifteen, studying till I graduate Too bad I might die for school shooters are common place My cousin’s younger than me But I doubt killers care about that. If they **** another will they let him be? Do I have to wait for that? I don’t care what the 2nd amendment means, I just don’t want my cousin to die before he’s a teen.

10

Page one, Page two same stuff, none new Black White, White Black andthenasounddifferentfromthelowbuzzormaybehumoftheairconditioning Turnhead Turnhead shoesshoesshoes go clopclopclop boinkboinkpass-- Turn ‘Round, Face Front Charm Me, Sit Still Page four, Page five none new, dead drive Eight times Six makes andthenabreezeblowstreesinanalmostmagicalyetinsidesilentway Dazeout Dazeout swayswaysway light glitglitglit shimshmerdrows-- Turn ‘Round, Face Front Charm Me, Sit Still Read on, Till nine dead drive, ley-line What’s Greece, Rome’s what andTHENasoundofGLORIOUSMAGNIFICENTifthatisevenaword Ringring Ringring Screamscreamscream feet bowmbowmbowm cush’seats (Take a deep breath in, then exhale… smooth… steady)

0

Jun 20, 2017

Jun 20, 2017 at 9:26 AM UTC

RavenQuill

Child Deficit Disorder

Page one, Page two same stuff, none new Black White, White Black andthenasounddifferentfromthelowbuzzormaybehumoftheairconditioning Turnhead Turnhead shoesshoesshoes go clopclopclop boinkboinkpass-- Turn ‘Round, Face Front Charm Me, Sit Still Page four, Page five none new, dead drive Eight times Six makes andthenabreezeblowstreesinanalmostmagicalyetinsidesilentway Dazeout Dazeout swayswaysway light glitglitglit shimshmerdrows-- Turn ‘Round, Face Front Charm Me, Sit Still Read on, Till nine dead drive, ley-line What’s Greece, Rome’s what andTHENasoundofGLORIOUSMAGNIFICENTifthatisevenaword Ringring Ringring Screamscreamscream feet bowmbowmbowm cush’seats (Take a deep breath in, then exhale… smooth… steady)

23

At the sound of the bell rush the lunchroom where melting hot cookies make a sweet perfume. Some kids have brown bags names scribbled in pen, while other kids have nobody to pack bags for them. Those are the kids sitting on the lawn. Smoke stuck in their shirts from cigarette smoking moms. They have ***** hands, purple under eyes, holes in their shirts, and shoes untied. They are kids that don’t have names. So easily forgotten and forgotten again. I’m among them, the lonely, lunch-less, wild, torn clothes and tangled hair. “Problem child!” Then there are glass eyed kids ritzy and rotten with button up shirts of egyptian cotton. They garble their candy they snicker and crunch, while us kids on the grass watch their giant mouths munch. I am used to what happens every September. It’s my birthday my parents never remember. but my friends present me a candle to light and I make a wish they hold my hands tight. *I wish that we could all look out for one another. I wish that we could be each others sisters and brothers. I wish that we could not be alone and live together. I wish that we could make our own family that lasts Forever.*

0

Jun 20, 2015

Jun 20, 2015 at 1:41 PM UTC

Z3R0

Nameless

At the sound of the bell rush the lunchroom where melting hot cookies make a sweet perfume. Some kids have brown bags names scribbled in pen, while other kids have nobody to pack bags for them. Those are the kids sitting on the lawn. Smoke stuck in their shirts from cigarette smoking moms. They have ***** hands, purple under eyes, holes in their shirts, and shoes untied. They are kids that don’t have names. So easily forgotten and forgotten again. I’m among them, the lonely, lunch-less, wild, torn clothes and tangled hair. “Problem child!” Then there are glass eyed kids ritzy and rotten with button up shirts of egyptian cotton. They garble their candy they snicker and crunch, while us kids on the grass watch their giant mouths munch. I am used to what happens every September. It’s my birthday my parents never remember. but my friends present me a candle to light and I make a wish they hold my hands tight. *I wish that we could all look out for one another. I wish that we could be each others sisters and brothers. I wish that we could not be alone and live together. I wish that we could make our own family that lasts Forever.*

55