"aced" poems
Sometimes we wish
We were Americans
We would have aced the Spelling B's
Been athletes on scholarships
Or won beauty pageants
Our institutions would compete
And we would win prizes
For accomplishments
If we were Americans
We would thrive with competition
We would live the American Dream
And be rich and famous
I just know it
Sometimes we just wish
Our Scandinavian system favoured people with our talents
Our lack of compromise
More
Jul 9, 2014
Jul 9, 2014 at 7:31 AM UTC
We've only got a week left to last you know,
Thank every deity that ever was or ever will be.
I've aced the class now I've gotta go!
Had a wake for Wellness, and Spanish is buried -Now a funeral for Chemistry!
Banish those 'noble' gases and all that higher math.
What's a word smith need with polarity, molarity, or stoichiometry?
Well at least now I can tell an asymptote from a hole in the graph.
The freshies have it next year, but us -We cheer and sing, "BETTER YOU THAN ME!"
May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 1:21 PM UTC
the hairdresser used the wrong dye
your boyfriend dumped you for a guy
all you have left is shattered dreams
camera flash blinds you with its beams
missionaries bring word of an impending doom
your dog snuck in and broke your fave perfume
trying to grow your hair but you have split ends
the guy you've been eyeing wants to be just friends
your favorite jeans ripped and you don't have spares
you would ask for a friend's but nobody cares
you're late to work and you don't know why
you got scouted to model but you were suddenly too shy
you failed the pop quiz that everybody aced
you got mistaken for a celebrity and brutally chased
you dropped your wallet jogging around
you found it empty a week later in the lost and found
you forgot not to and picked a scab
your favorite uncle's stuck in rehab
your grandmother mistook you for her son
in reality you're female, and nowhere near fifty-one
you're a penny short but the cashier won't budge
your mother is still holding that 10-year grudge
what can you do, what can you say?
when all you have is first world problems, today.
Nov 17, 2013
Nov 17, 2013 at 2:50 PM UTC
She wore her strength on her sleeves
in the form of intricate tattoos,
to her all that matters is what she believes
and she'll conquer the world in her black shoes.
Her hair was dark, reaching her waist
and her eyes were the best of jade,
her examinations she all aced
her mind being as sharp as a blade.
Named after a ruthless killer
but with a heart made of gold,
she doesn't mind a thriller
her story will be told.
In a world full of magic
and light and darkness,
her story ends in tragic
but she was never heartless.
Jul 17, 2017
Jul 17, 2017 at 7:29 AM UTC
Checks his cards with certainty
Poker face that shows no sign
Of the best cards he has and holds
Structured so, flawless design
---------------------------
*He lays the King of Spades
The story goes he digs your grave
A brutal, merciless, powerful lord
On par with Satans' desire to destroy*
--------------------------
Spreads his hand, checks again
The end is nigh for you, my friend
He smiles a little, it fits the moment
When he lays the dreaded Joker
----------------------------
*Word has it, the Joker, a clown
Is the one who underneath his smile, a frown
He jests and contests with others simply for smiles
No currency has he, amusement his one bright fire*
--------------------
The final card, Uno, one claims
The one thing society brutally maims
For each is unique, a vital part
When he plays the Ace of Hearts
-------------------------
"Thank you for playing me
Not many accept my challenge, you see
They call me Silence, the Blank Card
And my skill with words vastly admired"
I just don't talk so much
Jul 4, 2016
Jul 4, 2016 at 5:24 AM UTC
often misunderstood
because I'm running.
no more keeping up
with myself.
fevered flowers:
the scent is toxic,
moist petals are
slowly drying as you stare.
love confessions, it's
intelligent not to touch
those thoughts.
my skin screams,
resistance is useless when
a mind is set.
let's enjoy listening to
the wind dancing with water.
abrasive weather
whichever way you stretch.
calm bleeding
only the eyes are shocked.
ultimatums of
healthy habits
only make the sickness creep
harder to keep
back from the surface.
sharp neglect
there's a lot of goodness here.
cornered commitment
maybe all these tricks aren't magic.
ill tricks in disguise
all encountered is an illusion.
take time
see what pleases and let all else fade
or pass through the transparent torture
that is easily forgotten.
sweet spins
strong arms encase a shattered weakness.
strong sense
for breaking shells built based on fear.
some sanity
in telling the truth boils into insanity.
sane souls
just want crushing cement for breakfast.
smashed spine
twisted into fine petals which cracked.
slowly sweetly
the wind poured down upon the fire.
sweat soured
each hand that reached for another.
screaming search
eye to eye to soul to heart to ache to no.
frightened frustrations
confusion will keep the puppets hanging in waiting.
suspended in space, it's not a race.
a test in patience which will soon be aced.
Jun 20, 2013
Jun 20, 2013 at 10:42 AM UTC
i aced my history classes
they teach you about the war in vietnam
they teach you about the revolutionary war
they teach you about the battle of the bulge
the civil war
but what
of the wars you will face within yourself?
those
are seldom talked about
people blow their own minds
up
with destructive behaviors and terrible choices
one soldier fighting both sides
the post-traumatic stress of their own human experience
hmmm?
what of those people.
what of me.
Jan 24, 2013
Jan 24, 2013 at 1:16 AM UTC
Here's to you
and the days when it feels as though
the whole world is against you.
Here's to the times when they told you, you couldn't do it,
and you proved them wrong.
Here's to the nights where you collapsed and cried,
because you needed an emotional release.
Here's to that test you pulled an all-nighter for, and aced
To the days you would do anything to not go to school, but took all of your existing energy and did anyway.
Here's to all of those things, because they are what make you as
strong as you are now
Don't give up
Ever
Mar 17, 2014
Mar 17, 2014 at 12:29 AM UTC
Today feathers slipped from my mouth
Galaxies of bruises spread across my skin
And I became content with my body for a fleeting moment
But I can't tell you that.
Today someone cut my skin with scissor-sharp words
I felt the pressure of everything crushing me
And I aced a science test.
But I can't tell you that.
Today I realized that I feel like the only person in my universe
I missed the soft touch of your skin
And I felt sorry for myself
But I can't tell you that.
Today I tasted molten gold
Silver cascaded from the sky, similar to stars
And I wanted to kiss you
But I can't tell you that.
Today my fingers tapped the censored keys
I had an empty conversation with you
And I worried about our survival
But I can't tell you that.
Mar 22, 2015
Mar 22, 2015 at 7:15 PM UTC
We got drunk
In the moonlight
On a veranda
We weren't able
To pronounce
Some crops of
Cops
Spewed out onto a
Garbage caked
Street
We laughed and
Shouted and
Squealed as they
Peeled and skidded
On their
Plastic heeled
Boots
Were we
Mad back than,
Or just
Happy?
We were drunk
On the veranda
At dawn and at
Midnight
We were alive in
Time where
Time was drunk
And didn't want
To BE time
Humanity
Collapsing and
Taking over
The world
For GOOD
This time
Evil was a
Pip squeak that
Got caught cheating
On their
Science exam
While we
Aced it
Hung over
From the
Veranda
Night embraced us
as
The morning
Clothed us
On that veranda
We were
Quite
Taken
Care of
Oct 31, 2011
Oct 31, 2011 at 6:18 PM UTC
Today,
I woke with confidence.
I excelled and did not disappoint.
I got a bit tired.
I became so happy I felt like I could die,
I was love-struck,
I was nostalgic,
I gained new inspiration,
I made a bad mistake,
I aced the test
but failed the homework,
I had a severe panic-attack.
I cried in utter self loathing,
I was comforted.
I was sheltered.
I was loved.
I was picked up
and put back together
by strangers.
I misjudged
I gained new confidence
and lost it.
Today was the best day I've ever had.
Today was the worst day I've ever had.
Today, was perfect.
Nov 14, 2013
Nov 14, 2013 at 7:24 PM UTC
On behalf all of us who make bad decisions,
and worse excuses for them
I’d like to say that I’m sorry
I heard about how hard you worked on that science fair project
and how the teacher didn’t believe you
Because a week ago, someone like me used the same excuse
to get out of turning an assignment in on time.
And I’d like to say I’m sorry, for all the exams you studied for days to get a C on
and all the ones we aced without trying.
I promise, it wasn’t our fault, we’re just lucky guessers
I guess we could be little Irish
Like four leaf clovers are running though our bloodstreams.
On behalf of all of us who cried wolf,
because we fell asleep
and lost track of a few sheep.
I’d like to say that I’m sorry
that the boss didn’t accept the puncture wounds as proof
because we went too far one too many times for anyone to be trusted anymore.
For always taking the easy way out.
For every little white lie we told, that snowballed into an avalanche
and took you with it as it raced downhill.
On behalf of all of us whose dog did not, in fact, eat our homework
to you, the kid with a genuine excuse.
I would have liked to say I’m sorry.
I even had this whole apology written out
-It was cool, and rather poetic, if you ask me-
But there was this freak accident this morning
involving traveling circus, a ******** and a ham sandwich
-Trust me, you don’t want to know the details-
Okay, you got me
I guess some old habits die hard.
Dec 20, 2009
Dec 20, 2009 at 5:18 AM UTC
The passenger seat of someone else's car
is a place that I can get lost in.
The seat that was off limits
until I was 10 years old,
now my introspective throne.
The world passes through my window like
memories I've long since forgotten.
A blur of aced tests and overachieving I want
to soak my brain in.
The wasted time in long lines,
my first standing ovation,
emotions that blend
with the Little Trees Lavender.
All the pain of the world can't penetrate
my secluded steel fortress,
so I sink deeper into the cushion.
Jun 14, 2023
Jun 14, 2023 at 3:59 PM UTC
Close these weary of mine,
Play the Bad Boy's Having a Party,
I can indulge in delights so fine
Of Friday in Civics that are sweet.
Oh yeah!
Mrs. Chaney and that radio of hers,
Both tuned to the oldies Hot 105;
Luther starts to plays as it recurs,
And she smiles, she dances, sings live.
Well, all right now!
What joy to witness her really bask
Is such a relief from the workweek;
Her daily struggle execrated at last,
As she swings, dwelling in melody.
Oh yeah!
We would just sit, listen, and learn,
Finish the week test quickly to survey;
Our weekly burdens were burned,
Ash like hers burned away in a way.
Well, all right!
I hed aced her class with all the lesson,
Yet words may never suffice gratitude;
That strong Black woman was a blessing,
First to see my strong sense of negritude.
Oh yeah!
Thank you, Mrs. Chaney
Mar 4, 2014
Mar 4, 2014 at 10:56 AM UTC
Boastful cat
Saturn rain
Night is dull
Dull blades still slay
City craves rustic sway
And these white houses
Are the grave
(Thunder brings a night of lust
Christmas lights are empty trust)
Should've been a raindog time
But the clouds had fate for eyes
Someone shot a feverish arrow
And laughed as I went blind
*Pink room
Red womb
Blackened heart
***** spoon*
Opened my eyes -- The mirror fooled and did tricks on me -- Pelicans and temporary ghosts -- Like a pleasant phantom come to visit -- Until it reared its ugly head and showed its face -- It took all my grace -- Swan lake -- Sky high -- Pace and word -- Makes clear as it distorts -- No war and peace -- Foes and cohorts -- Just everything you've adored and everything they'll abhor -- And nothing more -- Should have put thoughts on paper -- Couldn't hold a pen -- Three days of geometric chaos -- And a lifetime of no symmetry -- Should have never reentered the cave -- Shadows on the walls -- Filled with tattooed luck -- Now I'm Cecilia in a bathtub -- Waiting for the inevitable -- With demons on my shoulders -- Incubi atop me -- Genies above me -- Elves behind me -- Dirt below me -- And cult claws on my walls -- Stuck in symbol-land with constant mock cymbals -- TV laugh-track plays every step I take -- Sterile and over-sensitive -- Can't ever get numb -- Screaming babies and French sirens -- Eureka's ball court -- Xibalba's darkhouse -- Doomed to rot -- Would've aced the other tests -- Eating glass -- Metnal mental -- Raggedy Ann -- .Extravagant *** -- Yellow wallpaper on every face -- Painted blue for sacrifice -- Puppet overnight -- Trying to gut truth -- But so far the mystagogues have webbed tongues -- And the angels all have angles --
Nov 26, 2011
Nov 26, 2011 at 1:44 AM UTC
and it’s cold outside
on the dock
the dog is chasing mosquitoes
and I am drinking cheap wine
I wonder if my mother knew I’d be
as ugly as the world
black and blue and green
but mostly black
and I think back to high school
when I aced calculus
and made out with Ashley in the back of her Jetta
but I’ve always hated math
and Ashley died drunk driving her Jetta, I think
the dog and I head back up to the cabin
for another bottle of wine
as I walk up the steps
I can hear Hank Williams on the Silvertone
“my bucket’s got a hole in in it
my bucket’s got a hole in it”
Jun 10, 2013
Jun 10, 2013 at 2:37 PM UTC
To those who write,
cause they have the taste,
the taste for lyrical truth,
that they never waist,
to the dreams,
that we have chased,
some having succeed,
even aced,
to loved ones,
that we have or long to embrace,
to the challenges,
that we are afraid or fearless to face,
to ourselves,
who sometimes we misplace,
to all your poems,
for whatever they're based,
keep writing,
don't allow yourself to be erased.
Feb 15, 2013
Feb 15, 2013 at 12:11 AM UTC
Even to this day, I still think about the times,
That i held you in my arms and I looked you in the eyes.
Many seasons passed, still I keep you in my heart,
Losing you was stupid but we both played each our part.
Many nights, I wake up, panting, break out in a sweat,
Your smiling face and gorgeous eyes, now how could I forget?
Remember back, when we first met, you'd come find me at work?
I couldn't tell but later knew, we'd both flirt back and forth.
And honestly, i was surprised, a girl like you liked me??
That's when i stopped and thought about what you and me might be.
Took me a minute but soon I got a name and seven digits,
And promised you that I would call as soon as work was finished.
We'd conversate and contemplate, things were going great.
Your voice alone was soothing but now im thinkin 'wait'
Could this be a dream? I put those thoughts way back in mind.
When you'd speak to me, I would lose all track of time.
Seconds turned to hours, hours into days.
For now the time was ours, so lets not let it waste.
I was convinced as time went on, I knew you were the one.
You were my life, my everything, my star, you were my sun.
We were both king and queen, together, we would rule
You could grade our love on every subject in school.
Cuz I really loved her, her and all her crazy ways.
Our chemistry was perfect and we'd get a perfect A.
History, we aced it, and mathematics, easy.
Cuz one plus one, is one, we knew together that's what we'd be.
English a no-brainer but spanish was kinda harder.
We took phy ed and passed, then we took it a little farther.
I studied every inch of her, it was my favorite class.
She'd test me every day and every single day i'd pass.
She was the one, even a blind man could see.
Alone I am one half, she's the other part of me...
Nov 29, 2012
Nov 29, 2012 at 4:46 PM UTC
You've put me to the test
I've aced every single one
I proved my worth
So let's not lollygag
Enough of the charades
Aug 18, 2015
Aug 18, 2015 at 11:32 AM UTC
I am not a King, like Henry,
But I've princes and princesses.
I am not a Neruda,
But I'm read.
I am not a Lewis,
Yet others laugh with me.
I am not a Palmer,
Though I've aced a few.
I am no Lennon,
However, I'm asked to sing.
I am far from being a Casanova,
And yet, I'm not alone.
I am no Graham,
Though the spirit moves me.
I am no Saarinen,
But my children sleep in beds I made.
Don't call me an Einstein
Because I've understood.
I am not a Child,
But you are welcome at my table.
I am none but myself.
If they spoke,
They'd envy me.
Aug 23, 2017
Aug 23, 2017 at 10:34 AM UTC
Nailed the test, set the curve, everyone wants to choke you
Got a phone number from the hottest woman in the place, infront of your buddies
Complained about the shabby service and got your friend's money back, like a boss
The birth of your son. The birth of your second boy. The birth of your daughter.
Aced the the the parallel parking manuver infront of your father
The surprise proposal, and the calosal surprise, "Yes!" :)
First legal drive in the car without your father in the passenger seat
O' that feeling!!!! Like a boss!
Jun 27, 2014
Jun 27, 2014 at 11:26 PM UTC
Let me get this STRAIGHT.
Hold on, I'm gonna run this BI you.
I wanna see how this PANs out, ok?
LES just see how this goes.
I need you to TRANSfer those papers.
Come on, I bet you ACEd the test!
Aug 20, 2019
Aug 20, 2019 at 10:45 AM UTC
Why do we even
celebrate birthdays,
anyway?
We remember the date
of the day we were brought
into the world,
and somehow it has meaning to us.
We'll never even remember
what being born felt like.
Feelings we do remember, though—
our very first chapter book,
first best friend,
the day we scored the winning goal,
or aced a really difficult test,
all those dates are
completely forgotten to us
and we don't think twice about
when they happened.
We don't save a day
to celebrate those times.
Yet the day we first cried
and first tasted the air,
the very first time ever
that we weren't completely comfortable,
the moment we were introduced
to the world,
we remember that instant
down to the minute
and spend all year waiting
for that day to happen again
so we can celebrate it
another time
without really even knowing why.
Sep 23, 2013
Sep 23, 2013 at 1:51 PM UTC
So I have this reoccurring dream where
I rush to my childhood home and
Open my bedroom door, immediately hit with the familiarity of the smell of day old crackers masked by Febreze.
My eyes search to find a cage full of rats.
I have never owned a rat.
Yet, there are about 20 of the fuzzy little guys
Gnawing at the bars of the cage, pink paws grabbing and clutching, exasperated squeaks escaping their mouths as if to say “Help me!” or “Welcome home!”, my subconscious isn’t smart enough to clarify which.
I open the cage,
A few of them are dead.
Stiff. Small. Dead.
Instead of waiting to mourn
I quickly scoop up the others in my arms
Cuddling them close.
The scenery changes to a pirate ship in the way that dreams do.
Slowly and in a way that sort of makes you dizzy but your dream self doesn’t even notice and it only starts to mess you up when you’re thinking about it while eating Froot Loops two days later.
The rats are afraid and hurry out of my arms
I desperately try to scramble them up
But one by one they all fall overboard.
Now, I aced AP Psychology, so I know how to interpret this
There are 3 theories on dreams.
Information processing theory says dreams sort, sift, and fix a day's experience into memories.
I don’t remember losing my precious rats on a pirate ship.
So that isn’t it.
Problem solving theory says dreams are the continuity of waking thought but without the constraints of logic or realism. That dreams are meant for solving your problems. It suggests my rats are metaphors. I love rats, and if rats are problems, what does that say about me? That I keep trying to hold my issues and insecurities close to me but can’t juggle them all? That all my chances keep falling and dying and I’m losing my sense of self. That I need a reason to be the victim in every situation so I will never have to take responsibility for my actions and I can pretend like my faults never happened. And what about the pirate ship? Like, I don’t even like pirates so why would I put myself in a place I hate and then cling to disgusting faults like they’re precious. None of this makes sense, except maybe it does and I refuse to admit it, I’m in denial, I don’t want to get better I want to stay in this awful cycle forever.
But activation synthesis theory says dreams are a product of activity in the brain. The cerebral cortex attempts to make sense of neural firings by creating a story. In other words, dreams have no meaning. So this whole poem.
Is worthless.
As worthless as a rat.
A small. Fuzzy. Loving.
Yet short-lived rat.
May 2, 2017
May 2, 2017 at 2:48 PM UTC