Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Effy Sky Feb 2014
I think it's crazy that they want me to type an essay over deforestation for a score or practice or to better my writing. That's 60 more minutes I'm wasting of my life. They say that sooner or later everything we do we will do with technology. So here I am now writing this essay that's supposed to be about deforestation and the effects and consequences. We are not discussing the issue. We are sitting in wooden chairs with our computers sitting on our wooden desks surrounded by wooden bookcases. So much irony right? I seem to be the only one to notice anyways.
We come here seven hours a day, do hours of homework, "study" the information, aka memorize regurgitate then forget all of it. This is not teaching us. We are not learning anything useful to help us live. It's all numbers and words that do not matter to me.
If anyone thinks that all us kids come to school to learn they're wrong and if they think that the teachers come to teach they're even more wrong. We come to pass class after class so we can leave and actually make something of ourselves. The teachers come because they have to for the money. They do not care about us or our feelings. They put all this pressure on us to be the best we can be which really means make a good grade.
I've been silent for so long now. Not expressing my feelings towards much of anything. Also toward the reason I have to wake up at five every morning to be around people I do not even like.
I feel as though the education system is unfair and cruel and does not take into consideration what the kids who go through this cycle everyday think.
So that's what I think about deforestation.
This is what I wrote on my writing assessment that was sent into the state. Many other students also wrote expressing their thoughts about the education system. This was a really big step for me to began and I hope others can relate.
Homage Kenneth Koch

If I were doing my Laundry I'd wash my ***** Iran
I'd throw in my United States, and pour on the Ivory Soap,
       scrub up Africa, put all the birds and elephants back in
       the jungle,
I'd wash the Amazon river and clean the oily Carib & Gulf of Mexico,
Rub that smog off the North Pole, wipe up all the pipelines in Alaska,
Rub a dub dub for Rocky Flats and Los Alamos, Flush that sparkly
       Cesium out of Love Canal
Rinse down the Acid Rain over the Parthenon & Sphinx, Drain the Sludge
       out of the Mediterranean basin & make it azure again,
Put some blueing back into the sky over the Rhine, bleach the little
       Clouds so snow return white as snow,
Cleanse the Hudson Thames & Neckar, Drain the Suds out of Lake Erie
Then I'd throw big Asia in one giant Load & wash out the blood &
       Agent Orange,
Dump the whole mess of Russia and China in the wringer, squeeze out
       the tattletail Gray of U.S. Central American police state,
       & put the planet in the drier & let it sit 20 minutes or an
       Aeon till it came out clean
Watching my phone,
Side by side with my homework.
Waiting,
for a response...
how am i suppose to kno
Anais Vionet Jul 2023
When I was little, my stepfather and I would be outside, coloring the driveway with chalk or throwing a frisbee and he’d stop and say, “I’m gonna go stir your mama up.”

He’d go in the house, coming out minutes later with my mom hot on his heels, waving her arms and haranguing his retreating back. She couldn’t see the big grin on his face as he approached me, “It’s good for her heart,” he’d say, chuckling and resuming whatever we were doing, “We’ve got to keep her on her toes.” He’s a master of dolorous mischief.

Flash forward to a cold, dark, Yale, winter evening in 2023. Peter and I are in the suite’s common room. Four dorm rooms share this ‘living room’ area but we’re alone, which was rare.

I’d been reading for about an hour and I was only half done. A chemistry PSet was next. I closed my Chinese language studies book and looked up. Peter was there, sitting on the floor, leaning back on the far end of the red corduroy couch where I was sitting. His long lanky frame was curled around the book he was reading, like an awkward python.

As I watched, he plucked a mint-chocolate milkshake off the white coffee table, bringing the straw to his lips without ever taking his eyes off his book. Homework, homework, homework.
I was bored and wanted a little attention, a little fun.

“Was I your first choice?” I asked him, as he noisily slurped at the last of his milkshake.
“First choice for what?” He asked.
“To be your girlfriend,” I clarified, emphasizing the last word.

He thought for a moment, “No, I had salty love-jones for Ivy Waters in second grade. Why?”
“I don’t know, It just occurred to me to ask,” I confided. “so, why did you choose me then?”
“Well,” he said, raising his eyebrows in all, fake sincerity, “you know all the best jokes,” and with that, he went back to his milkshake (argh!).

“I know, you’re finishing your doctorate,” I said, “but you could be a flight attendant!”
Peter stopped trying to stir the last of his milkshake into a slurpable lump and froze in thought. “It’s TRUE,” I continued, “Really - you need to be flexible in your planning. I read that most physicists slave away in povertude.”

“Povertude, huh?’ He said, and resumed his mint-chocolate work - his straw making a loud “ssssuuuuusssssskkkkkkkkkk,” empty-cup air-******* sound.
“AI isn’t going to replace **** flight attendants,” I offered, as my last argument in the matter.

After a moment he asked, “You really think I could carry it off?” Putting his palm on his hip and wiggling his shoulders in a provocative shimmy.

“I KNEW you’d leave me at the FIRST opportunity,” I said, turning sharply away, pretending to ignore him - the universal cap of girlfriends everywhere - with a condensed absence of attention that, I hoped, spoke unspoken things.

Setting his milkshake down, he gave me a lecherous smile, which made me giggle, and began crawling in my direction.

“Eeek!” I shrieked, laughing, as he climbed up on the couch, “I still have homework!”
BLT Marriam Webster word of the day challenge: Dolorous: "causing grief."

Slang…
PSet = problem set (homework).
salty = mad
love jones = crush
provertude = the state of lifelong poverty
cap = playful insult
Margaret May 2014
My school work has prevented
Me from being able to do
Any yoga lately
And I feel like crap

A long day of school over
Then volleyball. Piano lessons
Or voice lessons
Or a recital Or an audition or a festival
(Which I should be having fun with
But I don't because all I can think about
Is the work
I have afterwards.)
I finish late at night
Try to cram in some social medias
I go to bed wicked late.

Then no time to even be clean
Until today I swear I hadn't taken
A shower in at least 3 days

And in the morning
In so tired I can't even
Get ready on time and I'm late for school
Or miss the bus
Or have to Sprint to the bus

There's no time to do my yoga
Or anything else for that matter
Because of school
And it goes like this again
Everyday during the week...
Too much homework :-( tgif
Homework, thou art a most wearisome ghost
Who doth chivy and harry my frail bones
To their shatterment, to amuse the host
But I shall not delight them with great tones
Of fear and agony, nay; with homework,
I shall blast the fearsome foundation flat
And though my heart bids me to papers shirk,
Quiet strength am I, and never fearing
What mere letter or stroke may do to me
For I have but one desire: to learn
And to become the best that I can be
While for homework no sense I yet discern.
What shall tear me down from where I now stand?
Only homework, which I cannot remand.
Emma Liang Mar 2012
I bounce a volleyball as I walk to my dorm
just to hear that delightful sound, that satisfying, clean thud off the cement.

look up, see you in that grey hoodie that gives me bad dreams
and curse under my breath, eyes darting like a cornered fox,
            there is nowhere to hide.
we almost exchange eye contact, I almost taste blood in my mouth
            I hate how familiar you are.
you look down, cough;
I murmur a dusty hello-goodbye into the ground, hold my volleyball tighter
against my chest –
and hurry on, court sneakers straining on the pavement, trying too hard to forget your cracked smiles.

--

I remember how we used to pass for hours
no sound but the volleyball slapping against our forearms,
brushing off our fingertips,
echoing through that Choate gymnasium, that cold spring;

My head had barely reached the middle of the net,
but you were tall and brave and handsome, my Prince Charming, and
I was a freshman girl with her heart on her sleeve, who
hugged a warm volleyball to her heart and smiled,

thinking herself lucky.

--

Spring thawed your heart, eventually,
and you let me hold your hand;
you had long fingers, cold to the touch.
you taught me how to set, complimented my hands,
trained me to cradle the ball with my thumbs like it was made of glass,
your hands around mine.

I was braver than you were,
because everything felt fresh and exciting to me, like the
smell of crushed pine needles in the air;
you kissed me (I kissed you?) on that night
and I leaned forward, curious and eager, and wrapped my arms
around your neck.

--

The days melted into one another,
and we became
like chalk drawings blurring after rain,
like floor burns from sliding to save a falling ball –
but missing it, all the effort gone to waste;
the burns will still burn and still scar, for nothing.

May to June, June to July,
I hugged you and laughed, but my eyes
were cold; you said I love you
And I tried to say it back, but I couldn’t without
sticking a used to before the love –
            the honey words stuck in my throat.

Our kisses were routine, stale
like the crackers I left out the night before;
I tapped my foot and
tossed the volleyball quickly behind my back with nimble fingers
and counted the seconds before it was acceptable to pull back;
I had homework and volleyball practice and quizzes to study for, you know – I tried to smile but
it felt so wrong, I stopped –
you asked what was wrong, I shook my head, there are no answers for some questions.

--

It’s been four years since we’ve spoken,
shared secret moments under solemn oak trees, behind library bookshelves
that promised to keep us away from prying eyes,
smiled into each other’s lips,
blinked stories into each other’s eyes.
It’s been four years since people have teased you for not
hitting the ball when we passed – you gentleman, you –

I will not say I miss you, because I refuse to lie for your sake;
but sometimes as I set a ball perfectly to a hitter
I think of you for a split second, wonder where you are and if you remember as much
as I do, which is, honestly
not very much.

--

she writes letters to him and then burns them all, the smell of smoke fills the room.
It’s as if she is stealing the fury of the sun, which is cooling down, melting into lava at the horizon –
it will be another cold winter, there is already frost in the grass, the air smells chilly.

Dear you,

I broke up with you as nicely as I could –
there was no reason I fell out of love, the same way
there is no reason people fall in love.

you have no right ******* me out on the internet the way you did.
Every time I hit a volleyball I imagine your face on my palm, and I hit harder.
I will never forgive you for the things you wrote,
and I don’t know if I ever loved you at all,
because you are despicable.

Goodbye,
the girl of your dreams.


--

it’s the beginning of the end of July, everything is so hot.
the pavement is baking, the volleyballs are flat,
her arms feel weak and limp like overcooked noodles.

it’s hard to think straight. She can hardly remember
her own name before remembering that she has a boyfriend.
He calls, he says I love you and she tries to choke out that well-rehearsed lie –
what was it again? something like I love you too?

But it’s too hot, and she
can’t do it anymore –

she swallows hard and grips her volleyball tighter,
her hands sweating against the weathered sphere that has been through so much with her
as she prepares to say goodbye.
Sarah May 2014
I hope that you believe me,
for I wouldn’t tell a lie.
I cannot turn my science homework in
and this is why:
I messed up the assignment
that you gave us yesterday.
It burbled from its test tube
and went slithering away.
It wriggled off the table,
and it landed with a splat,
convulsed across my bedroom floor
and terrorized the cat.
It shambled down the staircase
with a horrid glorping noise.
It wobbled to the family room
and gobbled all my toys.
It tumbled to the kitchen
and digested every plate.
That slimy blob enlarged
with every item that it ate.
It writhed around the living room
digesting lamps and chairs,
then snuck up on our napping dog
and caught him unawares.
I came to school upset today.
My head’s in such a fog.
But this is my excuse:
You see, my homework ate my dog.
anonymous Nov 2015
I can’t listen.
My mind is a prison.
Tears fall down my cheek.

My confidence weak.
No appetite to eat.
Thoughts race and prevent me from sleep.

Bags under my eyes.
Whats that in the sky?
They tell me its just a phase.

ADD isn’t real.
Why is this such a big deal?
Little do they know it ruins my days.

Can’t focus in class.
Teachers think its a load of crap.
No one understands that this isn’t okay.

I try so hard.
I studied all night!
But I always seem to fail.

Look at my medication.
Look up the facts.
When will they realize ADHD is real.

Reality and daydreams.
Which one is real?
Which is more important;
The lesson in class, or the color of my nails?

My confidence; frail
My complexion; pale
My mind?
A jail.

But I put on a smile.
Make life seem worthwhile.
Because once in a while I can finish a task.

But pretending i’m fine.
Missing homework deadlines.
It’s like i’m hiding myself with a mask.

Don’t get me wrong.
Some people have it worse.
At least I have a roof over my head.

Although i’ve cried.
I’ve never considered suicide.
But others wish to be dead.

So treat me with respect.
Break the stigma.
And educate yourself.

ADHD is real.
It’s an unfair deal.
So you can choose to understand mental health.

I don’t have enough focus to listen.
And thats what your missing.
This is not a choice, this is something I dread.

So next time you judge me.
Next time you label me.
Remember, some with ADHD wish to be dead.
Revi Abari Mar 2015
Not enough sleep
Forget to eat
Hide under your sheets
The Cuts to deep

Go to school tardy
Homework forgot it
Teachers are fed up
**** forgot to pay attention
Feelings of inadequacy like a cancer in my body
Lunch comes around sorry  but I’m not hungry
And even if I was there’s no one to sit with

Writing poetry hoping someone will listen
To the broken record that is my voice
Hopefully someone will hear me before I lose all hope
Emily Jan 2016
The girl who would rather spend her Friday night at home organizing her room than at the parties.
The girl who would rather curl up and read at lunch than sit and socialize over talk of nothing but "people".
The girl who would rather drown out the world with music than sit in class and be involved.
The girl who would rather work alone and finish her homework in class, than sit in the big social groups making weekend plans.
The girl who would rather be independent and be judged as a loner than be friends with people who will secretly judge you.
The girl who would rather collect books and records than makeup.
The girl who would rather study astrology than watch every show on Netflix.
The girl who would rather thrift shop and buy $3.99 boots than buy top of the line $80 boots.
The girl who realizes that all of this does not make her any better than them.
The girl that realizes she is only trying to impress herself; confidence is key.
Icarus Fray Jan 2018
being a good student is always one of the reasons

being a good student is one of the reasons why im a really inconsiderate friend, apparently
because i dont share my answers
because i dont break the rules
and because i dont hate going to school
i just dont have the heart to tell them that school is actually my quiet
that school is my rest from life
that school is my escape
that this is how it was

being a good student is one of the reasons why im an unreliable brother, it seems
because i dont tend to their needs when im home
because i dont help them with their homework
and because i dont have any time left for them bec im focusing on my studies
i just dont think they'll want to hear that im not doing any of it for them because no one did those for me
that no one made me dinner at age 13
that no one ever taught me how to answer my homework
that this is how it was

being a good student is one of the reasons why im a irresponsible son, i believe
because i dont ever want go to family outings
because i dont prioritize them over school meetings
and because im barely home from sleeping over my classmates' houses just to finish a ******* output
i just dont think he'd appreciate me telling him i never felt like a part of that family
that i never felt like he'd prioritize me over anything
that i never once felt like coming back to this house was the same as coming back home
that this is how it was

that this is how it is
that im so sick of everyone saying im
an inconsiderate friend
or an unreliable brother
specially an irresponsible son

so if the only thing im good at are quizzes and projects and tests and deadlines

then i sure as hell am gonna keep at it
college makes everything a lot more dramatic
gray rain Jul 2016
Two days of school missed
I can't catchup on Spanish
my homework, I just can't do it
there's too many words for my head to fit
'food' was covered in year 7 and it's year 10 now
I don't remember any vocab, I don't know how
I guess the blanks, they're probably wrong
my knowledge of food and drink in Spanish is not so strong
I pick up my pen and try not to cheat
(use Google translate for help) although the translation's in the sheet
and I want to go to sleep
and wake up the beginning of next week (more like tomorrow or Monday morning)
I'll copy my friends they're in the same class
I'll get a few wrong it's not like there's anything to pass
or I could tell my teacher I don't understand much and stay behind after school
but I don't have time for that and it doesn't sound all that cool
she said I might not get it all 'do as much as you can'
so maybe I wouldn't have to stay behind if I said 'I don't understand'
It's only homework I can catch up on what I missed
but it's kinda difficult when I barely know Spanish
My teacher gave me homework in Spanish
and I missed my lessons when I was in Wimbledon so am stuck on what to do so I made my thoughts rhyme and shared this pointlessness with you.
Elijah Sep 2016
Take me back to the 90’s -
where we cared less, but loved more.
here, we’re glorified for our past -
where we went out and played Real Games, OUTSIDE.
before the time flew by,
before the new millennium crept in while we were sleeping;
altering the basis of what tender, love, and care really was.

We grew up with very little household rules.
because we understood the consequences that would ensue had we not followed the ones that were already in place.
society had rules. and still do, to this day.
we grew up embellished in love -
no matter the race,
no matter straight, or gay.
we grew up knowing, never to judge.

TV actually taught us things.
cartoons where we’d learn math, or English in the songs we sang.
late nights risking it all because we were supposed to be in be,
but “All That” came on and all that mattered was that we watch the latest episode.

We didn’t have twitter.
We didn’t have facebook, who was mark?
Myspace wasn’t even in its beginning stages.
snapchat didn't even have a place to start.
instead, we might’ve had AIM.
or, we might’ve borrowed our parents’ usernames.

We never knew what X-box was,
playstation 1 was just starting to blossom.
Nintendo was our heart,
sad now it’s like - fossils.
and computer games ruled/
of course, after - our homework was done;
or maybe we used computer games to help with our homework.
numbers munchers, word munchers, math blaster;
teachers lasted. because we loved them,
they knew what we wanted without even asking.
they made things happen...
school was more than boring lectures,
recess was a thing.
like, 30 to 40 minutes of “play time”, to give rest to our brains...

90’s movies:
- “The Hackers”
-”Disclosure”
-”Enemy Of State.” was life.
-”Space Jam.” ...
OH, SPACE JAM. how badly I wanted to be Like Mike!
everyday, trying to brush up on my skills -
sadly, they’d never take flight.
but, as a 90’s kid, imagination was like 90 percent of our life.
“Dream it, Wish it, Do it.”
Be, IT!

Be, It!
hide and seek, how I never wanted to.
had to make yourselves practically invisible for ten minutes max;
or just long enough to catch a break and make a dash for base.
TAG! you’re it.
if you couldn't quite make it.
catch me if you can...
Ahh, games we played as kids.
make you wanna be there again.

90’s. Friends.
Savage like Ben,
But Strong Riders.
Every boy wanted a girl like Topanga. she was strong, and a rider.
we was learning life through the lifestyle of “boy meets world.”
Just so like, we could be ready -
when the boy meets world,
and then boy meets girl,
and girl have kid,
and the kid grows up -
And in the world he lives...

In the world he lives...

This world,
the current one.
the one the hosts our once great nation.
the one that is smoke and mirrors.
the one that was meant to be a great creation.
yet somehow, somewhere, we’ve all changed the meaning of our existence to chastising and hating, each other.

Hating each other.
got me constantly questioning, “Where Is The Love?”
freedom is not free.
the cost is actually more expensive now.
bodies fall on average, about every 3 months.
Whites **** blacks , but blacks also, **** us.
and All Lives Matter -
I'm not sure why they only chant that black ones do,
if they only say black lives matter when a white man shoots...

Take me back to the 90’s.
where things weren't as bad.
Take me back to the 90’s.
where I was young and,
less sad.

Take me back to the 90’s;
we’re having fun meant having fun.
take me back to the 90’s;
where disagreeing with someone, didn't mean you grab a gun.

Take me back to the 90’s;
the perfect era to raise kids in...
Take me back to the 90’s;
at least there,
the world SEEMED innocent.

-Lij
Kaitlin Collide Apr 2016
Oh, hello..
I ask Motivation to ravage me
So **** and out of reach
I wonder if he’ll notice me

Hey, Motivation.
Do I look **** with this Adderall?
When I dress like an adult?
When I spread my books wide open?

When I arch my back right out of bed
Does it make you want me?
Motivation, get out of my head!
I’m kidding... I like it when you taunt me.

When I think of you
I salivate
Look out my window,
watch you all day
You look so ****
that special way
You work those other students.

I’ll bite my lip and I’ll slowly crawl
Right to class, backpack and all
My eyes intense with innocence
Please don’t take your eyes off me.

Motivation, you know just what I like
When you make my grade point average rise
Look, Daddy-- my schedules so tight
But I still manage to squeeze in several hours to write

Oh Daddy…
Can I play with your friends?
Maturity, and Ambition?
I’m a spoiled brat but I’ll listen

Tie me up so I can’t deny you
Tell me “I’m gonna be inside you”
Please, Motivation I want to ride you
Have your friends watch…

After that, you can tell them to join in
So collegiate it must be a sin
I’m a ****** to this sort of thing
I guess I’ll take off my immaturity ring

For all you guys I’ll be so special
Fill my head with names until I go mental
Like “hardworking” and “determined”
Until I’m submissive to school and working.

Now let’s pretend
That I’m the student
I’ll call you sir,
Please don’t be prudent
Here’s my homework
Make me do it.

Mr. Motivation….

You know whats *****?
My bedroom floor.
Here I’ll  bend over
And clean it more.

My goodness, this isn’t like me!
I’m married! Don’t you see?
This is merely fantasy!
I’m incapable of priorities!

…When it’s against to whom I’m wed.

For now I’ll ride my washing machine
I’m faking that I am with thee
But this isn’t homework and my room’s not clean
I am just a bored wife of Apathy.
Mimi Aug 2012
The homework assignment was particularly hard
you never clarify what it is that you want.

I wanted to dance with you in the ***** of a dark hill
in my drop-dead dress.
LOCKER DOORS

Woke this morning, I argued with my mother
Hating the snow days, stay under the covers

Gathered up my backpack, headed to the car
Did not do my homework, schools not too far

Dreading the normal bullies, homeroom fights
Walking in a hallway, standing in the lunch line

Friends text behind your back, liars of all types
Money is stolen, cheerleaders get more hyped

Ordinary day, ******* waste of my **** time
Pencils sharpening, I'm out of my **** mind!

I watch these girls, sick of stupid *** fashion!
Wish something new or exciting would happen!

Sitting in first period, Having my first period
Feeling like Carrie, blood stains get very wet

Listening to the teacher talk about due things
While hiding the fact that my ****** is puking

Then all of a sudden, a loud bang was heard
Followed by a females scream, kinda absurd

Who is now screaming and for what reason?
Is this a joke? Is someone out there teasing?

But then this loud bang is heard again closer
Students start running toward the commotion

The metal door slams open, a figure appears
He's holding a shotgun, he looks like a queer

His eyes hold fire of intense pain and anguish
Hands grip the gun, this is some insane ****

Nobody is moving as he breathes in and out
Then he unloads the gun into a friends mouth

Then as if in slow motion, her face erupted
I had to get out of this classroom, **** this!

The gun goes off again with disgusting results
Another female student lies dead with a hole

Make a run for a door, while his back's turned
The gun is so loud, every one here has heard

Students running every which way in the hall
Tripping over two dead kids, first two to fall

I run over to see if I recognize the deceased
Yes! I know one well! Her nickname was Beast

She was a goth kid, known for being so silent
She kept to herself, now killed due to violence

No time for sorrow, as I go through her purse
The students are screaming as they disperse

Lip stick and the works! This ***** was a fake
Toss the **** aside, hope all her stuff breaks!

I look in the hall, a gunman's coming this way
Now running down the hall, death in his wake

I get back up trying to make sense of this ****
Two gun shots ring out, another student is hit

My eyes make contact with the killer at large
Cold stares meets mine, he remains in charge

I look away, back up the hall towards safety
The teachers board room will still open daily

Maybe I could hide under a table or chair?
It would pass but would he know I was there?

He doesn't know me! Right? I'm too scared
As ***** flows freely down my legs, now bare

Kids panicking as the blood stains the doors
Dead bodies now litter this once clean floor

I take to these stairs and I continue up flights
Should I go down to the garage for the night?

That couldn’t be right! I need to get to the top
But my name's is called, I turn back and stop

The man with the gun is standing behind me
Wants me to lay down, I don’t plan on fighting

I am humbly abiding by his every command
He simply asks me this single question then

He proceeds to ask if I believe in God or not
Most likely, no matter what, I'n gonna be shot

This is the last chance I’ve got to be someone
Go out with a bang, a literal one from his gun

I hear students cry, I watch the carnage unfold
Tears of the ungrateful, the sad rotting of souls

Flesh falls from the mold, the world has failed
Me in the moment, a stupid girl once labeled

Known for lack of faith and love of blasphemy
Now face to face, asked one more task of me

Should I deny a God I hated to acknowledge?
Or continue strong to the end? End of all this

Never going to college never felt so disgusting
I didn't know this kid! Did he know something?

Just then he turns the gun, shooting kids dead
Turns back to me, he is so serious, he says

I look to see a kids head now blown to pieces
God forgive this sad *******, help him Jesus!

I scream out so that the world can hear me!
The Lord is my savior! He is forever near me!

That's my last moment as the trigger is pulled
As my hopes and dreams are fully annulled

Just an ordinary day in a quiet Colorado town
Death won as the gunman took himself down

Just an ordinary day for the parents of teens
Just ordinary funerals and ordinary screams

Common place or out of place? Who knows
From schools to movie theaters, gun control?

Hug children, keep them happy and laughing
Never know when “ordinary days” will happen

Adam Koss/ January 5, 2014
A powerful reminder that school shootings are very real.
silentwoods Aug 2018
Two years into adulting.
It’s possible, who knew?
I look the same as yesterday
But today I’m twenty two!

Dentist trips still freak me out,
Sometimes I burn an egg.
My blanket covers both my feet,
So monsters won’t grab my leg.

I don’t go out on Friday night,
My ankles feel the weather.
And when I help the kids with homework,
We both learn math together.

Sometimes I’ll burst out crying
For no reason at all.
I know the words to one rap song,
And still prefer guys tall.

My puns are all intended,
There is a spoon I hate,
I’ll never mix my whites and brights,
I can’t stay up too late.

My life has been a wild ride
But I’m thankful for each day.
One day I hope to be mature,
One day... but not today.
Serendipity Feb 2019
Homework is inspiration,
written in secretly,
between the lines of due dates,
and boredom.

Listening to music,
whilst studying a sad song,
is my favorite pastime.

Melodies written in poetic prose,
I find them stashed between notecards
of memories I haven't organized.

A folder filled with expressive mathematics,
hides the secret of
a hidden prompt.


And somewhere along those empty desks,
and tattered mess,




I find myself, haunting the hallways of the hollows in my mind...

































once more.



Truly, boredom is the true inspiration, for without it, we would not be motivated to find one.
JM Romig Dec 2009
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.
Copyright © 2009 J.M. Romig. All rights reserved.
Revi Abari Mar 2015
Not enough sleep
Forget to eat
Hide under your sheets
The Cuts to deep

Go to school ,tardy again
Homework forgot it
Teachers are fed up
**** forgot to pay attention
Feelings of inadequacy like a cancer in my body
Lunch comes around sorry  but I’m not hungry
And even if I was there’s no one to sit with

Writing poetry hoping someone will listen
To the broken record that is my voice
Hopefully someone will hear me before I lose all hope

Im so sick of the stress feeling like im about to explode
Finally rest my head , I hope I die in my sleep
Avery Glows Jul 2014
Paperworks and all the lessons
Sharpened my mind to behold
more and more of that useless knowledge
We would probably never use.

Tests are bad enough.
Marks at the corner teach
us nothing but jealousy.
The adults compare and
judge as much as they want to
And screamed and shouted
cried and muttered.

Exams are anything but better.
You got stuck in a room
Imprisoned
by the tension.
Suffocated
by the
hot headed determination
to strive for the stars.
Inhumanly high.
This isn't hollywood movies
Nothing like the literature essays
'how do we create tension'
the subjects
hold your fate
but you did once told yourself
'I have no life'

So what are we doing here?
Wasting our days
on something so terribly useless.
Insignificant lectures when we know
Accountants hated maths.
Doctors hated biology.
but they are who they are because of
good results.
They will realize
no teachers like marking
stupid homework.
They hate the red crosses
And so do we.
Exams doesn't teach us
how to be a good person.
how to cope with beasty bullies..
how to survive
on our own.
It doesn't show any real talents
nor your low (high) IQ
It's just a pain in the ****
You have to deal with before
you became wrinkled, grey
fuzzy and old.
Sorry for the length...I couldn't stop.
Victoria Ruth May 2014
Not quite sure yet
What I want to be
But so much pressure
Just to get my degree

I’m young and free
Even crazy and wild
Don’t you even dare
To treat me like a child

Though I can’t help but think
Where will I be in 10 years?
Will I finally have courage,
to face my worst fears?

Will I still have my boyfriend,
who I’ve been with?
Do high school sweethearts
exist, or is that just a myth?

Should I go get drunk,
this weekend with my friends?
I got invited to another party
The fun never ends

Wait I’m kind of insecure
About my body and weight
Why am I still awake?
It’s getting pretty late

Yet I still haven’t started
Any of my homework
Who cares anyway though
I mean my teacher’s a ****

I’m under so much pressure
Because I’ve got to graduate
But you try being a teenager
In a world filled with hate

Overthinking killed the teenager
And that teenager is I
Overthinking every thought
And I don’t know *why
"Teenagers"-People who are treated like children but expected to act like adults.
Mateuš Conrad Aug 2017
randomly switched on the t.v. after a nap,
tuned in on channel 4's four part drama;
what was it?
    the state, all about four britons travelling
to the "caliphate" state of shram, shrem
sham-boco-boco... daesh, the levant...
**** me, that really enriches my vocabulary...
what's it actually called, mind you?

the conversation went like this:
- what you watching?
- homework.
- homework?
- yep, homework,
better mind these camel jockeys
should they feel like making a runner:
or faking a bang bang as
they make anatomy
made simple; i always felt they were
         bad at stuttering, given the B;
******* are genius when it comes
to anatomy though...
  a body "dissected" in a matter of
fractions of a second: even by standards
of concern: that deserves an encore of
applause.
boom! hey presto! plop's your uncle;
couldn't have asked for a better
pizza topping: so? go along with
the prop plot: shmile and shay... cheese!
grinning that ugly ****-face
into the camera, don't worry, you won't
be charged morally... just with
an irony currency: huh?
you basically get *****-slapped 72 times
in jannah, o.k.?

n'ah, i'm not in it for the *****,
listen, i managed to get two disgruntled
english girls home in the middle
of the night, when i still had a mobile phone,
managing to pet a black cat meanwhile,
walking out of the darkness of a public
park over a fence, rolling a cigarette
for one of them, texting her mom,
checking out her rack,
texting her friend (semi-unconscious)
at a bus-stop, taking my shirt off,
putting it on her, flicking her baseball cap
and saying to her tear-****** eyes:
it's going to be o.k.;

i'm not a hero, but i'm certainly not
a cologne oops-e!

mind you, her dad managed to pick
the two up from the collier row roundabout;
am i noticed?
  now, was adolf ****** ever an artist?
no! so... what's the question?

better know who you're being ****** by
than pretending to be dumb and innocent
at a post-scriptum of a terror attack,
lighting candles and faking vigil,
no?
just asking, worth the question...
mind you, what was i watching today
oink channel 4?
   *the state
...
what's that?

i already said! it's homework!
happiness...is everything. Happiness isnt based on money and sometimes not even on what you're doing. Its about who your with.
its about living with no regrets
And realising that a bad thing will last a few months, so who cares if he doesnt ask you out? who cares what your parents catch doing with the one who does? and who cares what anyone says about you.
Happiness is taking a risk
and it pays off
and even if it doesnt
another oppurtunity presents itself.
happiness is staying up all night with your frends.
happiness is water fights on late summer evenings.
happiness is love....lust only gives moments of happiness to the fact you cant believe you have that person...love leaves you eternally in wonder of how you ended up feeling so right.
happiness is being with your friends and wearing crazy *** hats in public
happiness is seeing a familiar face in nevr ending sea of lies.
happiness is no homework
happiness is having tickle fights with the one you love
happiness is lying in the sun looking at the clouds
happiness is doing wat you want to do
happiness is helping one another
happiness if giving all of you no matter how much you recieve in return
happiness is being able to speak your mind
happiness is knowing you have earnt all the praise you get and being able to say thank you...not going red, studying your shoelaces and bringing yourself down
happiness is confidence
happiness is working hard for something
happiness is being wateva you want and not caring what anyone says...you only get to live once..you will nevr live it down if you're on your deathbed and you realise that you've spent your whole life being what everyone else wanted you to be. living a lie
happiness is finding out who you are
happiness is coming home and your parents ask you how your day was...evn if u jst grunt back
happiness is singing in the shower as loud as you can...i mean showers hav that magical power that means no-one else can hear you...rite?
happiness is not being afraid to say someone is hot...it makes u all giggly...saying someone is good looking doesnt neccessarily mean you want them
happiness is feeling safe
happiness is feeling wanted
happiness is feeling at peace with yourself
happiness is feeling that someone always has your back
happiness is when something isnt funny..but your so happy to see someone that u cant stop smiling
happiness is that one thing you can nevr really express to someone...its like a drug, it makes you do crazy things...its make you feel ontop of the world.
this made me happy knowing that peopl will read this and feel happy
it made me happy because i made a good attempt to describe something that can nevr be completely decribed.

happiness is the one thing that keeps you going when you're like the single flowers whose colours hav turned to shades of grey

i cant explain this happiness
Alexa Sz Jan 2011
Morning

the alarm goes off
I wake up
I turn it off
I go back to sleep
My mom or dad comes in
they wake me back up
I lie in bed
for 10 more minutes
then I get up
I go to the bathroom
and stare at myself in the mirror
I sigh...
I pretend to wash my face
I go back to my room
I stare at my closet
and decide what I'm going to wear
I get dressed
I go down stairs
I eat one of the following items:
oat meal
   -Chocolate chip
   -Maple brown sugar
   -apple cinnamon
Whole wheat bagel with almond butter, peanut butter, cinnamon, and/or jam
cereal if there are any good options
   -Peanut butter bumpers
   -GOOD granola
   -organic chocolate *****
with coconut milk
toast with the same things as bagels
I say good morning to parents
I argue with my sister
I drink my orange juice
eat my vitamins
bring my stuff up to the sink
go up stairs
I lie on my bed
I go into the bathroom
I brush my teeth
I go downstairs
I pack my backpack
I pick out some shoes
I yawn
I go to school

School
I go to advisory
We play cake(a game)
First class
I space out
I draw pictures
unless that class is of the following:
PE
Writing lab (if it's not about grammer or spelling)
Art
Music(Because all the string instruments make it impossible)
I go to math
I get too confused to know what the hell is going on
I go to writing lab
we write and then teacher goes into some speech about commas
I go to french
I have no idea what the teachers talking about
I go to PE
If we aren't playing soccer, basketball, dodgeball, batmitten, capture the flag, or volleyball than I ****

Lunch
Yay!
I eat
I talk
I chill

More classes
Art
I tell my teacher how much I love her outfit
I read the board
and I make art

Music
UGHHHH
THE TEACHER IS SUCH A GRUMP!!!
I listen to her yell at people
I play my instrument

Study

Almost done with school
I finish a bit of homework

Going home (Or going nordic skiing)

I get a snack
I do homework
I have dinner with the family
I do more homework
I get ready for bed
I read
I go to bed

Every day is the same
the weekend is just a bunch of chores
hanging with friends some times
and stay up late watching my favorite shows:
Bones
Glee
CSI NY
CONAN
SNL

Ugh I need a change.
Jackie Mead Dec 2017
Prince Simon, Prince Jason and Princess Sophie lived a regal life.

Slaying dragons and battling witches by day, monsters and zombies by night.

Each day brought adventures new, trips on boats and to the zoo.

One particular day when feeling bored, Prince Simon decided to explore.

Down to the basement, he slowly sneaked, quietly to take a peek.  New adventures he did seek.  
Simon decided to explore.
A rickety old wardrobe he did find and suddenly an adventure sprang to mind

Searching in the wardrobe what do you think he found…

“Come on Prince Jason, Princess Sophie too, come into the wardrobe and look what I have found
A snow globe, all beautiful and round”, “shake it Princess Sophie what do you see a festive setting with us three.”

Climb into the wardrobe pull your dress in tight, we are about to take flight.
Into the wardrobe all three did climb, and soon the wardrobe started to rock and shake, getting higher and higher and faster and faster it suddenly left the ground.

“Where are we going” shouted Princess Sophie, “destination unknown” said Prince Simon, “no change of clothes” Prince Jason asked, “not this time” said Prince Simon, “we are fine as we are, I’m not sure if were going that far”.

Soon enough the trip had ended, and the wardrobe landed on the floor, Prince Simon, Prince Jason & Princess Sophie opened the door and set off to explore.

This new land they had found, had lots of white snow all over the ground and white snow in all the trees.
Prince Simon, Prince Jason and Princess Sophie fell to their knees, delighted to see such a lot of snow they started to make snowballs and began to throw them at each other, laughing and wheezing with delight, they took aim and threw with all their might.
30mins later and wet through they weren’t sure where they had landed or what they had come to do.

They began to start looking around when on the floor Prince Jason found some footprints that looked quite small, not as big as horse or as small as a mouse, Prince Jason thought they belonged to a reindeer, all three of them began to cheer.

They set off following the small footprints until they found themselves on top of a small hill looking down the hill they could see a Fairyland Grotto, sparkling and white a sheer picture of pure delight.
They looked around to see if they could find a map, which would show where all the stalls were at.

Princess Sophie was the first to shout, “let’s take a tumble down the hill and check under the mat of the first Chalet to see if that is where the map is at”

All three agreed and tumbling to their bellies did roly poly down the hill, the first to come to a standstill was Prince Simon who looked under the mat and found the map was exactly where they'd thought it was at.

Prince Simon, Prince Jason and Princess Sophie looked excitedly, the very first stop was at the Toy Factory.

Situated to their left they entered the doors very slowly, then took a deep breath as they did see hundreds of Elves making toys in all their glory.
Working hard to make toys of wood and of metal too, from board games to cars, puzzles to bikes the Princes and Princess could not believe their eyes.
The Elves were working very fast and all the toys they made were sure to last.
The Elves were delighted to have company and agreed to stop and have a cup of tea, with all three.
Cups of tea and plates of cakes, mince pies and scones were soon assembled, and hurriedly eaten. The children were delighted to be having tea with the Elves, couldn’t help themselves but ask, do you know if we three are on the Good List or the Naughty?

Ha! Ha! Said the Elves wouldn’t you like to know but we still have several weeks to go.
It isn’t until the last minute the decision is made, so Santa asks that you are good all year round and not just today.

Once tea was over the Elves did say that they could move on to the next stop which was to groom the reindeers, feed them too and clean the stable of their smelly poo.

The children laughed and giggled they really were excited they exited the Toy Factory and went next door, the reindeers were in a stable and the children started to explore.
They were joined by the Head Groomsman a very elderly Elf who had a long white beard, moustache and hair and a pointed hat upon his head.

Prince Jason asked the Groomsman if they “could feed the reindeers please?” Princess Sophie was so excited she started to shout and wheeze “Please Mr Groomsman, Please?” “Can we feed the reindeer a carrot and some milk too? I don’t mind if I have to clean up his smelly poo”

Prince Jason and Prince Simon were not too sure and began to walk backwards towards the door, ready to make their escape should it occur that they had to clean the stables for the reindeers.

Mr Groomsman began to laugh, his belly began to shake, “it is OK young children please come in, you can feed the reindeers a carrot and milk, then brush them clean, you don’t need to clean up anything else, that is the work of the younger Elves”

The children were delighted and ran into the stables, first the Head Groomsman gave them a brush and showed them how to groom.
Next the children gave each of the reindeer a carrot and saucer of milk, smoothed the reindeer some more then the Head Groomsman said, “I hear that the three of you are expected next door, where Santa awaits to hear your list, don’t keep him waiting you do not want to miss the chance to speak” “Today will be the last day for a while, as he is working hard to bring a smile to every child’s face on Christmas Day”.

“A few rules before you go:
“Talk quietly and real slow, if you talk too fast or begin to shout you will not make sense and then you may miss out.
“Ask for Toys or Books or sweets, maybe socks for your feet but do not ask to solve world peace, Santa is always working on this, but it is very hard as you can imagine and takes more than one person.”
Ask for things for your mummy and daddy, your brother and sister, thinking of others is a good trait and will please Santa, now run along be good children and don't be late”
One last thing before you go Rudolph is looking forward to meeting you today, but his Red Nose is poorly and won’t come out to play, so please don’t tease or laugh or wheeze when Rudolph Nose does not come shiny and bright “

The children promised the Head Groomsman they would behave, said farewell and went on their way.

Next door to the Stable Hut resided Santa’s hut before they knocked on the door Prince Simon looked at Prince Jason and Princess Sophie and began to implore “let’s think about what we are going to ask, we don’t want to fail this task”

The three children stopped and put their heads together and slowly they began to say which each thought would be a nice surprise for their Parents to open on Christmas Day.

Prince Simon said, “for Mummy that’s easy she likes dressing up a new scarf and gloves to match her coat”
Prince Jason declared “for Daddy a book or cd for the car”
Princes Sophie sighed and said, “for Granny and Nanny a new duvet for their beds”

All three agreed it was a good list, Prince Simon stepped up to knock on the door.
Slowly the door opened and revealed the room inside. Santa was sat on a chair with Rudolph by his side.
“Welcome, welcome, children” Santa cried, “come in, come in don’t be shy, don't stand there  it’s awfully cold outside”.
The children entered and dutifully closed the door, waiting patiently for Santa to speak.
Santa called them by their names and asked if they had a special gift they would like on Christmas day.  
The children became quite shy and uncertain what to say.
Again, Prince Simon, Prince Jason and Princess Sophie put their heads together to agree what would be best when Santa laughed and said, “I was only putting you to the test”
Of course, I know what each of you would like but it depends on whether you’ve been Good or Bad
The children started to pull a face and looked very Sad, they weren’t sure if they had behaved well enough throughout the year.

Santa decided to put them out of their misery turned to each of them and said:

Prince Simon – you have attended school every day you could, you’ve completed your Maths Homework, made a book rack out of wood and in addition your Teacher has been pleased to say that you are cheerful every day.  

Prince Jason – you too have attended school every day that you could, you’ve excelled in English and Sports.
Your Teacher is delighted to have you in her class and you can easily cheer everyone up with one of your hearty laughs.

Princess Sophie – finally you have attended school every day excel in English and Ballet
Your Teacher is happy to have you in her class and trusts you to help new pupils orient their way around the school on their first day.

These are very good reports, but we give the final say to your Parents, so let’s see what they have to say:

Prince Simon – our eldest son makes us very proud he studies heartily and never is too loud.  
He looks after his brother and sister and includes them in his fun, he really is a very well-behaved number one son.

Prince Jason – our middle child is fun to be around, he never gets too angry, always makes his bed and doesn’t let his intelligence go to his head.
He takes his studies at school seriously and hands his work in on time, he really is a well-behaved middle child.

Princess Sophie – our youngest child, has a little bit of wild but not too much, just enough to keep us on our toes that is for sure, she makes friends easily and always has a smile for everyone to see. she really is a well behaved youngest child.


Santa sighed, “I wished all children had these same reports, for certain if you do nothing naughty in the next 10 days your names will be on the Good List come Christmas Day”.

The three children cheered and wanted to ask what presents Santa had in mind but decided to decline, the three children decided to wait and be surprised.

All this time Rudolph had sat quietly by Santa’s side not saying a word and trying not to look at the children he really didn’t want to be noticed or heard, he wasn’t feeling right, his usually very Red nose did not come shiny and bright.
Princess Sophie noticed him out of the corner of her eye, ran to kneel by his side and put her hand around his neck lovingly declared “You are our very favourite reindeer”  
The Two Princes joined Princess Sophie and sighed and said “Rudolph have no fear that your nose is not Red at this time of year, there’s ten days to go before your nose is required to light up the way for Santa on Christmas Day”
If you rest and hydrate it is not too late and your nose will be right and shiny and bright for Santa on Christmas Eve night”

Rudolph was delighted and gave the children a nudge and a sloppy kiss to their ears, all three children giggled sillily.

“Now, now”, Santa said, “you have been gone a long time, you really should return home, your Mummy will be worried about you and that will never do”

They climbed into the rocket and, set the destination to their home not quite a million miles below.
As they approached their home, the roof started to open wide and the rocket began to slow, the ride was nearly over they did not have far to go.
Very soon the wardrobe landed safely on the floor, the children were exhausted and ran to open the door; out they fell full of excitement and looking for their mummy, The Queen.
Princess Sophie ran out first excitedly shouting “Mummy you never guess where we have been, we’ve been to Lapland to See Santa’s Hut and Rudolphs Nose which did not light and a Head Groomsman who was a real delight, plus all the Elves took tea with us too, we really did have fun, can we go again next year”.
“Slow down” Mummy smiled and said, “it’s getting late, it’s almost time for bed”.
If you run along to your room, get dressed for bed and clean your teeth, I will be along in a while to read you a story and you can tell me all about your trip to Lapland today, I can’t wait to hear what you all have to say”
Mummy closed the door and said “Good Night sweet children, sleep tight, say your wishes with all of your might, may all your wishes and dreams come true for you on Christmas Day”
A big thank you if you read this to the end, I hope you enjoy this seasonal story, it's a work in progress but let me know what you think.
Merry Christmas everyone ☓
Maggie Lane Nov 2012
Looking back, I think I knew she wasn’t going to wake up that night. Maybe I thought she wouldn’t wake up ever.
CHAPTER 1: ENDLESS SLEEP
It seemed to me that the fact that movies and stories make it appear as if sad things can only and will only occur during rain and thunder was just stupid. The weather has no affect on the events, right? But I was wrong. On Tuesday, April 18th, I began to realize this apparently idiotic movie ploy might have an inkling of truth buried in it.
That day, the kids had teased me again, but to be totally honest, I didn’t mind it then and I don’t mind it now. It had begun to rain when I was halfway down 17th street. I had immediately removed my shoes and socks, and stuffed them into my bag, which was already overflowing with scraps of paper and books. Most of the books had been for free time reading, and are currently lying in a heap in my room at Dad's, where they will remain unread until I decide to forget that awful, horrible, tragic day.
I ran all the way to our apartment, but went the long way and danced and twirled as my un-zippered jacked flapped uselessly behind me. My lungs burned white-hot, but my body was freezing, a feeling I still to this day enjoy. By the time I had reached the alleyway behind the crumbling yet comforting building, I was soaked through, and I loved it. I decided to go around back so Martin would have no excuse to yell at me in that foul, ill-tempered way that made the skin underneath his chin jiggle. I had started towards the rusted door when I saw her. Of course, it hadn't been her. She had been inside, where she alway waited for me to get home. But I had felt on that day as protective of her as she always insisted upon being with me.
I grasped the icy handle and slipped inside, the warmth of the building suffocating rather than comforting me. To this day, I prefer being cold, because it clears the mind, and warmth clouds it, like the foul demon that lures you into the endless sleep that tried to take my mother that day. I climbed the steps; the sudden noise of my feet on the stairs was like a rock sliding under the water, breaking the calm.
I remember how the climb up the stairs that day had seemed especially long. But mostly, I remember how the apartment smelled when I finally reached the top and slid the key into the lock, turning it noisily. I remember the smell, and how the instant it hit my nose I knew that I wasn’t to expect the warm, gentle mother I came to expect most days, but that I was going to get the harsh, drunken version, when she had been smoking and on drugs.
Resignedly, I called, “MOM! I'm home from school!” only then I hadn't known that I would never get an answer. I dumped my soaking bag unceremoniously in the hall, and it hit the floor with a wet thump, splattering mud on the tiles. When she didn't respond, I had frowned; a face Andrew tells me makes me look somehow more mysterious.
The trip I had then taken to her room revealed only that she had passed out on the bed, and that she smelt of sadness. But at that time, sadness wasn't uncommon. I don't remember how long I stood there, but I know that when I finally awoke from my thoughts, I showered and got into my softest pajamas. I settled down to do my homework, but I hadn't been trying hard, so when the time had come to make dinner, I had only made the smallest of dents.
Simply because I had been tired and hadn't been up to making anything more complicated, I made tomato soup. Mom always used to make my soup with milk rather than water, so that was how I made it too. I poured the soup into mugs, because we always liked to drink it rather than eat it. I remember sipping from my mug, and I remember how the warmth burned the roof of my mouth. The heat of it brought tears to my eyes, which were every bit as salty as the soup. I walked to her room, and knocked on the door, the sound echoing through the apartment. She hadn’t answered though, so I entered with the intention of waking her up.
“Mom!” I had said. “Wake up, I made dinner!” and I set the mugs down on her bedside table. With my freed hands, I had shaken her shoulder softly. She didn't wake though, which had surprised me, for she always woke instantly as if her dreams were frail and easy to shatter.
“Mom!” I had raised my voice, and I shook her more vigorously. “MOM!” I think it was on the third time that I finally began to realize, but I still shook her.
On the fifth try I had begun to cry, and on the sixth the calm part of me told the hysterical part: *She is fine. She will wake in the morning, I promise. She will wake.
That was the first time I ever lied to myself.
I remember pulling the covers on the bed over her, and then gingerly lying down next to her. Mom. I kept thinking to myself, as if my mere thoughts might wake her. But I had known she wasn't gone, for I felt her breath next to me, soft, shallow, and hardly discernible from my own, yet still breathing. I had drunk the rest of my soup, but left hers, telling myself she would drink it when she woke. Now, looking back, I realize how stupid it was of me to have thought that she would wake up.
I don't even remember falling asleep that night, but I must have, for in the morning when I woke I looked quickly over at her, hoping, wishing that she might have risen. I remember shaking her again, pleading, “Mom, it's the morning, and you missed dinner but it's okay, I will make you more if you please wake up, please momma. Please,” But she didn't heed me. I remember sitting in bed with her all morning, watching the clock. I didn't get ready for school. My mom was more important, I told myself. When the clock had ticked from 8:29 to 8:30, I knew the bell had rung, and I was late. I guess to me that had been a signal: The rest of the world has continued without us. I remember standing up and padding to the kitchen, and grabbing the wireless phone. I remember how icy cold it had felt, as opposed to the warmth and comfort of the bed in Mom's room. For once I simply craved the innocent warmth from my mother's inert body. I walked back in and sat on the edge of the bed. I dialed 9-1-1 and hit the 'call' button.
“This is 9-1-1 what is your emergency?” a rough male voice had said.
“I-” I had to clear my throat from lack of use. “My mom was passed out last night when I got home from school. I thought she would wake up, like she always does, but she hasn't. She is still breathing. Please come,” I had said all that with a flat voice, refusing the awful feeling in my throat that warned of tears.
“What is your location?” he asked, his voice softer now.
“913 Alvarado,” I whisper. “Fourth floor, number 413. My name is Sierra Banks.”
“Paramedics are on their way, ok?”
“Ok,” I recall how loud the click was when he hung up, and I felt the cold, empty silence press down and around me until I couldn't stand it anymore. I wanted to talk to someone, anyone, except the police officers who sounded way too casual. My mom's life might be on the line, and all they do is talk in monotone. Like they don’t care about all those lives. I knew then that I was being unfair, and that they were simply used to losing lives, but...
I looked up at the soup mugs on the table and next to them...her cell. The last person she talked to. I scooped it up, went to last calls, and hit redial.
Ring...Ring...Ring... “Hello, Clemens residence.”
“Dad.” The pain of hearing his voice then was the same as when I hear it every day now. Regret had instatly clouded my heart with the cold wall I built four years ago. Tears began to pour down my cheeks, but I can't recall now if they were hot and scalding, or cold.
“Sierra?” his voice too had become thick, and I hated him for crying. He left us.
“Yes,” I had been unable to force any other meaningless words at him. I hadn't seen him in four years, when we visited him, his beautiful new wife, and worst of all, his new baby girl. He replaced me! My throat burns to think of it. I hadn't thought of Lila, my step sister, and my replacement since she was born. Fury built up inside me. Why did mom call them last? Why does she still hold his number in her phone even after he left? And most importantly, what did they talk about? I still haven't forgotten these questions, but I most certainly haven't got any answers.
“Dad, mom is in trouble. She hasn't woken up since yesterday. I thought she would wake up but she hasn't. The ambulance is on its way,” Instantaneously, I hated myself for telling him, pouring out how scared I was. He didn't deserve to know, to pretend to feel sorry.
“Oh Sierra. Oh my beautiful daug-” he began, but I had already ended the call. How dare he call me beautiful? He hadn't seen me in so many years. He didn't deserve to pretend he care. Maybe I loved him once, but not anymore. I didn’t, and still don’t, want his sympathy, his false words, dripping in I-told-you-so. But most importantly, I didn’t want him to hear me cry.
Now I find myself having to live with him, and have to be constantly aware of him walking in on me. Like the other day when he walked into my room to see how I was doing with homework and found me rocking and bawling on the bed. Gasps had escaped from me in rapid succession; my sobs had shaken the bed so that it creaked softly. My lips curled apart from my teeth as I convulsed. I sniffed loudly and, gradually, my sobs had died down. Eventually too, my ears had regained their sense, and their voices had drifted to me from outside my bubble of silence.
Most days I had control enough to save my tears for the night or not cry at all. A week ago my English teacher had made us write letters to our parents. I had asked if I could write mine to someone else, because I was still furious at my dad, and mom left me. I know that she was in a coma, and she can't help it now, but I remember all the times that I was strong through her rampages. It didn't matter anyways, because Mr. Steiner blatantly refused. I decided to write it to mom, since I refused those days to even to acknowledge that I had a father.
And to this day I remember every word, for I read that letter a hundred times that day, until I had it committed to memory, so that I could have it with me, where ever I might be.
The ambulance arrived about five minutes after I hung up on Richard. The memory of crying, and rocking endlessly in pitch blackness made me refuse even to call him my father. What I kind of father, I asked myself, leaves his daughter crying, without comforting her, when the only person who ever loved her, is a million miles away? 'Mine,' I had answered myself, bitterly.
Mother always called me the devil child
She said I was  loud, destructive and wild

Parents told sister I was bad and she didn't ever have to play with me
Much time alone was no fun, however for some friends I did make a plea

I'd beg for my mothers attention, she'd run off to her room crying,
Yelled for my dad to come get me, because to her I was very trying

I heard my mother double dog dare my father to hit me
Mother would refer to me as a **** in front of the family

When I was very young mother once said “I will ****** you in cold blood”
Today mother said “you’re crazy, I’d never say that to a child, you are crud”

Nothing I did would ever please my mother
Gifts I bought her were tossed in the gutter

All my cousins were smart, while I was failing all my classes in school
Got into many fights with bullies and teachers who were always cruel

My family would all make fun of me, call names bully and teased
I was the loser that anyone could do or say what they pleased

None of my cousins was I ever allowed with to play
Was always much of the time alone every and all day

I lived in a strange way my dad was very to the T religious
And my mother was always drunk and of course blameless

She’d drink when home from work, on the weekends or holidays
And could always hide it from all her friends and the relatives

No one believed me when I told them that she had been drinking
They acted like I was crazy by then I knew what they were thinking

Mother took me out Friday's to eat and buy what I wanted, after work
Last stop, the liquor store for drink and smoke, was left in car like a ****

Mother would always drive with me while she was drunk
I knew she'd been drinking because she smelled like a skunk

Bought games that took two to play, parents never had any intention  
Of spending time with me, I was a bad child needing intervention

If I didn’t act a certain way when opening all my very expensive Christmas gifts
She’d pout, leave, and I’d have to open my gifts alone because I’d created a rift

Wasn't  perfect I admit;  ran off when 16 regret parents sent me away,
Came for counseling I complained about moms drinking, she felt angry

Said drinking not my problem, she’d return when I could face the truth
Never could admit wrongdoing, everything was because I was a youth

Home from school one day mom was passed out on  floor drunk
Called 911 her Dr blamed me and said no visit,  he called me a punk

My dad arrived home, find she was throwing up while passed out in bed
He'd take bowls put them near her mouth to catch it,  something I'd dread

He’d walk to the bathroom, empty the bowl and go back to get the next one to do the very same
And replace the unfilled one repeat the process.  I was told by her doctor that I was the blame

Sometimes mom would run down the hall to the toilet bowl throw up then my heart would race
Because I always knew mom would do this and then she’d come to room to scare rant and pace

Since I was a badly spoiled child who had parents with money, nice house cars and good jobs
And I was not willing to help out or be responsible, was told I made the family look like slobs

My sister let her boyfriend talk her into letting him take me to dentist, instead, he molested me
No one believed me because in the past I had lied about things, and the truth no one would see

I was different all the cousins, my aunts and uncle could blame me when things went missing
Or went wrong I was then and still am now the perfect scapegoat yes about it I’m still babbling

My father ran out the back door when he heard me wake up and come out of my room
So he didn't have to  bother with me, I wanted to spend time with him he’d assume

Somehow I managed to graduate from high school and I then would move
To a different city, I felt I might have better luck and my life would improve.

Married two very bad guys both who drank, beat me and verbally abused
Divorced them both and had one child and how I’d raise this child alone I was confused.

Moved into an apartment I still today about it rave
Mother always referred to it as a little dark damp cave

Things I wanted my mother to do with me she would say no
But wouldn't turn down a chance with other family to go

But this home where I've written articles, poetry that's been published
Most of the things I've written, mother has said they are mostly *******

Tried to work and go to school never was competent enough to follow through
Each time I would start either I did not have the ability to complete anything new

My daughter grew up, became ill with a repeating debilitating disease
I dedicated myself to getting her well, and nothing about it was a breeze

Had to take her in pain for doctor visits many times she’d cry and wished she were dead
This broke my heart with no family help, just her and I to face things in the years ahead

Unable to attend school for years, the doctor signed permission to stay home
School system assigned a teacher who was mean nothing about her was tome

School Social workers interfered
And my name they smeared

She finally one day went into remission
And now the Nephrotic kidney condition

Seems, for now, to have forever gone for good away
For years it’s been don’t want others to downplay

For a while, I home schooled her and the first semester back in the public school
She was on the honor roll things seemed to be looking up and I felt like I was the rule

Then one day she lost interest in classes, homework, and attending
And the principal of the high school was calling and threatening

Took her out of school and put her in to get her GED
Then  she was soon graduated within month of three

A year before she was supposed to graduate
I knew by then that I was doing things right

Enrolled me and her in community college we made the Dean’s list and no student loan debt
Last May she and I graduated have a new life now I don’t feel things in my life are a threat

Alone I’ve raised a good child, published a book and kept things together
I’ve published some poetry and stories in that will be on web pages forever

Even though my parents have helped me out once in a while financially
I feel lack of respect since they helped family who treated me crummy

I’m still feeling and have most of the hopeless thoughts when I was young
I still try to steer my daughter to be different from me and hold my tongue

Sister divorced husband for molesting children told kids I was bad
Lives in my town and over 20 years never talked, by her, I've been had

I think it's because my parents never would face reality or admit
To any wrong doing of years of abuse, something I couldn't forget

Mother has disowned me going to court to remove my name
Because she said I've caused her embarrassment and shame

I'm damaged goods, only go to doctor and for groceries to shop
I hide inside and on computer, write stories and poems till I drop

Why am I talking about this after all these years still?
Because I think that it may just possibly help me to heal

Looking back I find so many things have not been my fault
But I still feel many days like I'm the only one under assault.

Copyright 2013
All Rights Reserved
Am not proud of this but I had 30 jobs that I lost in 10 years and even tried going to college
Unable to remember how and when to do things, my head from years of abuse was in a fog
Jules Jan 2019
what my forays into online dating offered me that wasn’t s*x; european coffee beans, a film camera from the 70s, a workshop on ceramics, chicken parmagiana, bottles of blueberry lemonade, thai food that isn’t spicy, help with calculus homework, notes on gen chem, all the Star Wars movies, a book about magic: the gathering, a ride to an nba game, museum visits, nature walks, impulsive road trips, stories about their exes, silly anecdotes, photos of their pets, quality memes, awkward hugs that felt good.

such small intimacies, never blossoming into something bigger yet still imbued with meaning..

filled with what-ifs, if-onlys, and almosts.
M May 2013
I'd stay up late to write poetry, talk to someone I care a lot about, watch a good movie, listen to a new album, look at the stars, ponder my life, walk around my neighborhood, wait up for my dad to get home so I can tell him I appreciate how he works late to support my family.

Then again, you won't see me stay up too late to finish homework these days. Granted I'm a senior and homework was never too much of a priority in the first place, but I just don't care enough. Homework doesn't fill me like poetry or nightly walks do.

My point is that the things you care most about, the things you are passionate about keep you up at night; these things are worth losing sleep over. These things override your basic need to sleep, and if that isn't an indication to what is important to you then I don't know what is. Because on a lighter note, sleep is pretty high up on my list of "Things I care about".
Kimberly Dec 2013
Dear reader,

This is not a poem. This is not a letter. This is not really much of anything, for that matter. I hope you'll continue reading because it kind of helps knowing that someone somewhere out there is reading what I'm going to say next. I just hope you, my dear reader can benefit from my story.

It's merely 3.41AM and I am feeling empty. It's not the kind of emptiness that overwhelms you in tsunamis of water, neither is it splashes of water. It just didn't seem to have a place, it wasn't really anywhere, it was kinda just there. Haunting me.

I had just finished my O level examinations, and where I come from, it's one of the most major exams in my life. It determined my future. So like any other schooling teenager in this country, I studied for it. Not just the kind of studying where you listen in class or read the textbook and do your homework. The kind of study where I could go on without sleep for days or taking shot after shot of expresso just to keep myself going or regurgitating word for word an entire essay. All because I knew how important this was to me and my family and my future. Every day of the week was dedicated towards memorizing, every minute of the day was devoted towards practicing, and every second of the minute was committed towards reading. Basically, every millisecond was crucial. And this was something I abided by religiously. But despite my efforts, I was still struggling. I simply couldn't do well. And when you put your heart and soul into something and it just doesn't go how it's supposed to, you get really broken, destroyed. You never know what went wrong and you question many things about yourself and you start running in circles, thinking and digging. The failure I was faced with consumed me with defeatism and self hate. I broke down more often than I should as the days to my exam drew closer, and I grew more anxious and scared. So ******* scared of the future.

Bear with me, please.

Anyway, the week of my exams came quickly. Despite my efforts to slow down time, time had done just the opposite. It was the most painful and suffocating weeks of my life. And although I am one to say that lightly, this easily took the crown. I have never, ever in my life felt this close off the ledge. And there were many times were I have came very close off the ledge. My exams lasted for around 3 weeks, and each morning I had to have at least a triple shot expresso and each night I before I went to sleep, there would be these images and thoughts telling me that I didn't deserved to sleep and I shouldn't even think about it. But when I did catch some sleep, the constant fears in my day had took over my nights. I would always dream about failing the exam, or being late for the exam, or forgetting to bring something to the exam, or killing myself before the exam. It was impossibly horrible and I could actually feel my soul getting depleted by the minute. Like the 'me' in my body was slipping away and there would soon be nothing harboring my body. I often find myself crying to sleep, and waking up in tears. I couldn't stand being so weak and vulnerable, but I felt absolutely defenseless against everything around me. Even the ones that loved me couldn't make me feel human, I felt like I was already dead and my body was still alive. I felt like I was constantly suffocating and nobody could see it. Each day felt so purposeless, ironically. (It being my exams week) Waking up each and every day was draining and having to face my eminent fate was painful. A physical kind of pain where you felt lightheaded and spinning but yet caged and choked. It's hard to describe.

So, it isn't hard to tell that I wasn't in the right state of mind to take my exams. I just dragged myself through those past couple of weeks, doing what I could. Each breath felt labored and each thought in my head wore me down greatly. I broke down frequently before my papers, and there would always be this couple of schoolmates who say things like "You'll do fine, stop worrying." Or "Just do your best. Whatever will be, will be." My parents would even try to tell me to take it easy and "We'll be proud as long as you've tried your best." I know that they mean well. But no, you don't understand. I have worked too ******* long and too ******* hard to watch it all slip away from me just like that. It isn't just some national exam I have to study for, it was my godforsaken passport for the future. All that I have done for this exam, all that I have forsaken, all that I have gone through was for myself. It was the dedication of every ounce of strength that I had so that I could let myself believe that hope existed. And I had just watched it being snatched away from me, right before my own sunken in, swollen eyes. And it hurt like hell knowing that I've tried my best for it, and it is a reflection of what I've worked for. Nobody's going to look at C's and D's and see the reflection of an "overnight mugger", they'll see what comes to mind first: a lazy, complacent teen. And as the saying goes, "The lie, if repeated a hundred times, becomes the truth." All my hard work will be forgotten. And it will be like it never existed before.

Maybe some might think that all this is stupid. All this I go through for one exam, I know many of my schoolmates think that way. But the complex feelings that I experience for this exam isn't just because of my future. My life depends more than it should on this exam because it will prove to me that I am not a failure and I am not as stupid as I think I am. I want to know where my best truly is and where I stand. Because I have never worked for anything in my life but this exam has been the great exception. It was the key driving force of my life, it was what wore me down and spurred me on at the same time. I don't want people to tell me that I am capable and that I am smart, because I will never believe you. I need this exam to show me that I am capable and I am smart. I want to believe it too.

So I lie in bed at 4.17AM now feeling so afraid of the future. And I used to be the kid that depended on the prospect of a better day. I have yet to meet my impending doom, and if you are wondering, I collect my results next year in January. So now, I am lost and alone. And empty.

Thank you if you've read this far, I just hope that you, my dear reader, if you've ever felt useless, or not good enough or you're just hurting, know that you are not alone and there is someone that knows how you feel. I would tell you to be strong, but only you can do that for yourself. Just hang in there.

k.m.
Devyn Mar 2013
my mom always told me i was lazy
she was right; i never wanted to clean my room
or make my bed
or do my homework
i just wanted to go on the computer
or watch tv
or hang out with friends
because i wanted to be happy
and doing chores didn't make me happy

so when i went to college
i didn't clean my room
or make my bed
or do my homework
all i did was go on the computer
or watch tv
or hang out with friends
because i finally was on my own and had the chance to be happy

but rather than getting happier, my heart got heavier
things went from okay to bad
and then bad to worse
and now i'm tired

mom, you were right; i'm lazy
there are things that i don't want to do
because they are too much work
like cleaning my room, making my bed, doing my homework,
and waking up tomorrow morning
The Unknown Aug 2014
My family gives me what I need
My homework drains my cup
My friends remain like silent seeds
My smartphone wakes me up
October Sky May 2012
quickly!
whats 13 times 56?
mulitply the
square root of the answer by 178.

determine the mass
of an elephant
when it is 30 feet in
diameter.

Alge-bra
hmmm...
bra...
Right Sorry!
math,
wonder if its polka-dotted?
Nat Lipstadt Mar 2015
(I love) Dignity

tearing words apart,
a part
of  a joy I cannot
explain or share exactly


knew a man once,
forty two years gone,
died too soon enough,
soon enough,
he and I will be
the same age

this man
a duck out of water,
a stranger in an adopted land,
trouble-stooped, a hard life, well lived,
never bent,
dignified in every step

I cannot remember him
ever kissing me, tousling my hair,
holding my hand, loving me in
a manner I wanted beyond  desperately

yet here I am, 5:22 am
weeping tears recalling him
in glimpses long ago seen,
adding them all up to get a
single sum

Dignity.

tearing words apart,
a part
of a joy I cannot/explain,
share precisely


dig
in
to
my
chambered memory storage units,
unlocking those rusted locks with freshly oiled
tears
and loving the dignity he exampled

to the son he could not kiss, hand hold,
but taught him the one lesson, digging deep
to respect life and stand apart,
stand with dignity.

all else will follow

the son kissed his children plenty,
in a vain attempt to make up his missed
homework

now the grandfather,
now the grandfather
is still kissing
his last hope, his newest babes,
rolling on the floor,
so silly kissing belly buttons,
smelling their skin repeatedly,

in a manner most
undignified

still weeping
the son,
he tries to sort it out

and forgives and does not forget
the man that taught dignity
in everything,
even, especially,
in slow dying,

forty two years is a long time to wait
to weep.

it takes two hands in the dark
repeatedly
to collect all the waiting patiently
wetness and the
accompanied sniffles,
so undignified,
the son smiles at himself
declaring unabashedly,
digging out from himself
a poem, a self-reflection
on time tarnished reflections
clear enough to make him
sob,
believing

I love dignity.
for my father...
Cathy Mar 2014
What if all he wanted to write
Was all he wanted to write
Oh hey! It's 2 am.... *looks over to assignment*

— The End —