"graded" poems
The State of My Tagalog:
Stuttering.
Guess that's what you can call it.
The insecure prose that curls downward
On my notebook.
It reeks of bit
And piece
And syllable.
Singular
Because language
After language
After language
Enter my mind
And slip it
Just as quickly,
Leaving only
Fragments.
Oh, the frustration
As I ask
For loose change
From
My sister cashier.
I can't even ask for
The right amount
In Tagalog nowadays.
"Singkwenta."
"Bente."
That adds up to 75, I think.
Passing score on my
Report card too.
My self-graded Filipino class.
Don't even know
How I managed
To spell "Ibarra,"
"Tanikala," "himagsikan,"
"Liwayway..."
I'd sing and not spell,
If they never caught
At the bottom of my throat.
-------------------------------------------
Ang Kalagayan ng Aking Tagalog:
Nauutal.
'Yan ang pwede **** sabihin sa ‘kin.
Walang tiwala sa sariling gawa,
Patunong pababa ang mga salita
Sa aking kwaderno.
Ito’y sumisingaw ng piraso
At bahagi
At pantig.
Nag-iisa
Dahil wika
Bawa’t wika
Bawa’t wika
Ay pumapasok sa aking kalooban
At umaalis
Ganun ding kabilis,
Naiiwan ang mga
Kaputol lamang nito.
O, kay inip
Habang ako’y humihingi
Ng barya
Kay Ateng Kahera.
‘Di ko nga kayang
Humingi ng tamang halaga
Sa wikang Pilipino ngayon.
“Singkwenta.”
“Bente.”
Ito ay pitompu’t lima, ata.
Pasang awa rin
Sa aking report kard
Sariling pagmamarka sa Filipino.
‘Di ko nga alam
Kung paano 'kong
Naisusulat ang “Ibarra.”
"Tanikala," "himagsikan,"
"Liwayway…"
Nais kong kantahin at huwag lang sulatin,
Kung ‘di lang man silang sumasabit
Sa ilalim ng aking lalamunan.
Sep 22, 2014
Sep 22, 2014 at 10:31 AM UTC
Biology has no conscience
It doesn't care about love
It cares about reproduction
Biology does not care if someone gets hurt in the process
Biology does not care if he was your boyfriend
Fiance
Husband
Biology has no sympathy
Lust is not the same as love
But often it is mistaken as such
4 letters
3 out of the 4 make all the difference
You are part of an on going experiment
Observed by a classroom of billions
Constantly watching
Constantly scrutinizing
Harshly graded by a force that you couldn't comprehend
Don't try to change this
People have tried to change this for longer than you could imagine
Embrace it
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 1:20 AM UTC
What is my motherland?
Is it the dust that ravages my lungs
Or the bones of my ancestors
Humming softly the old and forgotten
What is my motherland?
Is it where I was born?
A piece of land, a group of people?
Or is it the place where
It's mothers are graded
In layers
Where some wombs only give birth
To sub humans
Where some wombs are scarred
Born from the ashes of a thousand dreams burnt down
I'm a survivor
Of all they could throw at you
Of all their insults
The predicament
My mother's womb that withstood all it could
And some more
They tell me this is my land
That it is my mother
The birth giver and sustainer of life
I spit on their faces
My motherland never was this piece of land
Or the people who **** on its soul
Each and every day
My people lived in a different world
On this piece of land where we were worse than animals to you
Where is my motherland?
I have none
Robbed of it since my birth
Where is my motherland?
But in the hearts of all who are like me
Set in stone
Yet defying gravity
Jan 6, 2016
Jan 6, 2016 at 5:26 PM UTC
my intelligence is not defined by a number, nor a letter.
nor should I be graded on a curve
by people
who don’t know me.
What does knowing the pythagorean theorem
have to do with me being a good person?
what will memorizing words on a page
help me with my rage
raging about how education has become
this conveyor belt
chewing up and spitting out
society’s warped up idea
of intelligence.
Throw me in a classroom with twenty-something students
just to tell me I’m better than him
but not as smart as her
teachers saturating our brains
with force fed textbook equations
telling us this is what we have to know to make it
“make it on time”, they say
“Passing it in late is not okay”
but when I am eventually thrown out
of this conveyor belt of education
the realization will be that life does not have
a set schedule.
my life will not change on time, as you ask
I cannot cram my creativity onto a five-paragraph
piece of paper.
I cannot crunch my knowledge
down onto six pages
about who I am
Don’t give me guidelines
my future does not have guidelines
you think you’re teaching us information
but in reality, you’re teaching us around the system
of how to get a passing grade
but not the exceeding knowledge
knowledge about what?
Our history?
what about our future?
We can’t learn about our future by staring at a blackboard
in a dim-lit room
with twenty-something other people
wondering what the hell we’re doing here
but being too scared to stand up
and ask.
Apr 4, 2013
Apr 4, 2013 at 1:47 PM UTC
Maybe my writing
Will improve
When strewn over
Blue lined graph paper,
Tiny boxes,
Coaxing out order,
Perhaps even
Clarifying boundaries
Between crazed truth,
And detrimental lies.
The grid putting
Poem in context,
Poem like graph,
Displaying
Levels of THC
Depression
Number of Kisses
Tears Cried
Outliers of secrets uttered.
Box and whisker plot
Displaying anxiety,
Skewed data toward extremes.
No.
Linear writing would
Reveal the chaos inside.
I can't fit the poems
To the squares.
A graph can't really cry
The way a person can.
There's a losing feeling
Etched in pen
On a harshly graded
Parcel of mathematical quizzing
That a poem has no place to
Instill in me.
And no one would
Be able to read my work
The way they tell you to show it.
My poems have no color coding.
Definition between data
Becomes hazy as
Layers of black are added
In empty,
All encompassing anger.
And I smoke while I write tonight,
Haze growing,
Lines wobbled,
And I may have put a poem
On a piece of graph paper
But it's nothing like the math homework
That stays in my backpack.
Sep 18, 2014
Sep 18, 2014 at 12:10 PM UTC
Dar Al-Hekma University hosted its second fashion show on Sunday that featured the work of its second batch of fashion design undergraduates.
The event, titled “Luminosity” was held under the auspices of Princess Reem **** Muhammad Al-Faisal. President of the university Dr. Suhair Hassan Al-Qurashi said: “Providing such events to our students before graduation exposes them to industry leaders of their prospective industries and gives them a head start in their careers.
“Dar Al-Hekma University’s students stand out because of the combination of their high caliber and the opportunities the university provides for them.”
Along with industry leaders, families of participating students attended. The event started with an opening speech by the department chair for the fashion design program Dina Kattan, who then introduced the sophomore and junior students’ work.
Afterward, models wearing three-piece collection garments designed by senior students scheduled to graduate this year took the stage and were graded by four judges.
Kattan said: “I am so proud of the work my students presented today; they worked really hard and they deserve a big hand. “Everyone was impressed with the level of creativity and attention to detail they demonstrated.”
The judges were Batool Jamjoom, businesswoman in the fashion industry and manager and owner of Jamjoom Fashion House; Amra Alabdalilsharif, director of the innovation and visual merchandising department at Rubaiyyat; Dalal Al-Hasan, a fashion designer; and Aram Kabbani, Dar Al-Hekma alumna and fashion stylist.
The grades students received during the fashion show will form part of their final grade. One of the students whose designs were featured at the show, Zahar Algain, said her collection was inspired by Mexican artist Frida Kahlo.
“Studying fashion has altered my perspective. I view fashion, in the same way that I view life; it’s a matter of balance and proportions.
“My interest in avant-garde fashion has led me to believe in using creativity to solve difficult situations. Algain’s collection was meant to blur the line between art and fashion.
“It is inspired by Frida Kahlo but with a fictional twist. “The story behind my collection is a daydream, a magical love story, an artwork; it is splattered with Frida’s colorful soul and spirit.”
Following this women only event, Dar Al-Hekma is organizing a one-day fashion design exhibition on Tuesday, which is open to all. The event starts from 7 p.m.Read more here:www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-adelaide | www.marieaustralia.com/long-formal-dresses
May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 11:09 PM UTC
The Beauty Of Wisdom And Intelligence,
You are seen in the Cosmic Reality herself,
You are the female part of Christ, called Wisdom and Intelligence,
Your Cosmic Math's is a beautiful thing to behold,
That a unlearned person like me who loves sports like me who is too unlearned in the world's eyes to understand the beauty of the Math's of the Cosmic Reality herself,
So only the real genius mind's understand your true beauty in the Cosmic Reality herself,
But I was good enough at math's at college to get a 98% in a test score and student tutored a girl in class called Bev.
But Wisdom and Intelligence; you really enlightened great minds like Newton, Einstein and Hawking's?
So Wisdom and Intelligence hear my simple math's plea, I am alone and the math's of Wisdom and Intelligence say's its not right for man to be alone?
So make the one alone into two and then the two become one again?
So my math's is simple and unlearned by Wisdom and Intelligence's mathematical eyes; but its the most beautiful sum in the Cosmic Reality herself?
So Wisdom and Intelligence says I've done the math's?
I've marked your sum; I have graded your test paper A+ and gifted you a younger sister bride to be the sum of sums for all eternality,
This younger sister bride will never divide her love for you,
Because one divide into two should stay two, but by theoretical mathematician's the two become the perfect nought number of one raised to nought or zero power nought or zero is one for all eternality,
You shall always be one in body, heart, mind and soul,
You will always have Wisdom and Intelligence tutoring you about the beauty in the Math's of the Cosmic Reality herself,
But never forget to look up at the star's, nebula's and galaxies together and the two who are one see the Math's of love in each other's eyes and the math's of love in the Cosmic Reality herself.
Dec 30, 2021
Dec 30, 2021 at 11:14 AM UTC
Vietnam, you uncovered my soul
Gave me a song, a direction smog
Looked at the pandora box I held
Unstripped my flames up temples
A hologram of the graded existence
Seasoned in explosions of burnt haste
Decked on buses,ducked in valleys
Chilled bays, overly paddled kayaks
Such sweet taste of the Halong bay
Undreamt mist of the skies stared
Fishing squids and bellied jellyfish
The soil, the sound,an orotund playlist
Mar 11, 2016
Mar 11, 2016 at 2:53 PM UTC
Pinstriped suit
Black briefcase
clink of heels
On marble floors
imposing glass walls
Emails coming in
Emails coming in
Slacks and a tshirt
Powderblue backpack
Red hightops
on gravel
lockers on walls
Students coming in
Students coming in
Oak desk
Open door
Client comes in
Check the emails
"I want a divorce"
turn to the client
turn to the client
Blackboard
Open door
Students stream through
Smile in greeting
"Recess 'aint long enough"
Open up textbooks
Open up textbooks
Client cries
Keep professional poise
nod in understanding
Show no weakness
"He won't sign the papers"
Just nod
Just nod
Students protest
explain over the noise
try to make them love it
show no weakness
"who cares abour 1945?!"
I care
I care
Go home
Collapse onto the
Black leather sofa
in front of
the plasma screen TV
Instant noodles for dinner
Instant noodles for dinner
Go home
Collapse onto the
stained, worn-out fouton
the kids badger
for some television time
Put the roast in the oven
Put the roast in the oven
The neighbors open
their doors
turn to watch yours
remian tight shut
Noone to expect
Noone to come home to
Noone to come home to
The key turns
in the lock
turn to see
him walk in
bag of groceries in hand
Dinner's almost ready
Dinner's almost ready
TV programs over
Noodles devoured
papers signed
emails replied to
slip into bed
In bed alone
In bed alone
Children fed and bathed
television switched off
homework assistance provided
papers graded
husband made love to
Someone to hold on to
Someone to hold on to
Bathtub full of
Cranberry scented foam
Water's cold now
Body's cold now
Cold blade on Cold marble floor
So much blood
So much blood
Alarm goes off
Wake the children
Pack the lunches
Make the breakfast
Read the paper
Such a sad sad suicide
Such a sad sad suicide
Bathtub full of
Cranberry scented foam
Water's cold now
Body's cold now
Cold blade on cold marble floor
So much blood
So much blood
Hold him close
So much warmth
Hold the kids tight
Transfer body heat
Why did she die?
She had it all
She had it all
Nobody to inheret
The condo with a view
The money in the bank
The diamond earrings
the workload
Nobody to miss
Nobody to miss
Hold him close
So much warmth
Hold the kids tight
Tarnsfer body heat
Why did she die?
She had nothing
She had nothing
May 17, 2012
May 17, 2012 at 8:40 PM UTC
We, the children of a system that awards you simple papers
That state 'he/she has achieved what we deem quality'
As we are all judged and graded in exactly the same way
Because they promote individuality unless it's intelligence
'We all learn differently, and at different paces'
Is an often preached sermon of our progenitors these days
Yet I know more about synonyms for ancestry and parents
Than how to survive once our papers begin to mean nothing
So here I'd like you to tell me what is considered knowledge
And I'd ask of the older generations to insert customary wisdom
Because more adults have spat quotes to me like gospel
Than tought me what I really need to know and value
I've got a track record spanning back almost two decades
Of being sorry for just being myself at all times
So I think my teachers should be proud of themselves
To know that the things they preach to me really get through
You see, homework and exams mean almost nothing
To those who need to really think on their feet
Because this same system idolizes the memory
Mistaking it for a wealth of rawest knowledge
So I love it when they say school is too easy on kids now
Rewarding losing and not promoting any ambition
Because I've been berated for attaining success at any level
Due to grades that define me not successful enough
Apr 15, 2014
Apr 15, 2014 at 8:08 PM UTC
Euphony * the quality of being pleasing to the ear, especially through a harmonious combination of words; making a phonetic change for ease of pronunciation
Hickory, dickory, dock,
The mouse ran up the clock.
The clock struck one,
The mouse ran down,
Hickory, dickory, dock
Trickery, diddly, rot,
This Diddy's life poems rhymed not,
The boys and girls all booed,
Your poetic life thumbs-down *******
Trickery, diddly, rot
sipped his morning coffee.
thoughts about mortality and mean
saw what wanted not to be, the unseen,
trickery, diddly, rot,
brain refrain, relief not,
the **** clock ticking,
the mouse laughing,
at his euphonious nonsense
he wept for being found out,
the noises in the house
joined in
all mocking with accusations
***you phony, us,
you, phony us***
another work day ended as it begun,
or began to end
teach felt
herself
for felt
tipped pen reach,
inky dinky in the dockers it flowed,
now I am red-tro-graded,
bold letter, no fading,
F
for failing
to phony us
slipped his head under the water,
but the words auditory
and most un laudatory
feared not a drownery,
followed him down
under
Oct 10, 2014
Oct 10, 2014 at 7:03 AM UTC
When my poems trend
How do they trend
Liked and loved
Lovely comments
Oh the perceptions
And my replies
Love them all
I post ,
Poets and poetesses
Friends
Do the reposts
Oh wow ,
I love the
Merry go Round
And then
The poem shines
On the front page
Alas !!!!
Graded yes Graded
Don't like that at all
A Big Sigh
As it's Snakes and ladders
All the time
And then comes
The great slide
Wow !!!
what a smooth ride
down the ramp
Zoom ....... it slips down
By the time I check
It's like Humpty Dumpty
Had a great fall
And ................,,,,
Couldn't put Humpty Dumpty
Lol Lol Lol .........
Oh I did love the
Merry go Round
Yet the slide ride down
Wasn't bad at all
Nov 5, 2017
Nov 5, 2017 at 1:52 AM UTC
At two weeks old I was blessed to be healthy, happy, and strong.
Which is actually really sweet.
At eight years old I was baptized fully underwater in a giant tub.
It sounds stranger than it was.
At eight years old I was confirmed a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints and given the gift of the Holy Ghost.
But why would the counsel of the Holy Ghost be a gift only given to those in this church?
*And why is the name so **** long?*
At twelve years old I was moved to different classes separated by gender then brought back together an hour later.
The concept and schedule of a three hour church day is quite strange.
At sixteen years old I could have followed the rule my parents and higher-ups had made to not date until sixteen but only in groups.
At fifteen years old I broke the rule and found a boy to call my own.
At eighteen years old I graduated from seminary, even though I lied.
It helps when we graded ourselves.
At eighteen years old I could have followed the rule my parents and higher-ups had made to be allowed to date without being in a group.
But I broke this rule three years prior.
At twenty-one years old I could have chosen to spend two years away from school, family, friends and serve the church through a mission.
A scary thought to me but a great experience to those who are faithful.
At twenty-one years old I told my parents, “I don’t think I believe.”
And crazily, they still love me.
Dec 6, 2015
Dec 6, 2015 at 5:32 PM UTC
Waking up one morning
It's a normal kind of day
Only there are bulldozers
on their way
It goes this way:
At the end of your driveway
down to the right
in front of the picket fence
The land is graded
a horizontal drill brought in
made to feel at home
You see,
We you me may own the land
But the mineral rights are theirs
A concrete utility structure goes up,
in what do you think?
About three weeks?
Chemicals are shot
horizontally under the land
under the house
to release the gas from the sand
While the ground water
is fearfully shivering
it knows
its days are numbered.
The concrete utility chimney
pouring out chemical smoke
24 hours a day.
The County says,
"What do you expect us to do?"
The State says
***** You "
Cancer clusters
Sick kids
Chemical water tasting very weird
Guess what?
Whether it be our 89,000
189,000 or 889,000 dollar
American dream home
The dog is going to be
taking a **** in the backyard
claiming ownership.
Welcome to LA too
No matter where you are
Every other day
the earth is shaking
buildings tumbling
Dance Dance Dance
Dots on a map
thousands of them
all around us
coming our way.
Better take a drive
next time on talk radio
"Drill baby Drill"
All hail Exxon
Cars love Shell Gasoline
The old USA
******* gas
And it sure ain't nitrous
cars idoling on a stop and go freeway
finding our true purpose
a grounded oil derreck
for the Koch Brothers
He who pays the piper calls the tune
Oh yeah
Drill baby Drill
I'm heading up Highway 101
The Earth hot and *****
for a new life form
Welcome to the new world order
Welcome to the new USA
Purloined, poisoned, polluted
The United Petro States of America.
Hey Hey Hey
Dec 15, 2016
Dec 15, 2016 at 12:27 PM UTC
I tried to tell her.
I did! Did she listen?
No, she didn’t bother.
It was test upon test.
You can’t pass something
You haven’t learned
However hard you’re trying.
But I gave it my best.
It was today that she
Finally graded that those tests.
Her look a degree
Colder than cold.
“This is very, very bad,”
Said she, and I agreed.
I couldn’t tell if she was sad or mad,
But she showed me my mark.
Fifty three out of fifty five.
“At least I got two,” I thought.
No matter how you strive,
You can’t know what you don’t know.
I tried to tell her so.
Nov 4, 2014
Nov 4, 2014 at 11:44 AM UTC
I submitted my poem
to a teacher, Mr Rowan
and he graded it an F
Still, I’m a great poet
he just doesn’t yet know it
but some day he’ll have to confess
though he’ll give me an E
yet when it comes to poetry
I’m the greatest poet there ever was
I’ll climb my way to a D
just wait and you’ll C
I’ll prove it just because
I’ll let go and let B
he’ll wonder if it’s me?
A poet born not made
he’ll grant me an A
on a poem I’ll tear up that day
and prove I’m more than just a grade
Jun 30, 2022
Jun 30, 2022 at 2:23 AM UTC
I'm sorry you had to steal
what was already freely given.
I hope your heart never burns
like mine did the day I wrote that.
I give to you freely
what you honestly deserve,
that is a second chance,
and a word of advice.
Give from yourself,
no gift can ever be poorly graded.
Sep 19, 2013
Sep 19, 2013 at 2:33 PM UTC
I wasn't afraid if the Devil sent you to me. In fact, if it was the Devil then this would all make complete sense. But the thing I'm terrified of is if God was the one who brought you to me. I wondered if you were a test- some graded assignment I had to complete to get to the Gates of Heaven.
Yet after meeting you, I didn't want to ascend into the Gates of Heaven. I wanted to stay on Earth, still using 24 hours trying to figure out why we are here. I wanted to stay in Purgatory, sinking my nails into the depth the darkness while you hold me up. I wanted to descend into the hole of hell to feel comfortable in the fire with you. All I wanted was you- in each stage of hell or life. I wanted you.
You see, thats why I think God gave me you. I think God gave me a test, and I'm still not sure if I passed or not.
Jun 25, 2015
Jun 25, 2015 at 2:26 PM UTC
I took Billy Collins to lunch with me today.
He kept me company, Horoscopes of the Dead
and new versions of Dante’s hellish sandwich.
My pasta was dry, but I ate it
between stanzas and between pages.
You walked in, backpack and all, at the top
of the stairs. I choked on some graded cheese,
because of the way you looked in your khakis.
I hate the taste of cucumbers but I would have
kissed you anyway. Even though,
I sometimes laugh a little too loud in the mornings
you still make sanctuaries out of my sheets,
covering us in a layer of polka dots,
craving each other’s skin, listening
the lullaby the ruffles of the duvet make.
And even though I sometimes know
that wanting you has its clumsy consequences,
I still lose my breath when you walk up
to the lunch line, or when you grab my face
with both hands, or when you say my name
backwards between sighs. Maybe Billy understands,
and maybe I can just stay a poet. Maybe,
you would look good on me. I’d love
to try you on. But I lost my breath
when you walked in this afternoon.
Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 10:50 PM UTC
Over the course of my tenure
I've noticed something about
These concrete walls and me.
Something's changed i n m e.
Over the course of these days
It has completely eaten away
My tongue . Cutting a w a y
Neatly and p a i n l e s s l y .
It even has a personality, I've
Nicknamed him C l e e t i s P.
However, instead of parasiti-
-zing my life. It u p - graded
Me. Replaced that uncouth T
Somewhat enlightened m e .
Above the soloists -no longer
"I" or "me"; but "us" and "we"
you see self-communality i n
"we". It's slimy-self now fun-
-ctions as o u r newest *****
A mouthpiece & a voicebox
It lives off of small drops o f
Blood from my tongue-stub
That won't ever, ever c l o t!
My business has a s e c r e t
I t s a y s t o m e :
Regardless of Earthly losses
Give y o u r everything to us
W e are your dearest bosses .
May 11, 2012
May 11, 2012 at 1:00 PM UTC
Don't tell me to get of my phone and play hopscotch in the wilting paddy fields across the house
the same paddy field that decorated the chest of every newspaper last Thursday, written across the title in bold; 6 year old girl strangled to death
don't tell me to get off my couch and try make some friends
the same friends that got my neighbour's daughter gangraped at her sixteenth birthday party
don't tell me to only fall in love with a person of the opposite gender,
not after hearing the screams of the lady across these cracked walls, whom as usual would make excuses to cover up the reasons behind the galaxy toned punch scars across her no longer smooth skin, a result of being beaten up by her drunk husband each night
don't tell me writing isn't going to get me anywhere, that only science will, not after you've seen me bleed across these pages trying to make you understand my passion and love for writing & trust me when I say these numbers & stupid scientific terms will never be able to diffuse into my numb skull the way these lovely letters have
don't tell me that the numbers written on one piece of paper that is graded by a person who probably had a million and one reasons to make me fail, defines my intelligence, not after looking at that girl from high school who failed her maths & ended up becoming a world renowned poet
don't tell me that it's right to hate a person because they were born a shade darker than I am, not after the person who saved my life that summer night I was sprawled across the bathroom floor, overdosed on drugs, was 'fifteen shades darker' than me
don't tell me that I don't have a right to stand up to you because I'm younger than you, not after a 50 year old man ***** his 12 year old student; in no way does your age define your maturity
and dear generation X & Y,
don't tell me what is wrong and right, for I am old enough to face the consequences of my actions, for there is no way I will learn without making mistakes,
and dear generation X & Y,
we'll show you how life should be lived.
Thank you, sit down.
Apr 15, 2015
Apr 15, 2015 at 5:29 AM UTC
do not feel the need to change your works/pieces because people on this site don't think you're up to par. I encourage all of you to keep writing
in whatever forms the words come to you. This is not high school or college. You are not being graded. Criticisms are welcome and considered but don't have to apply to your work if they don't fit in with how you think your poetry should be written.
Dec 7, 2014
Dec 7, 2014 at 2:37 PM UTC
Another Monday comes and goes
and with it brings a new set of woes.
More ******** assignments
and papers to write
about **** that I don't care about
but I'm forced to try.
Got my graded calc test
I scored a 68.
Because I don't care about your curves
or if the line is straight.
Teach me something useful
like how to be an adult.
Don't fill my head with nonsense
That I'll never use at all.
College is a joke.
Such a cleverly crafted scheme.
To get us to throw money at them
because we "need them to succeed."
But I grow tired of the ********
and I'm sick of your games.
Just give me my degree,
and I'll be on my way.
Feb 9, 2015
Feb 9, 2015 at 3:07 PM UTC
Here's the thing--
I don't like to lie.
So, if you asked me where I am from,
I'd have to assess you and your prejudices before announcing in a single breath --
"I am a Malayali from Bombay raised in Saudi Arabia."
My identity comes in as a triple threat.
And people treat me like an escaped convict
"Oh, how many burqas do you own?"
"Four, and they're still not enough to save me from your ridiculous questions."
I don't like to lie.
So, I'll tell you I've had a terrible day
and the best thing that happened to me today was lunch.
I will voluntarily admit that my feet hurt in those shoes
And I'd rather be at home.
But, my pen refused to stop writing.
I choose not to wrap my truths in acceptability
Because my identity does not need to be graded
(not like I deserve less than an A+)
I decided to let my bottom sit on a throne in my own mind
Rather than at the feet of self-proclaimed lords of the universe
I'll fix my sights on what's here today.
I'm a queen of my own will;
Of shoes that fit
and jeans that never will.
I am also confused and I write to confuse some more.
Maybe I'll just wrap myself in words
And hand myself over to you and say --
"Congrats! It's a story."
Dec 5, 2015
Dec 5, 2015 at 5:07 AM UTC
it may not look like it, but i am trying very hard.
you think i’m bad because i’m late to class even though
you don’t know why. look at my essays like you know
what grade they’re going to get, when you haven’t even
read them yet. you think because my quiz scores aren’t
perfect that i don’t understand.
but people have different capabilities;
maybe i’m not where i’m supposed to be,
and i need you to stop judging me for that.
all people ever see is how it looks like;
you’re never going to understand if you don’t try.
i haven’t slept right since school started, trying to solve
math problems which don’t seem to make sense. i read
the textbook before i was asked; did every single thing i
was supposed to. it’s crazy. it meant waking up at dawn
after sleeping at two in the morning.
you don’t know how it feels when your best is never
enough, and you have no idea how hard it is to keep
doing that, to keep trying anyway.
you don’t know how often we break.
i have learned to count myself strong, not because i win my
battles, but just because i face them.
we learn to compromise, sacrifice. i don’t have poems
in my head anymore (it’s a mess in there), and i don’t
have the energy to play sports. i don’t see my friends
except in the corridors, all in a rush to get somewhere.
we get no credit, and all the shame. our stories don’t
get told; they’re not the ones where people clap at the
end. we are neglected, felt sorry for, or hated. we are
spectacular at failing to amaze.
we have learned to cheer for ourselves because no one
else will. learned to act like it’s not a problem, that
coffee is your best friend, and you spend nights
studying, just to get lower scores than the rest of them.
tell yourself you’re not tired even when the minute you
start to rest you feel like you’re collapsing. always feel
like crying but you stop yourself; who cares if you’re
exhausted? you still have to finish those papers; you still
have to answer those tests.
what does any of it mean? why am i graded with a C or
a D? are they telling me i will not lead a good life, that i
am doomed already? my story has not started and no, my
fate will not be decided like this. you cannot pass
judgments on my character based on numbers on a paper.
i am more than all these requirements that never end. i
am the work i put into them. so instead of looking down on
me, let us carry ourselves with some dignity. after all, it’s not
a game; it’s not a race. we’re all stuck in the same place. and
the world is tough for everyone, regardless of our “grades.”
Oct 1, 2016
Oct 1, 2016 at 10:46 AM UTC