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*** trafficking – the trafficking and debasement of souls; Drug trafficking – the trafficking of substances that debase the body.  Here compared you will find the prevalence, impact, and rehabilitation processes associated with *** and shrug trafficking.  Respective clientele, demographics, and locales that these types of trafficking touch will be revealed in order enlighten you to their world-wide prevalence. The physical, emotional, spiritual, and psychological impact of lifestyles that result from these two types of trafficking will be detailed to etch vividly an image of just how far-reaching the impact of these two activities is. Light will be shed upon the rehab processes that lead to recovery from each.
                 According to UnoDC.org, the United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime, the use of illicit drugs has remained in a stable trend, with approximately the same number of people using illicit drugs each year. This trend has continued for a number of years. Upon examining the world drug report, written by UnoDC.org, production of several drugs exhibit particularly interesting trends. ***** production for example fell and spiked in a somewhat predictable patter from 1990 until 2010. When this data is graphed a reasonable medium appears for all the years, revealing that ***** production has stayed around an average production of roughly 200,000 hectares annually. Likewise, coca cultivation pictures an interesting trend. From 1990 to 2010 coca production appeared to be almost identical each year, and with little to no rise or fall in production, there is a similar trend in its being trafficked.  
Nefarious: Merchant of Souls is a documentary that was released in 2012 by Exodus Cry Its producers and researchers saw firsthand the atrocities of the *** trafficking industry. The film crew interviewed former pimps and prostitutes, spoke to traffickers, the families of the trafficked and to individuals still actively engaged in three sides of the *** trade referring to currently employed pimps and prostitutes as well as those who purchased ***. The researchers and producers interviewed eastern European gang members and took a trip to Amsterdam’s red-light district – home of legal prostitution. They journeyed to Los Angeles and saw the glamorized side of the dark issue of *** trade.
According to Nefarious, the number of humans trafficked for the purpose of providing ****** services is on a shockingly steep rise. In a matter of a few years, *** trafficking rose from the third largest criminal enterprise to the second. It is second only to drug trafficking and is vying for the position as top criminal enterprise in the world. It is encroaching upon that position far more speedily than any authority or decent human being would care to acknowledge.  A survey taken in 2010 by DART (the drug awareness resistance training program) revealed that 21.8 million people aged 12 and older had taken an illicit drug in the previous month. In 2010 it was estimated that between 153 and 300 million people had used an illicit drug at least once in the previous year. These statistics fail to take into account the impact that this usage has on the lives of the families of drug users. Neither do these statistics reveal the extent to which drug users lifestyles are impacted by drugs. However, nearly  every single human trafficked for ****** purposes is completely and utterly enveloped in the lifestyle of prostitution and the violent world of being prostituted. In Nefarious a shocking statistic is revealed. Approximately ten percent of the entire human population of earth has been trafficked. Both human and drug trafficking are prevalent across the globe. Human trafficking occurs in 161 of 192 countries. Illicit drugs are trafficked in every country that has laws that deem substances unlawful. There are little to no race, religion, ethnicity, or age restrictions on who can and is trafficked for use of ***, but drugs are far more limited by age and ethnicity in their use.
Drug trafficking, though similar to *** trafficking in many ways, is in no way as substantial a damaging force to the mind, soul, and spirit as the world of *** trafficking  is in terms of the critical and dangerous force it exhibits in the emotional, physical, psychological, and spiritual  impact it has on young girls. Both drugs and *** trafficking have some influence in all of these respective areas. The primary area in which people are affected by drug use is the physical. Drug users’ health declines, they become physically or psychologically dependent, and they may develop diseases from sharing of needles or lack of inhibitions that lead to *** with an infected individual. Drugs may, in some rare cases, lead to psychoses and mental disorders. They may cause brain damage, which is both physically and mentally damaging. Drugs may even set one’s heart and soul in a place that they are more susceptible to lies or truth. They alter spiritual state for some individuals, but only mildly. However, *** trafficking victims are impacted majorly and in their entirety as a person. In all aspects of the physical, mental, and spiritual, *** trafficking victims are consumed by *** trafficking. In Nefarious it is revealed that In order to “break” *** trafficking victims they are profusely beaten, and are psychologically toyed with to create a twisted trust and dependence on their various handlers. They are repeatedly *****, and are examined like cattle by those who wish to buy women. They are imprisoned in dark rooms and not allowed to leave unless told to do so. They are bedridden and forced to ******* themselves. After being broken in ways described above and sold to a ****, girls are forced every day to meet certain quotas of customers and cash flow. If they do not meet these they are beaten even more. They lay in bed sometimes a week at a time to recover physically enough to usefully return to their “job”.  Through this hellish ordeal, their soul, self-worth and identity are being attacked by circumstances that devalue them. They become like animals.
*** trafficking victims become dependent on their environment for normalcy. This is so true for some individuals that even though they have been rescued from the lifestyle, they return.  This is not because the *** trafficking victims enjoys the lifestyle of prostitution, and it is not because they want to. Instead, it is because they think they can be nothing more than a *******. The *** trafficking victim, in this case, believes that they need to settle into the numb and thoughtless mind state that they develop when broken. Returning to prostitution does not evidence an addiction. In contrast, it is the cry of a soul that is desperately trying to cope. They do this in order to feel as if they can survive.  
The rehab processes for *** and drug trafficking differ greatly in commitment and length, but are similar in that they both require physical and psychological rehabilitation.  Drug rehabilitation programs typically consist of twelve-step programs or something similar. They last a number of months, or occasionally a few years. They allow individuals counsel and encouragement, and they attempt to, by abstinence, exorcise an addicted individual’s addiction. *** trafficking rehabilitation requires the re-creation of an individual. Self-worth must be reconstructed. The spirit must be healed in order to allow for psychological healing. Prostitutes are not addicted to prostitution, but prostitution produces dependence in that the prostituted crave normalcy. This dependence must be killed. Successfully rehabilitating women from this forced lifestyle requires lifelong commitment and endless resources. It requires passionate fanatics, people who will pour their life into changing the lives of others, because only the incurable fanatic can wreak havoc on the tragedy of human trafficking. Any short-term effort to rehabilitate a *** trafficking victim is doomed to failure. The degree to which the brokenness of *** trafficking victims becomes ingrained in them is so extreme that it takes a lifetime to reshape their lives.
While researching *** trafficking in order to accurately produce Nefarious, the researchers and producers of Nefarious became convicted by facts that they collected. The evidence they collected speaks to the fact that *** trafficking does not just attack the body; it attacks the entire being, and in far worse ways than drugs ever could. Varied races and ages are prostituted and / or consume drugs. The impact of both of *** and drug trafficking is severe, but much more so severe in the case of human trafficking. The rehab process for human trafficking is much more in depth and is testament to the horror and degree of psychological, mental, and emotional disfigurement, as well as acclimation to a horrible situation to the point that horror becomes normal – a new definition of addiction. Human trafficking is an atrocity that is far more horrendous and prevalent than imaginable. It is far more destructive than drug trafficking. Drug trafficking is one of the most destructive forces in this generation.  Surely consuming drugs is one of the most horrid things we can do to our bodies, but what about consuming souls? *** trafficking consumes souls, hearts, minds and bodies. It splits, fragments, debases, brutalizes, obliterates, murders, rapes, molests, destroys, and dehumanizes the prostituted.  Drug trafficking attacks the body the soul, and sometimes the mind, but in much milder ways.
kevin morris Dec 2013
“Exams are important don’t let anyone try to convince you otherwise. People will try telling you that they don’t matter in the great scheme of things
“There is more to life than exams Lisa. It isn’t the end of the world if you don’t obtain the grades to get into university” mum said.
This is all *******. I’ve no intention of spending my life flipping burgers in some crummy burger bar. Do you know they have the cheek to call these places restaurants?! Problem is strictly between you and I, you won’t let it go any further will you? Promise, cross your heart and hope to die? Well as you only have my first name and it would be impossible to trace me I’ll let you into a little secret. The truth is that I am not academically gifted. Don’t get me wrong I try. No one tries harder than me. I’ve spent weekends huddled over my books cramming for my exams, “Lisa no mates that’s me” but it goes in one ear and comes out the other. I just can’t remember things, head like a sieve thats me!
Well here I am now in my room at uni. You should have seen my mum’s face when I got the grades. There she stood her mouth gaping open like a stranded fish. Quite comical really. Did I say that all my hard work paid off? Well it wasn’t that difficult for an 18-year-old bomb shell like me to ****** the head master and get my hands on the exam papers prior to the examination. Perhaps academic qualifications aren’t everything after all”.
Santiago Jun 2015
"I Need It"

[Intro:]
Turn it up, let me hear it
Turn it up, let me hear it, Oh DUMB

[Hook:]
I need it up in my life
Every night I get on my knees ask but
Heaven ain't been speaking back (speaking back) I need it up in my life
This goes out to every ghetto every project who know losing's not an option
I need it up in my life (yeah)
All this money cars and clothes
You know I'm balling out control, on you hoes

[Verse 1:]
They attempt to label me inhumane
I believe in God but not your God
Last ***** got outta pocket on the wrong decor got broke off What the **** is up with these A&Rs; "I Need It"

[Intro:]
Turn it up, let me hear it
Turn it up, let me hear it, Oh DUMB

[Hook:]
I need it up in my life
Every night I get on my knees ask but
Heaven ain't been speaking back (speaking back)
I need it up in my life
This goes out to every ghetto every project who know losing's not an option
I need it up in my life (yeah)
All this money cars and clothes
You know I'm balling out control, on you hoes

[Verse 1:]
They attempt to label me inhumane
I believe in God but not your God
Last ***** got outta pocket on the wrong decor got broke off
What the **** is up with these A&Rs;
Criticizing music they can't make
Poking fun at my struggles I don't find **** funny
I live in places that ain't safe
2008 I got my leg blown off
Any given day could get my head blown off
Rest in peace to Tyree Edwards
Bullet in his head got his head blown off
Tried school was a great kid
Academically I excelled in it
Grew up poor got teased a lot
Cause my school clothes had a smell in 'em
Same shirt four weeks straight
On the block grinding, got sales in 'em
Juvenile detention my case worker said I might be headed for a crash course
No father figure role models up in prison all my jump shots hit the back board
Head-on collision, not watching while I'm steering
No air bag, head hit the dash board

[Hook]

[Verse 2:]
Approaching me and wanna shoot the ****
But pretend as if they're here to help Gates
Behind my back in front of label heads
Saying "Kevin just won't cooperate"
Missed flights, showing up late
I live life didn't rap about it
No time to live, my time for them
How the **** I'm gon' rap about it
Speak the truth or rap around it
And in a wrap around I rapped about it
Tragic ending for some family members
In heaven sitting wishing I was with them
Instead I'm stuck in this hell on earth
With pretend friends who think of ways to get me
Couple ****** I loaned money
Said they got me and never get me
Tell a ***** no I'm never guilty
Still ain't got no guilty feeling
Always telling me what I should do different
But can't explain why they ain't winning
My own blood just turned against me
In disbelief I'm like "not true"
Devastated, got caught off guard
When I seen the switch I'm like "not you"Criticizing music they can't make
Poking fun at my struggles I don't find **** funny I live in places that ain't safe
2008 I got my leg blown off
Any given day could get my head blown off
Rest in peace to Tyree Edwards
Bullet in his head got his head blown off
Tried school was a great kid
Academically I excelled in it
Grew up poor got teased a lot
Cause my school clothes had a smell in 'em
Same shirt four weeks straight
On the block grinding, got sales in 'em
Juvenile detention my case worker said I might be headed for a crash course
No father figure role models up in prison all my jump shots hit the back board
Head-on collision, not watching while I'm Steering no air bag, head hit the dash board

[Hook]

[Verse 2:]
Approaching me and wanna shoot the ****
But pretend as if they're here to help Gates
Behind my back in front of label heads
Saying "Kevin just won't cooperate"
Missed flights, showing up late
I live life didn't rap about it
No time to live, my time for them
How the **** I'm gon' rap about it
Speak the truth or rap around it
And in a wrap around I rapped about it
Tragic ending for some family members
In heaven sitting wishing I was with them
Instead I'm stuck in this hell on earth
With pretend friends who think of ways to Get me couple ****** I loaned money
Said they got me and never get me
Tell a ***** no I'm never guilty
Still ain't got no guilty feeling
Always telling me what I should do different
But can't explain why they ain't winning
My own blood just turned against me
In disbelief I'm like "not true"
Devastated, got caught off guard
When I seen the switch I'm like "not you"
Tanvi Bird Dec 2014
Progress

4:26 am. Got out of bed.

Feeling really low again. Envy at my sister's good fortune and new friends. She is getting ahead, she is in a good place- but we are not and I am definitely not. Everything in her life presently makes her happy except me. She never trusted me because I dated G. Now I don't trust her either. I don't want anything from her. I finished the story. She didn't edit. She hasn't offered me anything from her end. "Jotted down some notes" is all she said. She did that in college with all her professors, and got As. It isn't fair. See, she does things whenever she feels like it and IF. And she doesn't trust me? I stopped asking her to do anything. If she wants to she can. I did my part.

I don't know where my life is taking me. I am working ******* little ropes that come at my direction-- but I am not even sure if they are worthwhile endeavors and if they will turn into anything. I just know I have nothing else.

I consider contacting my ex, F. Why him? He's the only one messed up like me. L is married with a beautiful baby and that woman he left me for, G is probably already married by now to that other stunning girl. But F will always be alone.

He doesn't want me. Why should I contact him? I had told myself I won't contact him until I at least got a full time job. He's an Ivy League P.H.D scientist at Penn researching the brain, traveling, making intelligent beautiful friends, and doing triathlons successfully (of course the smart ones are successful at many things). However, he still has trouble finding the "one". He's ******* 37. No one is ever good enough for him. I wasn't good enough for him. *******. He's broken like me. No, he ignored me. I won't contact him. ******* can contact me if he wants to.

I realized I have no friends. None at all. I used to think I had so many friends. Mostly men that just follow me around for a while and then leave me when they realize they aint getting this *****.

There's K, but he's J's ex's friend- so our friendship is limited. There's my sis S, who I meet once every other month, but she doesn't always respond to messages (and I rarely text her anyway). There's Je- she and I meet twice a year and we don't really connect anyway. She has other best friends and I am not really in that circle.

Cas- she is academically successful(valedictorian) and has a job, but frankly she is a bit slow. Can't explain it. Plus she bailed at me about the apartment thing and strangely she doesn't like me to meet her other friends in intimate settings, she just likes meeting people one by one. Like she's met my friends and got some of their numbers, but for some reason has never provided me an opportunity to meet hers. Maybe she feels awkward introducing me since she and I met online? Since she's not philosophical or an intellectual, I don't understand the point of meeting more than once a month if it's just me and her. I like her, but she always seems high without actually being high. I feel like I have to go out of the to meet her, but she doesn't have any energy at all.

Ro- the verbally abusive drunk? Let's face it. It's a mutually beneficial- two lonely people who have no friendship compatibility uplift each other relationship- but he's actually of the the more interesting to talk to people . Then there is Chr who just flirts all the time and fights. I swear his ex wife drilled some holes into his brain. He's just rude. He acts nice, but he's ******* nuts inside. Then there are those occasional people that text you Happy New Year. When I was in a relationship, I was so consumed by it that not having friends didn't matter. I have no friends. I am completely alone. Always have been. In law school, in elementary school, in middle school- I was always the only one who sat alone.

I like sad music. I just listened to the Hollywood version of Les Miserables- one of my favorite all time literary pieces and the beautiful Selena Gomez' new single Heart Wants What it Wants. I love to hear singing melodically, softly, simply of their pain. Every single singer in that musical has a painful story. The innkeepers in their desperation, Javert, of course Fantine, Jean Valjean, and the most relatable Eponine. And the sound of the violin. And the harp.

5:13 am. Let's talk progress.

Today I finally had the trial tutoring session. It was Algebra 2. The girl who is my tutee, she is sweet and extremely hard working. As and Bs in Algebra 2 weren't enough for her. I prepared extensively. My own Algebra 2 teacher was terrible in high school. He flirted with the pretty girls and bragged about himself. I got As for nothing. We spent most of the semesters on the same one or two chapters. I've always wanted to good at everything, to redo and master everything. Maybe this is my chance to become good at everything I **** at.

I am teaching myself before I teach her. I am supposed to be proficient. I had to begin on a surface level pace today. She and her mother both seemed happy. I touched on all her first semester topics. Next week is the second trial session. I will learn more and teach her in depth. If all goes well, she will end up being my client and I will be assigned more tutees. If only I could make a full time job out of this- I totally would. Each session pays well. Of course, the first two sessions I give are complimentary. After that.

This is a gamble. If I don't get enough clients- I will still have to manage the ones I have, invest a lot of time into studying for assignments, and then still make enough money to qualify as full time- then I will be scrambling. I can't imagine possibly getting between 6-8 hours of tutoring every day, since most people get out of work after 5pm and I have to travel around for sessions. I hope it's possible. I would work very hard.

My plan is to ace this Algebra 2 tutee preparation. I have a week to make myself more of an expert.

I have to go to more networking events. Sign up for Asian Film Festival & World Affairs. Meet people. Get connected. Make friends.

Keep reading current events, legal issues, technological advancements, and foreign news.

Re-reading my previously written Step 1- Embodying Positively helped me by reminding me to trudge forward and remain strong and positive, for both my own sake and the sake of the people in the world.

6:02 am.

I am going to do a second 5k this December. My first one ever was last month. Second one in December will be progress. I've got to start practicing again.

I gave up sugar instead of meat for Advent. I felt it was much harder, but more rewarding. Today is my third day of the no sweets diet. I did have sweet iced tea and a pretzel with sweet cream cheese, but I will stop those too. I might allow myself to have just one iced tea a week- moderation is more effective than going cold turkey and messing up. This is a huge accomplishment as I am a sugar addict. I look pretty fit, except a little tummy that goes up and down and only noticed by closest family members and friends.

I need to be fit for my health, to be the best I can be, to be fit, for a future potential job in the FBI or PO.  I only get up once a night to *** now. Some nights I used to *** 6 times a day. Is that an indicator of future diabetes or what? Consuming a lot of sugar can lead to a lot of internal diseases including infertility and cancer. If I can give up sugar for one month, I may try to keep doing it. Wow.

6:27 am. Go to sleep, T. Good night moon. Good night stars. Good night Mercury. Good night everyone.

.........

12/16/2014

Went to an Asian Law Society event last week. Made a couple friends, excited to be a member and get involved. Also met a guy, hope he's Catholic so my parents will accept the relationship if I decide to go out with him. He's emotional, Korean American, and verbal- a Gemini. Interesting but probably just as crazy as me. I am looking forward to getting to know him.

Just finished my weekly career discussion group, this is my second week in attendance. I was about to give up on the group, but John one of the members, who is a runner (and I think out of work firefighter), reached out to help me by emailing my resume around to different people he knows. He's the reason I decided to keep coming until I find a job. We shall see what happens. I have a tendency to jump around to things and not see them to fruition, but I am working on developing strong skills.

Today, I am feeling grateful. I live in a generation in which globalization is both a positive and negative thing. However, today I feel positive despite all the problems. There are so many opportunities, and I just have to figure out to unlock the how.
Sam Moore Jun 2013
this is how you’re gonna
go far, 1.5.
this is how you’re gonna
prove them wrong.

first, drop the number.
though they tell you otherwise,
it is as much a part of you
as the gum you stick under
your desk.
this world wasn’t made
for decimals or the 4.0’s
who couldn’t scrape the
digits off their skin if you
handed them a chainsaw.
you’re not going
where they’re going.

forget everything about
balancing chemical equations
and own the way you drink
your coffee black —
one day it’ll impress the
gold-skinned barista girl
and craft a story that
the periodic table could
only dream of.
purge the formulas from
your system and replace
them with bus routes
and train schedules and how
to become properly lost.
there is no theorem for the
fire escapes you’ll sneak onto
or the celestial alleyways
you’ll stumble across.
know your strengths, because
they’re practically shining
out of your pores.
literary analysis is worthless
compared to the way you
talk to strangers, and the
genius you’ll find shooting up
underneath the overpass
won’t care about how much
russian literature you’ve read.
what he’ll care about
is how you paint him every
sunset he’s ever missed
with the words you send
echoing off the concrete.

let every answer you’ve ever
bubbled in vaporize with your
mid-december sidewalk breath
and don’t wait to see whose
haggard face they blow into
next. you’re not going
where they’re going.

you are not a number.
you are who this world
was made for.
Jaide Lynne Mar 2014
This one’s for the smart kids.

This one is for the honor students, and the straight A students

This is for the kids who stay up half the night studying, and the kids who work their ***** off for their grades

This is for the kids who can define and spell Antidisestablishmentarianism or tell you what DNA stands for (it’s deoxyribonucleic acid by the way)

This is  for the teachers pets, the geeks, and the nerds. And the student who skips parties so she can study for her test.

This is for the kids who can solve complex mathematic equations in their head

This is for the kids who know that you don’t use “I” in a formal essay, and that okay is spelled O-K-A-Y, not O-K.

This is for the kids who can recite pi up to 200 hundred places, and the ones who can solve a rubix cube in 2 minutes flat.

The ones who take two language classes, and the ones who have been saving for college since they were born.

Geniuses of the 21st century, this is for you.

I would give you a gold star and a check plus for what you’ve done, but I’m sure you have gotten plenty of those. So I think I will just tell you something that only we could understand; Superb job at pursuing your academic careers with such ambitious outlooks on the world, and for having such admirable self-motivation.

I know that sometimes it ***** to be academically inclined, but in 5, 10, 20 years you will be working in some law firm or doing something you love and making multiple figures while the kids who blow off their school life will be stuck working for minimum wage at McDonalds or as a waitress for the rest of their lives.

So keep writing essays and doing extra credit because it’s not enough to survive high school, you have to thrive, and reach for the metaphorical stars.
Ann Jan 2013
I guess shoving the sheets under my pillow so precisely didn't help.
I watched you throw the quarter in hopes it was going to sink.
But you, military man, you smirked and let me off.
I think those early nights when the TV was still going and I’d cuddle into the little nest
of your legs as you slept so loudly reminded me.
Your rough hands also reminded me. As when one grabbed my ear
for I decided to be sassy for a moment.
Even though I knew it was hard to say yes, I think you saw the yearning on my face
and I saw the hesitation on yours but I would just whisper dad.
For some reason, buying them didn't matter because you thought those books were necessary.
You already had Shakespeare and the thought of my own haunted my thoughts.
But those rough hands weren't always rough.
And that nest wasn't around as often.
But my books are still napping lightly.



Sometimes I see the old woman’s face staring at me after she told me
that you didn't know what you would do without me.
I didn't stand there very long. You never told me.
So, I didn't believe her.
Maybe it was the seventh or maybe the eighth concert
when I didn't see you out in the audience.
By the fourth year, I forgot you even knew.
I stopped telling people my mom was coming.
Sometimes I would cry for you as you were tenaciously
bent over in the kitchen working on your Korean food.
But you also had rough hands. Ones that meticulously graced a shade of rose on your lips
before work each morning.
Guilt washed over me as a little more than kin and less than kind
surfaced in my thoughts.
The stain in your eyes said you wanted me to do more.
As much as you focused
you didn't know what else could have been done.
I wanted so much not be the progeny of hard hearts.



Humility was a virtue you reminded me so fully I had to practice.
Pride was a fault, turn the other cheek.
He that is proud eats himself up, hoping you hadn't misquoted.
You wanted me to read. But academically speaking, reading was too expensive
and not meant for some.
Why bother?
Mom had turned out fine.
And one day I’ll just have rough hands as well.



I think I watched you go outside four times for a smoke
before you finally finished balancing the check book.



I had recounted over and over in my head if it had been a dream.
Sometimes I have to tell myself it was in order for
it to be that much easier.
I didn't like believing that either of you were considered a pillar.
Because you hadn't been.
Sometimes I forget, but then the books begin to snore
and the pink shade peeks through my makeup bag.
I wasn't one for pleading. It had been years, I’m sure, since
you’d heard it the last time. What is past is prologue, though
he had mentioned it in different context.
When you answered the phone, humility set in and I had
become a child again.
My worn hands were bleeding and I had no one else to lean on.
Shakespeare had been in slumber for far too long.
Brianna Heins Jun 2012
I was in the car with the mama of the girl I babysit,
her brown deep eyes like whittled wood flicked over mine,
and she asked me what I had learned at school today.

I don’t know, but I think it’s this spring fever
that seems to have burned a hole through my head
letting my brain bounce up into the blue abode
but the blame is not solely on the season

Everything I learn that keeps me living,
lives in the trains of thought,
thought by others.

The mothers I meet with the babies who greet the failure
at the first knock on their wobbly knees
compel me to contemplate further,
because with each waking breath
they are reminded that to live, you learn.

So I tell this fragile woman that today my teachers taught,
but the thought of their subjects
subjects negative connotations,

I want real lessons without plans to hand you wisdom, courage, and consideration

I get to learning in the jaw clinching, artery pinching, eyebrow flinching
awe of the way that woman can sing.
I’ve learned the color of my best friends teeth
because some days she smiles.
Learning to heal is hard enough, but to deal with a scab left raw
is something I will always need improvement on.

With, or without school I’m going to learn.

I’m going to learn cold beverage condensation rings,
percolating dreams,
my little sisters shy smiled wings
and societies racist, sexist, sizeist, ageist, ableist, tightly sewn seams.

Im rattling off my bare brisk list of ambitions,  
of pleading for a voluminous scholarshipped tuition,
as I sit next to this woman waiting for a robust reply
I’m learning, that the whittled wood gap in her eyes
are round with sticky sap.
She will teach her daughter academically, never letting her size our common ground;
The skies.

I want her baby to experience,
and as if on cue,
her yawn brings in the tides of the oceans in her eyes,
something she’s learning to cope with,
she’s grasping my soft word’s
“This too, shall pass,
make sure you look to learn with your eyes not your brain,
dear baby girl, choose water over wood,
and when your mama tells you to pack that school bag,
make sure its zipper barely closes over
tightly stuffed open mindedness, and a few colored pencils.”
Yenson Mar 2019
I once asked a classmate at college
after a Sociological lecture on Deviances
why most women get traumatised and upset
about those perverts heavy-breather deviants
because where I come from, you'd laugh at their sickness
call them stupid and waste their money by not hanging up

And if you're crazy enough to be those perverts exhibitionists
who frighten women and young girls by exposing their privates
rather then scream and run, the woman would actually go to the
fool and yank his ****** trousers down and aim a hefty blow
to the offending sight, God help crazy silliness behaviours
where I was raised..

These perverts get their jollies from terrorising and the shock
reactions from their victims, that's their money shot
same with trolls and bullies, they relish knowing they cause upset
or fear or some emotional responses from their victims
Hell, I come from a place where cowardice is recognised for what it is
The rationale is so simple, you've got beef with me, say it to my face
that's what confident real worthy people do, stand by your words
anything else shows you lack courage and you are immediately called out and exposed as a weakling and a coward.
They will tell you, have the ***** and talk to my face'
A cowardly man is the lowest of the low, as simple as that.

But a worthless idiot who hides and then start hissing and cursing
immediately shows cowardice and becomes a joke and a useless example of a man,
So how can the ******* spewed by a pained faceless nonentities impact me, how can a hidden coward without the nerve to face another man, be considered an equal or respected, much less cause me emotional pain or make me doubt myself.
These fools that are given the run around by clever Asians and Africans. Tell me more jokes please!
I actually enjoy toying with fools and when bored take the ****
out of them and bait them to laugh at their ridiculous comebacks.

Do me a favour, how can a semi-illiterate yobs, who turn ghost white and physically trembles at the
the slightest pressure wants to get into my head and disrupt it

These shameless buffoons, who are being academically humiliated
by indian classmates, whose parents come from dirt poor villages and can barely speak english.
Such proven fools and cowards, then decides they can come and terrorize me, like we say where I was raise
" for where"   that means ',   how is that possible

Even an oxford educated person who can't face me earns my fine
contempt, you call yourself Oxbridge, what's respectable with being a coward who can't talk man to man but sneaks around playing a childish game, utter contempt!
Even with their artificially created chaos and difficulties i still
fare better then them
and these pathetic sickos think they are relevant in some way

But I know, they get off the contacts with me, its like I bless them
with recognition
after all there are perverts who pay women to kick them in the *****

I feed the trolls, as my mentioned above, our woman would yank down the pants of a ***** pervert exhibitionist rather than scream and run away, you don't go crying, saying I am emotionally damaged by a mentally ******* fool and pervert dropping his pants, you know immediately this is an idiot not worth two bits, you treat simpletons as simpletons,
what's to be terrorized about by some scallywag dimwitted
cowards with problems and inferiority complexes.
Pray do tell me.....................

If I Was anything the compound fools are alleging would I be here laughing at them or perhaps I am stupid like them, and can't recognize demonstrable spineless cowards and what they do.
He's broken, we've planted seeds, he's anxious, he's crying, some mentalist even says, the coolest stylish man is goofy.

These are the brain dead bullies who pick on the prettiest girls and start calling the ugly, the classic bullies trade make, flip everything because you are all brain dead, smelly ignorant, dumb nobodies
Trash like this want to alter my personalities, want to do my head in

Ohh.....puuluuzee!!
UK-domiciled BME students: applications to Oxford, offers made and students admitted, 2013–2017
BME Students White Students
Applications Offers Admitted Applications Offers Admitted BME proportion of total
UK students admitted11
2017 2,899 519 446 8,908 2,311 2,044 17.9%
2016 2,547 492 411 8,901 2,425 2,178 15.9%
2015 2,332 407 367 8,668 2,391 2,169 14.5%
2014 2,131 395 345 8,634 2,412 2,201 13.6%
2013 2,101 396 360 8,783 2,392 2,234 13.9%
11. Excluding students whose ethnicity status is not declared.
Virginia Mbaluka Mar 2013
We have seen each other for a moment
you are immature, *****, ******* and idiot.
you are a tool
you are awkward and you think the world revolves around you
I have come to notice
that some people play dumb, when they are really dumb
you are unintelligent academically and socially
you need to grow the **** up
you never learn from your mistakes

You believe rumors more than my words
someone started a rumor that I was cheating
and you believed other six people instead of me.
You are so jealous of me
since I have moved on with someone else
better than you will ever be.
And every night I ask myself why I dated you
and I laugh every single day when I hear stories about you
that you are *******, ******* disrespectful and unfriendly to others.
I can only imagine what the next victim will be
and how she will tolerate your bad childish behavior.
I feel sorry for you because you never are over **** about your past
you get annoyed and bothered by little things.
You thought that I ruined everything here
but really, you helped me understand childish men like you
and now I can look for a better man.
Tribes matter more than research,
jobs dished on ethnic network,
as academics are left to die
at the thrones of sadism
and selfish megalomania,
proffessors more illiterate
as reading culture succumbed to death,
to pave way for money culture,
harvested from parallel programmes,
that takes the beautiful
and the academically incompetent,
to the university at  mercy of their wallets,
where the proffessors renew their sinews,
on the french chicken by parralleley style
on the tops of the female parallel students,
as they inspire them with new culture,
of laziness,twiterature and cyborature,
face-booking for unique *** partners,
as books are left to be dust ridden
on the miserable shelves
of ramshackle libraries.
Em or Finn Apr 2015
I wish I could tell you
Tell you all my secrets
So I wouldn't have to face them alone

I have anxiety
Which seems to be an overused term
By people who will never understand the feeling
Of never wanting to wake up
Where reality is too much

I'm asexual
Meaning a lack of ****** attraction
Easy right?
No. Nothing can be that easy to understand
Some of my friends have left me
My family doesn't seem to understand
How I can be asexual and have a girlfriend
My mom wouldn't let me get pride shirts
She allowed me a hair bow with my pride colors
Because it's subtle and maybe no one will notice

I have an eating disorder
Binge-Eating Disorder to be exact
My mom says I'm chubby
My doctor says I'm approaching overweight status
My friends are concerned
For they know how long I can go without food
They know how much I can eat
It's not by choice
I wish I was skinnier
I wish I could control myself
I wish I had control

I talk to myself
Like a whisper
I shut out my surroundings
To listen to the voices in my head
And this can lead to two things
Resolution or Destruction
For my mind has no middle ground
Struggling to resolve a situation
That I've poured over with gasoline
And the voices have lit the match
One false move
And the voices will win

I'm too smart for my own good
But not academically
I use animals to imprint scars upon my skin
I ride my scooter too fast down a hill
So my knee slides across the pavement
Ripping out flesh
A permanent reminder
That 1200 pound horse that stepped on my foot?
Not an accident.
When I sprained both my ankles at the same time?
Not an accident.

I have a gender that I can't identify
I feel mostly feminine
But some days I just want to be able to relax
In baggy sweatpants
With a muscle shirt
And short hair
Yet I know that if I cut my hair
I will regret it the next day
For my gender never seems to stay masculine for long

I had a journal
One that I would write in since 5th grade
It wasn't a diary
But it knew exactly how I felt
And when the bullying became worse
Turning from verbal to emotional
Emotional to physical
My journal suffered the waves of my tears
The fissures of the ripped pages
The erasure shavings left on every page

Until I burned it
Lit it on fire
Erasing any trace of who I am
So who am I you ask?
My secrets lie within this poem
So don't lose it
For this,
This is my last journal
All my major secrets...
RyanMJenkins Apr 2013
Sentimental ******
Academically flunking
Connecting dots and debunking
Seeing past what you see luck in
Black hole my foot's sole is stuck in
Seemingly strategically ducking
Prodding problems and plucking moments,
But losing grip on how to hold it

Encouraging misfit
Brainstorming ******
Monotonous yet intricate
Everyone's just so full of it
Love,
Give it and soak in the showers of despair
The equilibrium storms a new batch of flowers through prayer
The one you always wanted wasn't there
Yet there's always someone with a moment of care to spare

Petty instance through another's glasses could be colossal
A piece of scratch paper to one could be a fossil.
Dare to go against what some deem as impossible
Every individual is a fractal within the kaleidoscope
But even fragments can learn to see the beauty of the whole.

When the music stops sometimes it hurts even more
Melancholy water tides rise and begin to roar
Mental dialogue so active it should be a sport
Fill the report, try not to contort
Sometimes the finish line is reached faster with cohorts
It helps to know when you've gone too far, abort.

A soul alone in a sea full of black
Hard to see past what I lack with this past, there's no going back
Blind to the track, so where am I going?
Hard to invest trust when there's so much not knowing.
Still rowing, but there's a hole in my boat
I question the universe as to why I still stay afloat.

A world of perfection that's full of skewed mirrors
Objects in mind may seem more deviating than they appear
Risks risk regret when not taken due to fear
Let go of misconceptions and substitute a perception that we're meant to be here.

It's nice to believe in something
Whether Allah or the theory of string
Yet holding on too tight can eventually sting
I've been open to the infinite, but what will it bring?

As a patient, if the medicine was patience I may've died already.
The ride's going at lightspeed and is anything but steady.*  
But now I'm unbuckling the seatbelt, to feel every planetary pothole
I will succeed only when I realize my place in the ship,
I am in control.

Parting the waves
See past the grave
There's still love for the depraved
Hell is within us all,
And we all can be saved.

The way will be shown
Remember, There once was a time that you didn't know.
Semi-controversial with the introspective flow,
But this is the method I choose to potentially map out my growth.
This is not a poem.
This is my dedication to a man who touched my soul and gave me the gift of the most valuable knowlege I have ever gained in school.
I do not know how to explain Mr. Fowler in a paragraph and I feel as though any representation of him in just one small paragraph would be inadequate.  However I will do my best to share with you how he impacted my life my ninth grade year.  Ninth grade is a major transition year for everyone.  New people, new school, and still a little bit of that middle school juvenescence.  I was no exception to such awkwardness (as much as I'd like to believe I was) and Mr. Fowler inspired me even on the first day.  He had a passion for biology and even more than that he had a passion for dispensing his knowledge (as well as his own meandering thoughts) to his students.  He expressed his love for his work to us often; mostly just sprinkling it over his enthusiasm for a lab or whatever we were doing that day.  I may not have had an ideally left-brain thought process as you would wish for an honor biology student and yes I did struggle but Mr. Fowler would not have ever left me behind.  However he did not only touch my life academically.  For three weeks at the beginning of my second semester in high school I was absent due to depression, cutting, and bulimia.  My mind was at war with me and I told my parents I needed help.  They checked me into a rehabilitation center for the next three weeks. While out of school North Springs was not easy to get in touch with. In fact they didn't even answer my mothers calls to get my work until I was finishing the program and coming into school the next day.  Due to my school's lack of organization and incompetence I was three weeks behind and kept falling further and further.  I was supposed to be put on a plan by my school to make my recovery less stressful and to help me catch up.  That did not happen either.  My school didn't even count my absences excused despite the hospital notes… Two months passed and I was even more behind and growing more fearful that I would have to repeat second semester until I went to Coach Cushman and Mr. Fowler.  Mr. Fowler offered me support and I will never ever forget how kind he was too me.  He told me we all have health problems but that doesn't mean we can't move forward it just takes a little confidence and work.  He let me come talk to me whenever and gave me passes to stay after class.  He has a beautiful mind and a caring heart, and although it was severely hard for me to reach the level of understanding of the material that I had missed not only in biology but in every other subject I passed.  I cannot express my gratitude towards him for I may not be a tenth grader this year without his help and patience.  My condolences go to his family as well as the family he has with the North Springs staff.  I would also like to say that though Mr. Fowler may not be with us in a physical realm he is still here with us in spirit and one of the many lessons I believe should be taken away from his time with us is that you should love your work.  If you do not live for what you do, you are simply doing the wrong thing.
Trevor Gates Dec 2013
On the surface of those cheap sheets of skin
Our hungry heads next to the radio
Emerson, Lake & Palmer sing of that Lucky Man
While children of the candy corn eat the postman

Space Opera pirates courted by Tiny Dancers of Mars
Spiders, in fact, band mates to a lad named Ziggy
Like us made of Stardust, eternal and galactic—
Though not supported by a studio laugh track

So many images can flash by changing channels
On the Technicolor TV late at night, feral and ******
Passing ships, Hamlet, pigs in clothes, angels killed,
Mouths ******, mothers crowning and holes drilled

Babes crying in the street, while the heavens fall
An unreal reality that flabbergasts wet dreams
Shifting gears for the animals to rule the room
Orwellian motifs ensuring self-righteous doom

Nothing written is appreciated till the lesson is met
Charted, ridiculed, challenged, accepted, analyzed
By those who skimmed through blurred scribbles of lines,
Puking phrases of former failures for the modern times.

Vicious cycles of kids raising parents
Using TV and Internet as the windows to life
Fundamentally naïve, systematically retrieved;
Academically relieved, posthumously achieved.

All meaning was lost in making albums not worth buying
All reason was abandoned when making movies not worth seeing
All adventure was ceased in vain of endless rules and authority
All we have are gadgets, bills and jokes on conformity

My broken clock is still ticking like a mechanical heart
All veins and arteries lead outwards from the center hands
The red lights of traffic leading in and out of the metropolis
Of that homeless blues singer named “something Tatopoulos”

A Japanese couple making a tourist trip to Memphis, Tennessee
Along midnight trains where ghost of Elvis haunts Italian women
Most of the time my references don’t make sense to most
But it keeps things interesting as I’m your eccentric host

Absolute processions of White Queen marches
****-face jackals sporting Mott the Hoople Tees
******* & *******, filling audience chairs
Prophets & moppets, raising fists in the air

Ooze-dripping ******* flower creatures
Topping off mammary gland excretions
Unknown pleasures released by Factory records
Amidst the hysteria caused by deaf leopards  

Pink and orange clouds, reflected in golden hazel eyes
Her smile I can’t forget, just everything about her
You never forget your first love, with eyes like maple
Even in the middle of seeing these strange fables

In this waltz we dance to the beat of three
One, two….

Why couldn’t that love last forever?
Three
children should be seen and not heard Odysseus is not a complainer he keeps quiet he is taught to choke his voice swallow his hurt Mom and Dad are always arguing at one another raising their voices fighting he endures his parent’s criticism follows their orders he is trained to be obedient no negotiating his parents inhabit a surface world of strict protocol everyone laughs but it is a pretend way to dismiss what is actually occurring as long as they say i love you to each other then everything is accorded technically all right no matter how dysfunctional or painful the truth existence is a difficult challenge often overwhelming Mom and Dad push Odysseus in directions he does not want to go instead of surrendering to their wills he acts in response in fact a whole personality is being formed based on his reactions and having nothing to do with who he truly is how he actually feels he feels frightened by the world stressed by all the expectations put upon him in many ways he is way too sensitive crippled by his own sensitivity self-betrayed by his thin-skinned hypersensitivity he stays in his bedroom with the door closed he paints or plays with toy soldiers and watches TV he does not know where Penelope is maybe she is in her bedroom Penelope means everything they share secrets and conspiracies and a common enemy in Mom and Dad Penelope is the only one who recognizes his predicament sense of helplessness anxiety pain she is more nurturing than Mom Penelope and Odysseus have a special connection share a common or similar reference of perception Odysseus desperately needs to believe in his parents maybe Mom and Dad do not understand and assign unfitting advice maybe Mom and Dad do not support him in ways he needs but they are still his parents he values believes looks up to them they rooted that in him even if it is out of fear rather than respect he will always venerate Mom and Dad no matter what Odysseus wants to make his parents proud he loves and needs them Mom is an important person always on the go planning dinners dashing out the door gossiping on the phone buying and returning clothes getting them altered going to the hair salon meeting with the girls for lunch she is a busy lady and has a lot of friends Mom is more concerned about how things look than what is actually going on with her children parenting is a secondary concern to Mom’s hectic agenda of social popularity deep inside Odysseus believes Mom loves him he needs to believe that he paints a red heart on white sheet of paper and writes inside the heart in brown colored pencil MOM when he turns it upside down he reads WOW he reasons whether it is out of obligation or guilt or a mother’s tendency Mom loves him he does not understand but he is grateful secretly Odysseus is hurting bad his feelings are easily upset more and more he experiences a disturbed point of view he tries to ignore it  sometimes his thoughts run to morbid extremes he wonders why he cannot just accept and get along often he wants to be good and get better other times he wants to destroy himself things are chaotic and troubling at home he wishes he or his family would die his teachers complain he is a dreamer with behavioral problems he does not excel academically after eighth grade Mom and Dad are notified their son is not to return to Harper Mom cries to the school Principal in his office begging him to let her son stay the Principal refuses Dad lights a cigarette and exclaims to hell with Harper we’ll find Odys a better school Odysseus tells Mom he is going to be known someday not like celebrities on TV rather recognized for some great achievement Mom believes him and never stops believing in Odysseus
CastorPolydeuces Sep 2016
I grew up weird.
Both fast, and painfully slow.
I understood everything and nothing.
Socially, I started confident and grew awkwardly
first in the sun, then bending away from such bright attentions. Academically I started out running, always ahead,
always the best, the brightest. Straight As and
mismatched clothes, socially lost
yet somehow showing
'great potential'.

Now I've learned a lot.
All blacks and grays, I've finally
mastered at least a portion of my shortcomings
but its too late. Because I've grown up and its shifted again
analytically I see it, can emulate it, but it isn't
familiar or comfortable, it took me
years to catch up and I'm
still behind.

I've grown up weird.
Cathyy Sep 2015
Welcome to a new school year,
Academically you're bound to achieve here...
Welcome to the rest of your life,
Is it weird to think that someday, someone's gonna take your hand and look in your eyes to tell you you're a quirky kind and,
Someone, someday will let you read their journal and you'll see no one is as happy as they seem, love!
Because everybody wants the life they've always dreamed of

You don't have to follow all of the rules,
And I'm sure you'll learn more things out of school..
Oh ain't it strange how, someday someone will want to get to know you, and they'll tell you things that might make them seem uncool,
But when you see beyond those ego's and big hair-do's
You'll see that no one is as confident as they believe love,
Everybody just wants to be the person they've always dreamed of

There's a rumour you might hear about yourself,
The halls of high school may change into highways, to Hell
But if you don't take care of your mental health
Then everybody's gonna think you're a nightmare but don't you dare let hushed words define you
'Cause i'm certain that your fate will gracefully find you,
So prepare yourself for fake friends and heartbreaks and don't forget to count your blessings as well as your mistakes 'cause someone someday will give you too much of their heart
And thats okay because...

Everyone you meet will want to leave their mark.
Hope you guys like this one :)
Alex Muffin Feb 2013
Its been two months,
60 days,
riding this elevator up, down.
60 days each starting with a ride down,
hung over, sore lungs, red eyes,
anxious about my health, studies,
and when the amphetamines will kick.
60 days ending with the ride back up,
heavy eyed, mostly drunk,
anxious about whether or not I've impressed that girl,
or whether or not I give a ****.

Failing, academically, morally,
I skip class, take advantage of people,
I **** my friends, **** strangers,
**** my sheets at night when I dream about the girl I've never met,
or maybe met but never considered.

I'm full of it, flexing my scrawny arms when I'm alone in that elevator.
I can't tell what I am to people, how I compare.
What I do know is I'm sick, lack empathy, *****,
immature, greedy, drunk, spoiled, distractable.
But people like me, even grow fond of me.
The only thing I'm doing right is hiding,
myself within myself.
pat Feb 2014
Jim socks and honestly
I bet
a bigger better bag
of eat
and oh maybe
I'll say excuse me
tonight
a la mode
and or load in the shorts
so the courts find me guilty
I'm filthy.
I'm famous for ****.
**** me off
**** my hands
send me off
like a band of behemoths.
A squeamish man is-not-a-man
or a mammal
malice towards a camel
lake ocean
and babbling brook
Anne Frank handled it well
Academically
Flu epidemic. Lee
Harvey Oswald. Waldo
Donde estas?
Where's your dad?
Is he happy?
For you I'll adaptively choose to be tactical
Lisa is moaning
for you.
Robert Zanfad Feb 2010
I've read far too much psychiatry -
Now knowing from ear to there
Many mysterious processes
That make one's mind blink -
Acute chemical reactions,
Therapeutic medications...
But academic texts
In their dryness
Seem to lose
Life's realness,
Why we think
As we do.
That *****
That comes loose
To throw one off course
Could not be all chemistry.
So academically written are words
To those authors who don't live them.
I'd rather imagine some error of cooking -
That tarragon substituted for basil
Or marjoram instead of sage
Gave that strange taste
To the sauce of my life
That salt could not
Cover over.
A wife
Imbalanced
Wasn't my choice
As young lovers married.
Yet in time I heard the voice
Mimicking demons, evil in cycles.
Excused and forgiven as nature's vice
At first  - then when wrath affected children...
A man can only accept his own scars
As the consequences of his living,
Entered into wide-eyed, willing.
By knife's nicks I've survived,
Callused skin is tougher.
But to save the tender
I think I'll give up
Cooking.

Insanity isn't contagious
As go diseases,
But as butter
It does
Spread
copyright 2010 Robert Zanfad
Skye Applebome Jun 2014
Le Chatlier's principle only goes so far-
My system will not return to equilibrium.
There is too much stress-socially, academically.
Emotionally.

*What is one to do?
Julia Locy Aug 2018
I can't remember the last time that I was actually happy. Not the fleeting happiness of a funny joke or a cute animal, but deeply and utterly satisfied with my life.

Was it the warm nights in Spain that I spent dancing through the streets. Smile never far from my lips and the smell of ***** and freedom drifting through the air? Was it the rush of running through my new found apartment with the hopes and promises of being better academically and socially? Was it the night of Halloween when we first cuddled up by the campfire tipsy and falling in love? You telling me I deserved better than second place and promises of forever sweet treatment.

My head now swarms with fear and uncertainty. What is happiness. Where do I find it? Who am I and why do I feel like I am empty and out of control? These loud thoughts swirling in my head taking over control. Pressure building to extreme levels where that little voice tells me that the world is better off without me screams into my sad and scared void. Emptiness. When did you become so close to me.

As I lay in bed next to the man I thought I was going to spend my whole life with I don't even know where I stand. The fear of screaming and agitation at my actions or malfunctioning technology. The fear of an argument following closely behind any statement or conversation. Second place. Fun activities alone. Possible physical altercation. Where do I stand? I have lost control. I have lost myself... but I still have no idea where I stand.
Jay May 2013
I wonder if this is how animals feel, at the zoo or in the circus
Caged
Forced to watch everyone stare at them from the outside,
While they rot behind bars, not sure of what they've done wrong.
Forced to be tested on skills they were forced to develop.
Because that's what society wants.
Trying so hard to not be wrong,
Because if an animal ***** up, they get put down.
So they jump through the hoops that the circus provides.
Balancing on *****
Willing to put their lives in jeopardy to survive,
But wait,
That doesn't seem quite right.
Imagine risking your LIFE to SURVIVE.
Imagine developing diseases like depression and anxiety,
It's a free country, but we're under the imprisonment of money.
So they make you sit in a cage made of brick walls,
And laugh as you struggle to survive through it all.
They have you jumping through metaphorical hoops so you can see who's the best.
Receiving treats and praise if you're academically correct,
Staying on top of things to make your parents proud,
Stressing over the fact that you can't **** up or you'll get put down.
Balancing on a ball filled with school, sports and life at home
Until it pops and they push you into the wild all alone.
So I guess you could say we're like animals in a zoo or the circus.
Trying to get 100% on our standardized tests so that we can feel perfect.
But at the end of the day all your gonna feel is worthless,
Because you're being tested on skills you were forced to develop,
And sooner or later you're gonna get fed up
You're gonna jump on your ball and that ball is gonna pop.
It's bound to happen on your fight to the top
And it's inevitable, there's no way to make it stop.
So when you start to feel worthless
'Cause your test scores aren't perfect
Just remember we're animals being watched in a zoo or a circus,
So you don't need to follow society, blindly
Throughout your life,
Or you'll be caged up like me
Doing tricks to survive.
WickedHope Dec 2014
Freshman year:
honor roll, top 15%, on the right track (academically)

Senior year:
failing 3/8 classes, thrown out of the honor society, crying
I'm not going to get into college, am I?
Batya Feb 2013
They've just finished telling me
About how they think that a person
Should only be considered an immigrant
(Academically) for her first five years instead
Of the ten that I said I wish were twenty, and they
Manipulate my words the time that I made the mistake
Of telling them that I feel like my personality belongs, and
I turn around and blink and swallow hard and the teacher hands
Out our new textbooks and through my blurry eyes I write my name
Inside the cover and I look down and I rush out of the room to write this when
I realize that I've written my full, god- given name beautifully, neatly-- in English.
Yenson Jun 2019
Unstable rabble
ill in mind, body and soul
unfulfilled and desperately unhappy
fearful always, insecure, lacking and inadequate
skeletons in cupboards, shaming secrets hidden aplenty
false, fake, white-washed and all semblance soulless nonentities
vacuous sad pathetic weak and academically challenged majority
ignorant belligerent bellicose cowards, drunkards n mob shysters

rise, rise. rise
jump, jump. jump
do the twist n put the boot in

stand up and bellow
you can't loose your chains
your self loathing is too great
your shame and pains hurt all the time
you are reminded of your insignificance always
your helplessness and your weaknesses shames you
you always have to fake it, scrape, beg, borrow and steal
the aggrieved spectators as talents, wealth and the ritzy drive past

rise, rise, rise
jump, jump, jump
do the locomotion and spread the ****

scream and shout
hurl slander and lies
fight like cowards and bully
get badass and wicked and mean
get ****** angry and get ****** even
leave your bacon butties and fry the greedy pigs
forget your chips and come chip the brains of the tyrants hogs
put down those pints and lets keep this momentum of hate alive so

rise, rise, rise
jump, jump, jump
do the stoning and lets move like Jagger
SATIRE: For the many, not the few, If you dare LAUGH at any single word or prose in the inspirational poem you are a Class-traitor and you would be reported to the Stasi Apparatchiks who will make your life a living hell and you will wish you are dead, it goes without saying that you will also never **** again in your life for the Stasis will make sure that you will never have a partner ever again. You have been warned, this is a serious matter and solidarity is our salvation. Now, go do your duty and find a rich person to burgle, taunt, torment, harass and hate with all your cowardly energy, you loonies, pinkos, sados, weirdos, stinkos commies. Remember, a single smile from you and its hell for you all, go ask that Purple rain **** about it.
David Nov 2015
We were never at a crossroads,
because our paths never truly crossed.
Yet observing your life,
your time in college,
your new friends and acquaintances
all from afar,
leaves me feeling cheated.

It was upon seeing you in the library,
books all about you, hard at work,
that I fell in love.
You were beautiful, well-dressed and groomed,
you were highly intelligent, at the very least academically,
you excelled artistically, producing magnificent creations of paint and graphite,
all of which is still true to this day.
I attempted to get closer,
to befriend you and, of course, pursue more romantic relations.
You never were interested.

Do not get me wrong,
I have moved on, I live my life happily.
From time to time, however, I still wonder on what might have been.
EJ Lee Jan 2019
One panic attack is an eye opener
Having two mental break downs
Within two days
Is another
It’s crippling
Your whole life
Feels as though it’s crashing down
Questioning your intelligence
Second guessing yourself
Feeling so lost
Unable to understand
What others seem to get
So easily
You are out of control
Of your emotions
Unable to compose
Yourself  
That feeling of being nocked down
Once more
As you climbed so high
It’s humbling
And terrifying
Something needs to change within
Not sure if it is my
Pride or ego
But I need help
I need to not be afraid
To ask for help
For I require so much
Academically and emotionally
I wonder how many individuals
Feel this way
How long it takes to get back
On feet to where I feel
Like myself once more
1/21/19
Your world's full of pressure
coming from where you come from-
chasing what you like
and what your parents failed.
What bullies you says you're talented academically
if not academically,it has to be academically.
A heart 'crafted' black
by those who celebrate their neighbors accident
for having a car before them.
Bitterness in you were from all
angles gallons curstising you sour
Gallons poured in times of need
Attempting to amputate your walk to the grave
Black child! you battle against
cowards who get you napping
cowards whose barefooted visits
to the shrine resent what they know-
YOUR POWER!
Black man's problems
Mateuš Conrad Sep 2016
people need reminders,
like my absenteeism using a mobile
phone: i just think of able people
donning crutches with those devices...
me? i'm mobile... they? they're static
parishioners: everyone seems to
be donning a crucifix or an aged
bald and fat Buddha idol of the living room:
one stone,
two pigeons.
                       people do need reminders
though... oh sure, i'll get far,
i'll wake the masses alright,
i'll be up bright and early and worthy
of a radio broadcast... it will happen:
i'm just not that ready to feed people with:
what ******* ***** came next,
and how i celebrated after...
or didn't.                 grow intelligent enough
to people hate you, literally: it's bile
comment after bile comment after more bile...
i never got that... i worked my ***-off
for the grades, but there's a lunchbox feed
of people saying: and i wish
i never worked that academically hard
either... sure thing: there, ain't, any, awards...
you get rewards from ******* other people
over... and that's how you make it...
no other way... and forget about staging a truce.
there's the Blockbusters': Egyptians love
Norse Myth... and there's the Syrian Candlewicks -
both are Bach worthy ***** compositions needing
production twinklings... boom char boom...
                and again: Sinjit's your uncle.
class.
                   slang years behind? the aversion
in using the word cool...
                              class... meaning stylish...
meaning anything more than that bodybuilding ****
friend of yours said about flexing the blunt (bicep):
                              or as the ***** granny Grey
lisped:         pucker up you godforsaken heathens!
                   salto the word Haydn!
  minus the trolley and extra cabbage packed
adding up the arithmetic: mind the ******* goldfish!
                           no one tries to be funny...
it never works when trying...
                                        i'm not funny...
i wasn't born to be... funny... but it's funny when
   a granny on a scooter replaces an earl in a cocktail
shawl... pretty: but it's merely a Kashmiri jumper
you shlag... turban suits you, sir...
                           and you too, sir...
              i say, smocking and barricades...
i say, kind sir: earthenware and silk for what
i intended to say in the first place: a silken bathrobe
to leisure in: entertaining at tea... time...
           oh indeed sir... 5 p.m. at the latest.
god i'd love to live on the Faroe Isles
               and butcher Orca swarms typified by
akin relation to Mongols.      
                                dreary cultural envisioning
readied to upkeep a status quo...
                                               mind, the, guillotine:
more than a toe might come off your
  "precious" body, as precious as receiving a
birthday card.
Anais Vionet Feb 9
We’re (my roommates and I) at a specific time of youth - a time I’ll call “close.” We aren’t fully adults but we’re close, we’re not completely out and independent, but we’re close. And once again, we’ve got choices to make.

I read this paragraph to the room.
Lisa gasped and exclaimed “Not choices?!”
“More choices?” Anna groaned.
“I’ll have a bacon-cheeseburger with large-fries,” Sophy said, adding, “and a blueberry-triple-malt shake.”
“Freedom is choices,” Leong, our favorite communist, ungrammatically observed.

We’re in the second half of our junior year - which is still hard to believe. We’ll be seniors soon, and seniors have one foot out the door - they’re ‘over the ****’ academically - nothing will be thrown at them that they can’t casually handle, so they sleep-in or trek off to job interviews half the time or in my case, go med-school hunting.

I’ve written about our lives - the stresses, healthy doses of narrative-suffused teen drama, the ascetic beauties and the enchantments of freedom - trying to capture a few real-life moments at irregular intervals, in small ellipses, to tack them, like butterflies on cork.

What’s been hard to capture are the subtler shifts in taste and mood as we’ve aged. I’ve had to purposefully slow down, doppler shift from frantic student to observant writer, to even try and grasp the constantly evolving, small variations. Like Anna’s cainogenetic expressiveness, Leong's imponderable politics, Sophy’s evolving, coquettish bar-side poses and the growing assertiveness of Lisa’s gaze.

As we mentally prepare for our real lives, there are diffuse metamorphic changes afoot. What will we leave behind and what will we keep in order to “grow up?” I don’t mean changes in haircuts, clothes and make-up - although I’m sure I’ll MCU-those-out - I mean the psychological changes.

Throughout our college careers, the objects we’ve surrounded ourselves with, the settings we’ve chosen to inhabit, the faces we’ve shown the world, and even our intimate notions of ourselves have changed.

And It’s still only junior year, I can’t wait to see what comes next.
slang…
*cainogenetic: adaptations in development that aren’t found in evolutionary ancestors
MCU-out = the nauseating oversaturation of something, like the Marvel-movie-verse.

Adults don’t always grasp (remember?) the thousands of small but concrete choices governing the life of, say, a middle-school adolescent. The zig-zags that appear puzzling or random from afar, stem from questions like, ‘What does my belt say about my sexuality or my relationship to oppressed people in poverty?”
RisingUp Oct 2020
I don't know who I am.

This may sound strange,
but it's how I feel
many 20 somethings
know this feeling is real

"This is normal"
"You're not alone"
But this lack of identity
Makes me feel thrown

For years I was the "smart one"
Strove for the highest grades
Lost that identity for a bit
Momentarily lived in the shade

I reclaimed that feeling in first year
Academically, feeling strong
But wanting to excel was challenging
Anxiety and depression tagged along

I excelled for four years to leave options
Working myself to the bone
Hoping my hard work would mean something
My path forward would be shown

But now I'm left with burn out.

It leaves me at a crossroads
Not sure which path to take
Not confident in myself
Or the changes I hope to make

Building a live worth living
Is more challenging than you make think
When you're used to craving excellence
Anything less feels like an empty link

I have to find a way forward
To make sense of all that is
Accept that life isn't always fun
But know that doesn't mean my life is done.

I want to be an optimist
In a world that's sad and cruel
Find where I truly belong
Hope will be my tool.
Sarah B Jan 2013
I **** at writing Poetry.
I **** at being me.
I **** at everything I do.
I’m a disaster…

I can’t walk without falling.
I can’t drink without spilling.
I can’t talk without stuttering.
I’m a freak…

I don’t do well academically.
I don’t do well physically.
I don’t do well emotionally.
I’m a failure…
Not to mention I’m mean,
And also moody,
And a wee bit mental too.
I’m weird.

Nobody remembers me.
Nowhere I go is ever home.
Nothing I do is ever good.
Yes, I’m a socio path…

But I have a good heart,
And I’m also a good listener,
and I’m also not a bragger.
So I’ll shut up now.
Gwen Johnson Jul 2013
They show us what it means
To be perfect
How we need to look
Beautiful
That's what we need to be
Perfect
Smile
Hair
Face
Clothes
Weight
They teach us
Jealousy
Not to be yourself
Picture perfect

They show us what it means
To be perfect
What we need to achieve
Smart
That's what we need to be
Perfect
Scores
Grades
Memory
Student
Ideas
They teach us
To exceed every expectation
To set high expectations
Academically perfect

They show us what it means
To be perfect
What we need to build
Creative
That's what we need to be
Perfect
Ideas
Words
Art
Thought
Product
They teach us
To be spot on
We can't make mistakes
Imaginatively perfect

They show us what it means
To be perfect
When sadly
They don't even know
You're perfect as you
Julie Butler Jan 2016
my gasps they
actively react to you
academically,
accidentally I think
facing the tall-bed-duet
dragging your
thigh towards
my cheek
was beautiful up
side down & it
took me
she,
took me
we're,
falling asleep
In your ’97 Mercury, that grumbles
like an arthritic old mare
at every cautious nudge
of her gas pedal, evoking the utterance
of “easy now, girl” at least twice a commute,
we’ll journey haphazardly
to wherever I-675 spits us back out.

With whiny indie music
harping cumbersome lyrics
aided by passion-silly guitar solos
blaring on ****** speakers, we’ll savor
the names of every exit
we pass by in defiance; accelerating through
sensible opportunities
to get gas somewhere and
turn back to obligation. Midwestern gypsies,
urban nomads, academically-disoriented
college students—whatever we are, reveling
in the aimless misadventures
of going ******* nowhere.

They raised us to pursue infinity,
we grew to embrace the absurd;
we press our handprints in the sand
and thank the gentle tide
for letting her shoreline’s scars
fade painlessly.
Kenya83 Nov 2017
I guess I’d say I’m lucky, it all comes down to luck,
Historically, I’m born to a time of not giving a ****

Geographically I’m free, in a nation filled with greed
But in the greater scheme of things,
I’ve never known hunger or planted a seed

Racially I’m privileged, or so that’s what they say,
Though my gripe with my lack of exotic is a vain and ignorant betray
I’ve never endured or felt insecure by the lack of melanin that came my way

Despite the socialistic statistics, I see realistic logistic
Surviving ballistics, Linguistically twisted,
Academically average, emotionally insecure, certainly unsure
What emotions are for

Yes my parents loved me and sure they also ******* up
However, I still had to make my choices
Of getting high in a garage block, or getting up

— The End —