"classes" poems
Born to a body I do not know
formative years spent in ignorance
crashing trucks together, hot wheels
running them off the curb outside
with my best friend
He is distant now
same classes, same neighborhood
lives spent together
running through fields and muddy waters on rainy days
my friend
Familiar friend reaches for my hand
he kisses it, wet lips leaving trails of hope
a life spent apart
running through absent moments, a blissful craze
does he know me?
He holds me close, hands on my cheek
he kisses my lips, leaving a fire inside of me
a life come around
recognition a threat to a blissful moment
he knows me…
…and kisses me again
Jun 13, 2015
Jun 13, 2015 at 7:32 PM UTC
Pimple popping
Lathered deodorant
Awkward tampons
Hair in unwanted places
Drunken nights
Failed hangover cures
Flunked classes
Broken hearts
First kisses and first times
Rebounds
Hookups
Hickeys
Rushes of frustration
These are all
unglamorous occasions
Of a not so florescent
Adolescence
Jun 18, 2014
Jun 18, 2014 at 3:06 PM UTC
When I was little my mother put me in several ballet classes in hopes to bring some grace to my stumbling gait.
I grew up walking on eggshells, wobbling to keep my balance on a tightrope that never really ended.
My instructor pinched my thighs and shook her bony finger at me every tuesday and thursday for three and a half years.
4 am, I'm still tiptoeing around the creaks in the stairs as if anyone would notice an empty bed.
This Christmas I came across the broken reminents of the ballerina ornaments my younger sister used to play with.
I never did master the delicate posture I was expected to adopt. My feet fell a bit too heavy, I suppose, on the ice tonight.
I'm not cold anymore, just exhausted from attempting to balance the wrong things for too long.
My life is flashing before my eyes, but all I see is a younger version of myself practicing Grand Battements on thin ice while everyone slept.
Dec 21, 2014
Dec 21, 2014 at 3:18 PM UTC
Dear Ex-Best Friend,
Remember all the times we spent together,
everyday started with meeting before classes started because that was the only
time we could talk until lunch,
remember all the times we laughed so hard we cried?
Do you remember all the times we had to hold one another in times of the need
because we thought all we had was each other?
Yeah.. Me too.
We spent all the time in the world texting and calling each other.
Things changed a little since I got a boyfriend,
but I never replaced you.
You always had a special place in my heart, and I think you always knew that.
We drifted apart, like two boats at sea.
You switched back to the school you came from,
and it felt like my life had just sunk.
Suddenly I was all alone in the hallways,
Coming in to school was like hell,
Seeing the spot we used to stand in,
Occupied by another set of best friends,
Or maybe two high school sweethearts- Making out like there's no one around.
It was so lonely without you.
You seemed happier where you were though, and at that time, that was all that mattered to me.
I walked the hallways with a sad, sorrowful look.
Teachers frequently asked if I was sick, or if I needed to lay down.
Suddenly I was that one kid that everyone wanted to pick and beat on. (Again.)
I was incredibly lonely at school, I couldn't even sit with anyone at lunch because I was so hated by so many people for reasons I didn't even know.
Come upon my junior year I got a month and a half into the school year before
I switched to the school that you went to.
I was reunited with my best friend,
Life seemed so good.
I was with my boyfriend, and my bestfriend.
It felt like nothing could stop me from gaining happiness.
You began going through boyfriends,
They would come,
and they would go.
I was put second to all of them.
There were days I was so depressed I didn't function correctly,
and all we would talk about is what you and your boyfriend did the previous night.
I was so happy that you were happy,
but I think I forgot the definition of "Happiness."
Everyday was full of being ignored and having guys' push past me so they could hug you while I sat in the sideline just waiting there, tears filling in my eyes because I realized that I wasn't significant to my best friend any more.
I couldn't help but wonder what I did wrong.
I got tired of feeling this way,
I grew up, and realized that highschool isn't meant for gaining the love and affection of people.
I proceeded to end the friendship because it wasn't making me happy anymore.
I understand that a true friend stays there through everything but in no way, shape, or form did I deserve to be kicked to the curb like a diseased puppy.
It hurt, It hurt like a *****
But ultimately , I'm gonna be okay in the end.
And I hope she ends up okay, too.
But, just be okay without me.
May 25, 2017
May 25, 2017 at 8:30 AM UTC
My name is Ashly (yes spelled without
the E)
I was born without a windpipe and was 3 months premature.
I underwent surgery for a tracheostomy and died on the operating table.
I was revived.
I was hooked up to many machines and my parents were told I wouldn’t live for more then 3 days...
If I would survive more then 3 days I would be hooked up to machines my whole life and be in a “vegetative state”
Doctors told my parents and family “I would never live to see my 18th birthday.”
I lived in the hospital for almost 2 years.
At age 2, I myself, ripped out my tracheostomy (which could have killed me)
My family rushed me to children’s hospital and the doctors decided to let the hole in my neck close and see what happens.
My doctors don’t know how I made it through the night or days after.
I went home after a couple weeks and that’s when I started living my life as a “normal” child.
All of my sisters were involved in dance classes, my parents( doctors didn’t agree) enrolled me in to classes.
THATS WHERE MY LIFE CHANGED
Dance became my passion, along with gymnastics and musical theatre.
Something my family, doctors or even myself never thought I would EVER do.
On my 18th birthday it was a mixture of emotions.
I made a milestone that no one said I would ever see.
I competed in dance and gymnastics until I was 19 years of age as well as did over 60 musicals at my local theatre company.
I never thought I would ever have a boy love me because I had “too many problems” or even get married for that matter.
Fast forward, I am now almost 33 ( June .11th is my birthday)
Married for almost 8 years to my best friend.
Happy doesn’t even cover what I feel everyday waking up next to my love.
We may not have a “family” of our own but we are happy and in love over the moon with one another.
So why did I just ramble on with this?
Because I’m a MIRACLE and a SURVIVOR.
Even though I don’t remember much from my childhood and what I and my family had to endure, I have been fighter since my first breath.
I’M A SURVIVOR and I’VE MADE IT....
Mar 18, 2018
Mar 18, 2018 at 3:09 PM UTC
Rich People are pouring brandy in their glasses
as the winter freezes the ones from the lower classes
The lazy riches who do nothing are eating a lot
and the hardworking labourers are left to rot
The Greedy Sons of Man fight and die for money
collecting even a coin,like bees collect nectar for honey
Rich People are commiting crimes and moving free
as the poor are treated like dogs of low degree
Swanking their richness is their biggest pleasure
and the miseries of the poor are out any measure
The Money Hungry just want more of it all around
just like mud laden pigs roll in muddy ground
Rich People believe they are not bound to any rule
and the low classes are the ones who get fooled
Even the government listens to the Riches the most
and the others are burdened with rising costs
The Lettuce Frenzied are hoarding money in bank
just like dogs bury the bones in the lands
Rich People believe that they are of a superior race
and the low classes are the ones thrown into disgrace
Exploiting the poor is Rich People's favourite habit
and the others just watch,waiting for the same of it
The Money loving people can make the system bend
and why does this vicious beast of humanity has NO END ?
Jan 30, 2011
Jan 30, 2011 at 4:25 AM UTC
Once I undertook a journey,
upon the very face of our entire world.
To view for myself the many pictures,
and written descriptions in all the geography
books and History Classes, National
Geographic magazines and movies seen.
A Quest to see with my own eyes what
I had only experienced second hand.
In my mid twenties, like a dream,
one foot in front of the other,
I went about exploring.
I sniffed and tasted the scents of foreign lands,
Incense, Sage and Frankincense, fish curry,
fried snake and even monkey brains.
Walked in lush Jungle Bush and Desert sands,
Along the shores of Islands and the coasts
of many lands.
Heard the voices of 30 divergent Dialects
and cultures, smiling and laughing with
the families and children of all of them.
Set beside the fires of primitive tribal men,
heard their chants to their gods above, the
moon, stars and the sun, the ocean, the land.
Clapped my hands and moved my feet in
their ancient mystic dances.
Drank their tea, Kava or whatever they shared
grateful for their offered unselfish brotherhood.
Stood on the flanks of the tallest Mountains
in the world, on my toe tips, to try to see the
face of the God of my youthful teachings,
disappointed when I did not see him, or Her.
Found instead an inner tranquility, imparted
to me by Red robbed Monks from within their
chants of Peace and wise earthly enlightenments.
Strolled the cobbled streets of two thousand year
old Cities. Walked among the ruined remnants of
nearly forgotten once great Civilizations.
Explored Modern European Citadels' of wealth and learning.
Over time rode on planes, ships, buses, backs of open trucks,
Horse pulled carts and human drawn rickshaws, taxis, subways,
rented motorcycles and cars. Walked perhaps 1000 miles.
In all a journey of the mind and heart lasting three years.
And why you might ask, "What qualifies you as a pilgrim
of any kind, to travel so far, and wide?"
"What was I looking for, what did I hope to find?"
All indeed, fare questions.
When a boy, I read a simple five word line,
“Seek and thee shall find". Curiosity and
Horizon Lust compelled me.
The next obvious question you might
ask is, after all that; “What did you find?”
That answer is very simple,
I found myself.
Dec 10, 2013
Dec 10, 2013 at 7:14 PM UTC
Slavery
A moral depravity
A moral degeneracy followed by intellectual degeneration
A luxury and currution among the upper classes
Slavery
A world without the fundamental human rights
Revolting cruelty from the ****** outrage to brutal ******
Slavery
World of chains
World of hard labour
World of pains sorrow and agony
Songs of joy are sang in the world seeing the end to this hideous blot
Yet slavery still exist in the modern world
Described as modern slavery
Modern slavery
A world without chains yet psychologically we are chained
World without hard labour yet we work ourselves out to survive
World with fundamental human rights but filled with betrayal at the cause of justice
Slavery
World for the poor
World for the less privelage
World of reality
Mar 14, 2013
Mar 14, 2013 at 6:22 PM UTC
Today I am superwoman,
I go to three jobs, one meeting, two classes
I wear five hats throughout the day.
I got those lovely eyebags as my trophy.
By being superwoman I accomplish anything,
everything that they told me I couldn't do.
I wanted to be in student government...
the popularity vote told me no but I showed them
I could do that too. They said you can't have everything
and here I am sitting with it all.
In this day of superpowers
I fly from class to job to job to job to meeting to home
but I am the most human today.
I laugh in the face of my fears of failure because I have already gotten on the road to success.
I cry because even I am entitled to a good cry every once in a while.
I am cranky because it evens out the crazy bubblyness that I always am.
I radiate happiness although I am drowning in work
I support and lean on those around me causing a tangled connection of love
In every capacity I am me, happy, sad, lethargic, energized, hyper, lost, leading.
In every Wednesday, I remember that my humanity all in itself makes me just as super human as the next girl or guy.
May 22, 2014
May 22, 2014 at 2:59 AM UTC
Most schools have projects, in science classes and such.
Most of us, mastered the science of surviving in projects.
It's those at the bottom who need the most help, but cant even get proper school supplies.. where's the logic ?.
But oh, the rags to riches story is prevalent isn't it? Nope, the only rich I know is Professor Richard.
And that's not even something worth mentioning, he does more lessening than lessons lets paint the picture..
But these young kids don't understand, they try to curse them, place them in prisons, its a trap from birth..
Give them these Rick Rosses as role models, knowing they don't have fathers, instead of Tupac Shakur, showing them worth..
My bestfriend Tony once questioned his dark skin, just like i once questioned my brown.
how profound, a couple 4th graders at the time, having to prove that they were "down".
Crazy how Tony proved he was down, now i visit his site yearly on November the third.
And things aren't getting better, but nobody gives a **** haven't you heard..
The prayers our mothers chant, ritually every night.
Praying to the Sun gods, perhaps one day we'll all unite.
-afj
Oct 4, 2014
Oct 4, 2014 at 8:34 AM UTC
I am so nervous and excited all at once
I start school tomorrow
I hope I can navigate my way through the site for my on line classes
I hope I will quickly learn what I need to
I yearn to attain new knowledge
I will need to get more organized
I can not disguise that I am not a morning person
I hope with my morning cup of coffee I can make it through
I will need to dust off my thinking cap and resist the temptation to take a nap
I will wipe the cobwebs off my mind and armed with determination everything should work out fine
I am grateful for the new adventure
Sep 7, 2014
Sep 7, 2014 at 6:13 PM UTC
I sat all morning in the college sick bay
Counting bells knelling classes to a close.
At two o'clock our neighbors drove me home.
In the porch I met my father crying--
He had always taken funerals in his stride--
And Big Jim Evans saying it was a hard blow.
The baby cooed and laughed and rocked the pram
When I came in, and I was embarrassed
By old men standing up to shake my hand
And tell me they were "sorry for my trouble,"
Whispers informed strangers I was the eldest,
Away at school, as my mother held my hand
In hers and coughed out angry tearless sighs.
At ten o'clock the ambulance arrived
With the corpse, stanched and bandaged by the nurses.
Next morning I went up into the room. Snowdrops
And candles soothed the bedside; I saw him
For the first time in six weeks. Paler now,
Wearing a poppy bruise on his left temple,
He lay in the four foot box as in his cot.
No gaudy scars, the bumper knocked him clear.
A four foot box, a foot for every year.
12k
Clap along if you know what happiness is for you.
Happiness is going for a run with the dog
Happiness is waking up and looking out my bedroom window
Happiness is being part of the universe
Happiness is music full blast
Happiness is learning to South Coast Swing
Happiness is dancing round my kitchen
Happiness is cooking, baking, EATING
Happiness is being at college with my friends
Happiness is the cinema with Margaux
Happiness is knowing I'm not perfect, and being glad not to be
Happiness is a lie-in
Happiness is a cup of tea
Happiness is getting my assignments in
Happiness is seeing how much I have grown
Happiness is seeing my brother and sister
Happiness is my sister proud of who I'm becoming
Happiness is dreaming
Happiness is talking about my Mum
Happiness is the colour red
Happiness is my brother and his girlfriend
Happiness is the friends I've yet to make
Happiness is the classes I've yet to teach
Happiness is everything I've yet to learn
Happiness is Christmas with my Grandparents
Happiness is spending New Years Eve quietly
Happiness is knowing I'm going to be home
Happiness is choosing a path to get there
Happiness is everywhere when we look for it
Happiness is me.
Jan 5, 2014
Jan 5, 2014 at 6:34 AM UTC
pigeons still
wait for meals
by that bench
where Sun once grew
in tufts of gold
girls skipping classes
to window shop
their scarves wild
and their nails chipped
tough boys go out and smoke
and cough and dance
and act brave
and cut their hair
in the dark
and words of a new language
tumble down our tongues
head over heels
tasting strange
but falling into place
after all
Jul 15, 2017
Jul 15, 2017 at 7:59 PM UTC
1.
Nymphomaniac-addicts,
Overweight bisexual vegetarians
Climbing trees to stay fit
and eating 80’s fried chicken *******
2.
just imagine
Aquarians full of class valedictorians
Swimming on display for graduation ceremony…
reverse-symbolism of how Moolch drowned His *****
3.
Better yet, just imagine
Holy wars,
Beautiful words written to describe the burning pains
Of holocaust...the Kristallnacht nights
Under the mistletoe,
Watching Hall of fame ball hawks on pivot toes
Driving through hoes
After the whistle blows
4
College Literacy classes teaching basic:
Ideas that good questions leads to good answers,
Reading reminders
Free association conceptual constructions
5.
But ************ professor:
free association **** shticks
misfires, false alarms
are all art, too,
Like sticking a dagger into an apple,
Not the edible, but the technology.
6.
Go head, deconstruct the philosophy
Of oral cute-tification,
according to the Tautology of Leviticus,
With the same three half truths, pogroms
against biological deviant... FLAGS!
7.
Cryptic gospels of a ************
Where three F.F.F’s
Stands for six six six
Like how 1mg of juxtaposition
And a dose of metamorphosis
is the repertoire of a king of curmudgeon
‘cause even the Holy Ghost
drinks from the cup of Christ’s blood.
8.
Reading,
Self-flagellation gospel-manual of Pope John Paul II,
At shrink sessions under the daze of heron Piper methysticum blunts
With sweet phat butts like lit lickerish that droop eyes
Like the psalm of Valeriana officinalis root extract.
Feb 12, 2012
Feb 12, 2012 at 12:46 PM UTC
Yank myself out of bed
Peel the film of sleep from 'round my head
It's 4:00 AM
And all the world is dead.
It's 4:00 AM and all the world is dead.
From the streets every man has fled.
But in hours it again shall be
Brimming with potential; energy set free.
I assemble my appearance.
Staring into the mirror,
I say to myself: "One last time.
"One final tour."
The door is open, before it I stand
To face morning's faint chill
Surrounded by paling blue.
There! The first bird's trill.
The air is sweet
And free of smog.
The faintest fog
Is draped on the trees.
The empty street beckons
And freely I obey.
I have things I need to do
Before the commencement of the day.
I pass the playground on the corner,
Where I wasted time as a child.
Where many a battle was fought
And we had adventures in the wild.
Past the playground and to my left
There is the river bank
Where I went fishing with my father
And my friends and I made our mothers mad:
Where we lit our little fires
And we had our first drinks.
Where we shared our first joint
And came to talk and think.
Our school is down the way.
We all can safely say
It's the place where we first learned
Classes and books have less to say than the real world.
We became:
Artists.
Athletes.
Academics.
Our achievements
Are scrawled upon
The stone walls
That lined that same river.
A little further on,
And there's the little store
Where I kissed my first fleeting love
Just outside the door.
I keep walking, I keep walking,
Until I reach the shore.
I put my back against a rock
And rest on that sandy floor.
The life that I'll soon be leaving
Lies behind me asleep
While I watch the sun lazily rise
Over the mysterious, unexplored deep.
I built myself in this town
And it built me as well.
But I cannot stay much longer:
In a few hours I will bid it farewell.
Will I ever make it back?
Will I ever return
To trace the scrawlings by the riverbank
With bare fingers full of nostalgia?
Nothing at all is sure.
Therefore I must take this last chance
To make my final tour.
May 8, 2015
May 8, 2015 at 8:25 AM UTC
A good man died today
Buildings did not close
Flags were not flown at
half mast
School children
attended classes
and life went on
as it did yesterday
and will again
tomorrow.
But he was my friend
and people should know
A good man died today
Oct 3, 2010
Oct 3, 2010 at 1:00 AM UTC
Graffiti, Graffiti, Graffiti
Being bled onto
The landscapes between thighs
Incarcerating women's wombs
Justifying men's genes
Foreigners appropriating
Women's and men's sexualities
Losing the power to be
When changing our roles' long overdue
Gendering our words and attitudes
Man, who taught you to be a chauvinist!
Woman, who taught you to be a *********
Don't put your god in gendered bigotry
Do man's emotions feminize him?
When will women freely carry torches!
What gender do you assign this voice?
What gender do you assign this words?
Will the masses even understand these choices?
Don't worry, my sexuality won't infect you
Criminalizing sexuality
Placing it front and center, implying that's all I am
Graffiti, Graffiti, Graffiti
Being bled onto
The landscapes between thighs
Graffiti, defiling the masses not high classes
Because men and women of society
Full of stride, take pride, in their gendered hyde
Graffiti, defiling the masses not high classes
Ignored hoods, barrios, countrysides, ghettos, projects
Devouring women's and men's bodies
Younger and younger people falling to HIV/AIDS and STDS
Vaginas receiving the violence, wombs bringing misery
LGBT youth ****** into fire
Lost males (in mental chains) ****** to assert their manhoods
Graffiti, Graffiti, Graffiti
Full of dangerous chemicals, being sprayed onto
The landscapes between thighs
Attempting to legislate our stories, without warrant
Jan 29, 2013
Jan 29, 2013 at 10:06 PM UTC
Id love a big fat ****
Or a wrinkled up old bag
An ugly looking hag
Who wants a ******* ****
If I had a big fat ***** with a big fat bucket
I'd lay between her fleshy thighs, and definitely **** it
My thrusting **** inside her **** is where I'd like to tuck it
Spunking up would be sublime, when I lick and **** it
When your about to **** the fat, it takes a certain knack
Stuffed up fishy **** ***** or **** ******* round the back
A nice piece of chunky **** with a big long sweaty crack
Fatty *** holes make you hard ,my **** would not be slack
I would ride a big large Gal, just like a waterbed
Bathroom ******* would be fun, as well as in the shed
Spunking up between her legs, cream cheese would then be spread
When both holes are full of *** she can **** my **** instead
And after I have finished, with all of those fat *******
Something different I would want, maybe some old wrinkled witches
All wearing apple gatherers, and big large ******* britches
Older ***** long overdue, scratching long lost itches
A lot of fun I could have, in an old folks place
Disrobed willing grannies ***** stuffed right in my face
At least eight bits of gristle ****** a display of my disgrace
With each granny ****** in turn, if they can stand the pace
As I lift their skirts up their knickers I would sniff
I'm hoping that old fannies good, and they don't smell or whiff
The smell of old used granny **** is probably just a myth
But I won't let it bother me, as long as I get stiff
I wouldn't even care, if they wore crap NHS glasses
As long as I could **** and *** inside there wrinkled arses
I would **** them old ****** , all from different classes
Some of them in wheelchairs and some with heart bypasses.
It's irrelevant how fat you are, I really do not mind
As long as you are willing, and your pussy's wet and kind
And if you like it up the **** then I'm that way inclined
******* ***** is quite fine, so is ******** from behind
So come on girls fat or old, all slags are a possibility
Your sexuality can flood out, there's no need for negativity
I'm willing to **** who comes along, to the best of my ability
Just make sure that I stay stiff, and maintain my agility
Feb 18, 2016
Feb 18, 2016 at 5:44 AM UTC
I am blind
And I ain't blind
To the different social classes
And their faces
I try and try to be impartial
But my fears and preconceptions
Give way to prejudice of thought
Love and unity fill my mind
Yet when its time
To effect some change
My feet quiver
And words can't formulate
I want to tell my brethren
you are special to me
and I love you just the same
As anybody else
But I'm scared of what he will respond
Will he reject me as we are not the same
Will he embrace me and bring forth a seed of change
I am blind
And I ain't blind
To the disdain classes afford one another
Man threatens to discard the fact we're all the same
So I wonder
Can we look beyond facades
Strip it all down to our core
Don't we all want to feel the same
Maybe we can toughen up and take down the ranks
That impede us from becoming one-another's friend
Dec 3, 2010
Dec 3, 2010 at 2:57 AM UTC
She said,
"Before you get in my britches,
you'd better fly,
give me a gold coin,
tell me how beautiful I am."
I replied,
"Honey, you're beeeeuuuutiful!
Here's a gold coin.
Sorry, I can't fly, but
I'll start taking classes next week."
She smiled,
winked, and
walked away
with my token.
Guess, that wasn't good enough......
Dec 9, 2013
Dec 9, 2013 at 5:25 PM UTC
UMMMMMMMMM SAVE US FROM THESE ONLINE KILLERS
UMMMMMMMMM THEY ARE JUST TRYING TO ENJOY THE FUTURE OF TECHNOLOGY
UMMMMMMMMM PLEASE SAVE OUR YOUNG, UMMMMMMM THEY ARE TREATED LIKE TOYS
UMMMMMMMMM STOP THESE INTERNET PREDATORS, UMMMMMM FROM GETTING THEIR WAY WITH VICTIMS
UMMMMMMMMM THE COMPUTER ISN’T A TOY, IT CAN BE DANGEROUS, DON’T LET MY OLD ME, IN ANY OF YOU
I DON’T WANT PEOPLE GETTING ME WRONG UMMMMMMMMM I WANT ANY SIDE OF KIDNAPPER OUT OF ME
UMMMMMMMMM PLEASE COUNCIL BRETT’S FAMILY UMMMMMMMMMM PLEASE COUNCIL BRETT’S FAMILY
UMMMMMMMMM THESE INTERNET PREDATORS MUST BE STOPPED, UMMMMMMMM BURT IT’S HARD TO STOP THEM
UMMMMMMMMM YOUTUBE IS FUN AND UMMMMMMMMM DONE IN THE RIGHT WAY, FACEBOOK IS FUN
UMMMMMMMMM YOUNG DUDES, BE CAREFUL, UMMMMMMM YOUNG DUDES BE CAREFUL
UMMMMMMMMM DON’T MAKE STRANGE FRIENDS, UMMMMMMM CHOOSE YOUR MATES CAREFULLY
UMMMMMMMMMM CAUSE, THIS IS A HORRIBLE EVENT UMMMMMMM HELP GIVE EVERYONE PROPER COMPUTER CLASSES
UMMMMMMMMMM ON HOW TO HAVE FUN ON COMPUTER UMMMMMMM MY DAD WHO DIED AND BORN AGAIN AS ELIZABETH ANN CAMPBELL
UMMMMMMMMMM ALWAYS TRIED TO UNDERSTAND TECHNOLOGY UMMMMMM DON’T LET INNOCENT BOYS BE CAPTURED BY COMPUTER GEEKS
UMMMMMMMMMM NO COMPUTERS ARE FUN, SOCIAL MEDIA IS FUN UMMMMMM BUT PREDATORS ARE DANGEROUS
UMMMMMMMMMM DON’T LET WHAT HAPPENED TO BRETT, HAPPEN TO YOU, UMMMMMMMM TECHNOLOGY IS FUN, UMMMMMMM TECHNOLOGY IS FUN
UMMMMMMMMM BUDDHA ATHENA AND CROBUS, WHO IS ME, TO STOP ONLINE PREDATORS, GET THE HANDS ON OUR YOUNG
UMMMMMMMMM EVEN IF THEY ARE YOUNG THEMSELVES, UMMMMMMMMMM YEAH, BRING US PEACE FROM STUPID PREDATORS
UMMMMMMMMMM I AIN’T COOL TO **** UMMMMMMMMMM LIKE THE MAN DOING BURNOUTS IN THE CARPARK UMMMMMMM IT MIGHT LOOK FUN
UMMMMMMMMMM BUT IT COULD’VE KILLED THAT LADY, UMMMMMMMMMM IS IT REALLY WORTH IT, UMMMMMMMM IS IT REALLY WORTH IT
UMMMMMMMMMMM IS IT REALLY WORTH IT, TO **** FOR TECHNOLOGY, UMMMMMMMMM IT DOESN’T IMPROVE THE WORLD
UMMMMMMMM TO SEE ONLINE PREDATORS, GET THEIR WAY, UMMMMMMMMMM UMMMMMMMMMM UMMMMMMMMMM
Jan 13, 2015
Jan 13, 2015 at 12:06 AM UTC
“Oh you’re Irish?” he said.
“Did you learn the language much?” he said.
Honestly, what can I tell him? I was raised in the North - a ****** wasteland for such a naïve question.
Vague memories of fumbled classes where our secret history was ditched just to get straight into the basics (Cad é mar atá tú?)
No – seriously - I was not tied to it – it was anonymous to me at that age.
Forgotten like some distant echo of once visiting Coole House as a child.
Sure, we knew it was “important”, “our national language”, “heritage” etc. and we were warned it was quickly slipping into the drain of Western hegemony.
But it was baffling, unsexy and only the blunt-faced humorless IRA thugs amongst us were in any way keen.
Then it was gone, just like the faded memories of “The Children of Lir” from my primary school.
Looking back I wonder, what was the point?
A half-full measure paying lip service to our identity.
Teachers and headmasters terrified of the grand colonial reveal that the lessons might have hinted at (were they trying to stop us being Provos-in-waiting?).
And all of this against the awful shame of a common tongue that had no foe yet was slowly vanquishing from our shores.
It could have all been so different.
Rather than rushing to get something in our empty skulls, they could have given us a sense of joy, pride & belief in our own culture.
Calling on Yeats, Behan, Heaney and others to drown us in the language of our ancestors.
Telling the stories of old that only the academics & hippies were keeping from us then.
You know, it might kept us all on the same beautifully illuminated page.
We might have been comfortable in our skins and open to others,
not looking deep into our worthlessness and lashing out at them.
Language is being and language is connecting, I’ve learnt.
But that’s not something I got from my secondary school.
June-July 2018
Sep 12, 2018
Sep 12, 2018 at 6:06 PM UTC
School days in winter
Were such fun
Without a care,
When we were young.
At recess we'd slide
On ice,
Build our forts,
Duck and fight.
The firemen
Beneath starlight,
Would flood our schoolyard,
Whet appetites
For hockey games
Between senior classes;
We'd skate and shoot,
Fall on our *****
Such joy and fun,
And no one lost.
The bell would sound,
Then we'd toss
Our wet socks
On school room
Rads.
His and hers
Like banners waving,
Drying, hissing,
Choking, aging.
Impatiently we'd sit and wait,
Do our math
And conjugate;
The clock's hands,
Frozen,
Watched from
The wall,
At last the lunchtime
Bell would ring,
And we'd get bundled
Once again.
Before heading home
We're enticed
To slide once more
On hard, grey ice.
Nov 26, 2014
Nov 26, 2014 at 3:01 PM UTC