"lunchroom" poems
There’s this beautiful girl at my school
And she smokes a pack a week
And she’s pregnant
She’s got beautiful eyes and that’s all I can see
Her baby will have beautiful eyes too.
And she moans out loud in the lunchroom, “man, I’m going to be so fat in a few months.”
And I swear to god that whenever I see her,
I want to lift up her shirt
and press my cheek against the life beating inside her
and hope that it soaks into my pores
So I can feel something as real as that.
But when I have a baby girl someday
I will love her
Like I love the taste of a grapefruit on hot summer days
I will love her like every ****** I have ever had
I will love her like every prayer I have ever whispered in my car
I will love her like how I miss my dad sometimes
And my baby girl will know that I love her because when I put her on one of those horses on the carousel, I will kiss her hand every time she comes back around to me
and I’ll miss her every second she’s away
And I’m going to teach her so much more than her daddy ever could.
My baby girl’s gonna learn that everybody’s going to die someday
So she should try to meet everyone as soon as possible.
And I’m gonna make sure she never has *** with a person she doesn’t love
But I’m gonna make sure she falls in love every day.
I’ll teach my baby girl to love the way I’ll love her
and then
I’ll love her more every day
until I die or
until I forget whose hands are attached to my wrists.
But I'm sure I’ll remember
when she holds them.
Jun 1, 2011
Jun 1, 2011 at 6:42 PM UTC
Miss Elliot is not just a single mom
Miss Elliot is not just white trash
Because Miss Elliot must stay calm
In the lunchroom, though she grins wide, she’ll crash
In the West End High lunchroom peak hour
Miss Elliot, our warrior stands strong
"You ugly white trash," they scream at the door
But she keeps quiet, she won't yell you're wrong
At home, she has a little one to watch
She packs her bag, cleans off her recipe
She claws in her mind for hope hard to catch
As she quietly gives us a whisper
"So what will it be
Chris, Molly, Rudy?"
Mar 17, 2015
Mar 17, 2015 at 9:55 PM UTC
I have a message for the kid sitting in the back of the classroom
You know, the one with the bruises, ask him what's wrong he'll give you the dumbest excuses
"I fell down the stairs, and ran into the door"
But stairs and doors don't give black eyes and broken bones so what are you lying for?
I have a message for the prettiest girl in school
You know, The one hiding behind all that make-up and hairspray
Pretending she couldn't be having a better day
Yet she's afraid to go back to her broken home
Because her step-dad hurts her mom and her brother won't leave her alone
School is her sanctuary
What you don't know can be scary.
I have a message for the boy on his skateboard
Sellings drugs and liquor to make a quick buck
Then he got caught for possession and now he's stuck
In that cell all by himself remembering what his friends said
"We're bros, forever" But they left him for dead.
I got a message for that wierd girl in the lunchroom
The one that eats alone,
She has no place to call home
She smells bad because she doesn't own a shower
Living in shelters, her life is out of her power
Because her parents messed up she has to hurt
But she wants to do better so she does her school work
I have a message for the boy blogging
Those cuts on his wrists are not cat scratches
They're more like past mistakes left on his arms in patches
He can't help how sad he always feels
But he refuses to be that kid "on pills"
I have a message for that girl with the strict parents
Wishing she could bring her girlfriend to meet the family
But she knows if she did they wouldn't be happy
Because being gay is a sin
And if you're gay you're not kin
**** what a world we live in.
I have a message for all the messed up kids
Who struggle in the daily lives they live.
You will be okay
Things will get better someday.
So put away that blade and pick up that paint brush
Don't end your life before you've felt the rush
Wait until you've had your first kiss
I promise you there will be so many moments of bliss
Put down that bottle of pills
You of all people deserve life's thrills
I know sometimes it's hard to catch the curveballs life throws your way,
Just get low and get ready to play
To the kids who feel lost and alone
I will be the one to welcome you home
Jul 6, 2013
Jul 6, 2013 at 1:58 PM UTC
Stranger in a strange land
Roaming the halls.
Lost between the feet of giants.
Outnumbered. Outmatched.
The lunchroom.
Already?
Where to sit? Who to talk to?
Salisbury steak. Yes.
Always analyzing.
Sitting with seniors.
How’d that happen?
Their excitement is my fear.
A friend. Finally.
Becky.
Yellow vehicle of safety.
Home.
I made it.
Only 719 more days to go.
Jan 31, 2013
Jan 31, 2013 at 7:52 PM UTC
Everyone only thinks about themselves,
but I only think about you;
I think about your face under a hot shower,
I think about what that hot water could do to my lips after kissing every inch of your body;
I constantly think about every inch of your body.
You breathe just like every other human; your heart beats in the exact same way as everyone else's does, but for some reason no other human, nor creature, can capture my attention & consume all of my thoughts (whether i'm conscious or not), like you can.
No one can forget my birthday yet still look so beautiful in that dress that you bought specifically to wear for me; no one can simply buy a dress like you can, & I know that sounds silly but the way you hand that cash over the counter & swipe your debit card makes my heart melt & my molecules rattle; my whole internal self is just one giant tambourine when you're near, & the music that my cells & veins produce will be played lightly in the background everytime you kiss my cheek & grab my hand while i'm driving.
As long as you continue to wear that dress for me & take the hottest of showers no matter what society tells you, then I will forever keep running after you no matter how fast you go & will always remember what it felt like to see you across the lunchroom;
casually falling in love with the thought of you,
with the thought of one day writing something for you that i'd actually be proud of,
with the thought of seeing your whole vulnerable self laying underneath my covers & knowing that I made the right decision for the first time in my life,
with the thought of kissing every inch of your body,
with the thought of losing my voice while you're the only one speaking;
with the thought of screaming out the only words that i've ever known to be true, "I Love You."
Mar 22, 2014
Mar 22, 2014 at 4:29 PM UTC
Look what you've done!
double the serving size of torment
the battle has begun
hunger pangs won't relent
another helping: slashes of lament
I'd rather be empty
necessary rations, I resent
beneficial to you, poisonous to me
drifting through the days, rugged debris
I've become a lunchroom paralytic
ignore me, mediocre bourgeoisie
not a stomach, but a heart granitic
I ask for seconds - of love, not larder
For once, I feel full. Incomparable ardor.
Apr 23, 2015
Apr 23, 2015 at 12:55 AM UTC
my eyes fell into my dreams last night...i searched for them for three million days...
i went to the halls but found only suits of rotten gold...i went to the movies but found only *********** with tiny worms fucking...i went to the bookstore but couldn't afford to enter...i went to the cemetery and tripped over all the empty graves...i went to the city but couldn't walk because i was hit by three billion cars...i went to the schools but found only ear less teenagers with red bull smiles...i went to the lunchroom and smelled the greasy spoons...i went to the barber but to many hairs filled my mouth and made it hard to breath...i went to the swimming pool but found polluted water and oily animals devouring any leftovers...i went to the hillside but the view was blocked by tall black clouds...i went to the forest but fell into a plastic bucket...i went to the mountain tops but found nothing not even snow...i went to the valley and threw up on all the dead bodies...i went to the steppes and found robotic horses with glaring red eyes and really bad breath...i went to the hospital and found only sickness and no health...i went to the ocean but could not swim with the dolphins because they tried to eat my clothes...i went to the islands and found only weapons sharpened with blood...i went to the stars but could not see...my eyes have fallen and i can't pick them up...
Jan 17, 2010
Jan 17, 2010 at 7:59 AM UTC
It happened several years ago
But it is a true story in the flow
A Senior Citizen woman being my Grandmother
She was a strong woman like no other
She worked as a Board Of Education Lunchroom Manager at P.S. 202 in Brooklyn, New York
As my Grandmother was leaving on a regular day, a Mugger was getting ready to pounce
It all happened on the busy street of Atlantic Avenue
My Grandmother was on her way to the Doctor
But when she got in the middle of the street, the mugger showed his attack mystique
However, the Mugger didn’t know he was in for a surprise
Yet my Grandmother showed that Mugger her realize
She literally knocked the mugger off his feet
The Mugger tried another attempt in attack being another retreat
Well my Grandmother showed that Mugger, this senior citizen was determined to not be beat
What do you think happened?
The Mugger got sacred and ran off
Now my Grandmother 5’ 5’ being short, but I never said she was weak
Big things come in small packages
My Grandmother being the Biblical David and defeating Goliath being the Mugger
My Grandmother’s response being her slugger power
She reigned supreme and that Mugger knows what that means
This is a true story and I am being honest
Senior Citizen’s have more power than Social Security, and their strength being their unity.
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 7:06 PM UTC
Dear students, the summer has ended.
The school year at last has begun.
But this year is totally different.
I promise we'll never have fun.
"We will study lots of mathematics,
and classes will last all day long.
Instead of the pledge of allegiance,
we'll belt out math equations.
"We'll never play games in the classroom.
You're not welcome to bring in your toys.
It's punishable by death to run in the hallways.
It's prison for life if you make lots of noise.
"For homework, you'll 10 hours a night.
You'll have to read lots of books.
For field trips we'll go to the local library
and get lots of veggies for a few million bucks.
"The lunchroom will only serve whole wheat
overcooked veggies and boiled milk
Yes, that's what I did.
Im the king now
Jul 22, 2014
Jul 22, 2014 at 4:59 PM UTC
Maybe I learned it face down into a pillow
Feeling heavy day old mascara lift off light eyes, salvaging the reputation
that enervates, dead-beat bones. Maybe it was the way
Boys seized at your hair
only to learn that man-handling pins down your sanity
Left wondering if he really thought you were a *****
Maybe it was how I’d cut
my knees scaling the rock invested grounds
of the alley between our houses; slitting my legs
into paper cut towns, rolling with vigor. Maybe it was how you
Didn’t learn to exist without being wanted
How the right amount of despondent desperation in a voice would launch her hips,
and they’d sit layered in his smoke and your culpability,
compulsive, taking in the show. Wishing you hadn’t attended
Or maybe it was how we read each other romance novels
in the lunchroom, sharing particulars
of genitals and true love.
Maybe it was the way we learned to be quiet
our insides begging for touch one more time, the sweetness
we discovered in the bones of each others backs, in the closeness
I felt when you told me about your relationship with your mother
Maybe it was the face close, Lips on the side of a neck.
Fingers run down your spin. His we still aren’t together
I wonder when Haley comes back. The way he alone,
creates the complete ruination of a half broken body.
The way I loved him anyway
the way you learn to stay quiet.
Apr 6, 2016
Apr 6, 2016 at 12:32 PM UTC
We broke up yesterday
And we weren't even dating
But it feels exactly the same as I remember
It's just like last April
I'm staring at your from across the lunchroom
Knowing I shouldn't
But hoping and praying
I'll catch your eye
I just want to see you smile at me again
Like you used to
So in love
So perfect for me
I want to text you
Talk to you
Tell you about my day
Read your funny messages
But I can't
Because I broke the part of you that cares about me
And I can't get it back
So I'll have to live with what I so desperately desired
But now I know that I never wanted that
And could never handle you going away
Life is still going on
But it's not as fun
And it's only been a day
I'm so lost
Please don't let this be permanent
Please accept my apology
Please don't stop
Loving me
Apr 2, 2014
Apr 2, 2014 at 8:04 PM UTC
There is a boy who has grown into a man. A boy whose a boy and has room to grow.
He's hurting. He stands up around the lunchroom to throw away what he made himself eat, hearing voices everywhere knowing none will remember him. Only but a small few will know his legacy and maybe they'll tell tales about him.
The boy looks at his friends yearningly, knowing that only a couple truly accepts him. Truly…loves him. The boy looks at his arms, covered in scars they reflect the war going on in his mind. A war of voices, screaming. Insane. Deranged. The boy wants to cry, wants to embrace his friends. He wants to be accepted and told it'll be okay.
Will it be okay? Will he come back from the war? He shakes, both his head and body. Craving what destroys him, he sits back. Will it be okay? Will it be okay? It'll be okay. It'll be okay.
Nov 14, 2013
Nov 14, 2013 at 6:36 PM UTC
At the sound of the bell
rush the lunchroom
where melting hot cookies
make a sweet perfume.
Some kids have brown bags
names scribbled in pen,
while other kids have nobody
to pack bags for them.
Those are the kids
sitting on the lawn.
Smoke stuck in their shirts
from cigarette smoking moms.
They have ***** hands,
purple under eyes,
holes in their shirts,
and shoes untied.
They are kids
that don’t have names.
So easily forgotten
and forgotten again.
I’m among them,
the lonely, lunch-less, wild,
torn clothes and tangled hair.
“Problem child!”
Then there are glass eyed kids
ritzy and rotten
with button up shirts
of egyptian cotton.
They garble their candy
they snicker and crunch,
while us kids on the grass
watch their giant mouths munch.
I am used to what happens
every September.
It’s my birthday
my parents never remember.
but my friends present me
a candle to light
and I make a wish
they hold my hands tight.
*I wish
that we could all look out
for one another.
I wish
that we could be
each others
sisters and brothers.
I wish
that we could not be alone
and live together.
I wish
that we could make
our own family
that lasts
Forever.*
Jun 20, 2015
Jun 20, 2015 at 1:41 PM UTC
you're not friends with the insiders who won't let the outsiders in.
You make friends with those who let you in.
Feb 23, 2016
Feb 23, 2016 at 10:37 PM UTC
Going to school today not even making a sound.
The adrenaline rush makes my heart pound.
Just me and my lunch box today thats all I need.
I got so much food in here the whole lunchroom I could feed.
No ones going to have to steal my lunch today.
I will practically be giving it away.
The bell rings it’s time to begin with first hour.
I sit front row with my lunch box and don’t even cower.
They laugh at me saying “Oh did mommy make your lunch?”
After first hour I am in the halls, they taunt and punch.
I stagger to second hour still holding my lunch box.
These sticks and stones fell like logs and rocks.
It’s ok though.
Only two more hours to go.
By third class Iv’e been quite abused.
Teachers laughing so fckng amused.
the bell rings its finally time to go and eat.
Once again in the lunchroom I have no seat.
I raise my lunch box standing proud and high.
I yell as loud as I can “who’s ready to die?”
They all laugh like I am some fckng joke.
This lunch box is about to open and smoke.
I reach inside and flailed my armed hand.
Firing off rounds of hate, I am making a stand.
I don’t know how many I shot and killed that day.
But this lunch box warrior got his way
May 8, 2017
May 8, 2017 at 8:07 PM UTC
Summer nights long forgotten filled with sticky air and ***** feet.
Nights that didnt begin until 10 pm.
I was always the ghost when we played ghost in the graveyard,
running to the same hiding spot among the wheat every time.
All I could hear was my breathing and their screams as they pretended to look for me and very quickly give up
I picked at grass for hours as the moon inflated and the air tricked you into thinking it was December and not August
They would always start a bonfire and tell stories and laugh.
I have scars on my feet from running so fast down that dirt road,
always just stopping before hitting the interstate.
I was only 10. I still believed in belonging.
I am always the ghost on friday nights.
Empty invites,
“come back to my place for a few drinks, my parents are out of town. Everyone’s coming.”
Just take me home.
Please just take me home.
Don’t look at me like that.
My house is the third on the right.
The girl I made a blood pact with won’t look at me in the hallway.
The boy I held as he cried about his father sits with a girl I know he can’t love.
I have friends, oh I have so many friends.
We used to run through the forests like our soles were on fire.
Little did we know soon it wouldn’t be just the skin under our feet that was burning.
We used to pretend we had super powers.
She used to say she could make force fields,
and I don’t doubt for a second that when she refuses dinner and goes to her room early that a force field is exactly what she has made.
He said he was so strong he could lift buildings,
now he can’t even lift his eyelids as we make eye contact across the lunchroom.
I said I could talk to animals and now I speak more to my dog than to my father.
We said we had superpowers.
Everyone has a superpower.
I don’t even have to be drunk not to feel anything.
I was voted most likely to rule the world by my class.
I didn’t even think people knew I existed.
I talk to a boy who is so far away and as he claims he will see me soon I can’t help but think the future he speaks of when he’s high is nothing but a pipe dream.
Doesn’t he know that I’m destined to rule the world?
Doesn’t he know I have superpowers?
Doesn’t he know that on that night they forgot me 7 years ago I learned that my home wasn’t on the right?
Or the left?
Doesn’t he know that I’m lost?
Jun 3, 2016
Jun 3, 2016 at 5:53 AM UTC
Now you greet me
now you don’t
our friendship went up in smoke
I see almost every day
you never care to do, or say
you walk right by
without a glance
I see you look
at the opposite wall
just in order to avoid me
whether lunchroom, class, or hall
I see you laugh
your group of friends
yet I still try
to make amends
I watch you speak
with some of my mates
and feel myself shiver
I still won't hate
no matter all the hurt, or the tears
I still will love you
for many years
I see you glance
then look away
my eyes tear up
because I know
that it just might stay this way.
Mar 15, 2015
Mar 15, 2015 at 8:22 AM UTC
A crowd emerged
From classes upstairs
After washing their hands
They all sits here
In this room, biggest in the school
Where air is filled with, joyous molecules.
Oh, we had waited, for hours four
To step inside, the lunchroom's door
We all, me and my friends
Find ourselves on a bench
Our food in front of us
We join our hand.
A voice coming from mic
Sing a 'before meal rhyme'
Then start gossiping, this and that,
Enjoying the food, so good, we ate.
"Did you see the match, yesterday?"
"Me and my ma, are going to market on Sunday."
And we talk on every matter, that belongs to us
From a fantastic toy to every movie characters.
As soon as, we finished our meal,
Our lunch box, get sealed
And out of room,
We go in our classroom
But before we washed our hands,
As you all did after your meal
May be, it looks a little messy for you
But who cares?
Food and laugh, we all shares
In our, called with love, a lunchroom.
Oct 28, 2020
Oct 28, 2020 at 2:30 AM UTC
It seems as though,
My true friends are leaving,
And I’m simply stuck in their shadow.
But you my dear friend,
One of which I’m believing,
Our friendship will never come to an end.
At the high school cafeteria lunchroom,
We shared laughter and thorough teasing.
Is where I truly had time to bloom.
Seemingly is no long just another word,
Just a reminder of your comedic being,
You’ve yet to become matured.
I hope that I’ve ruined bananas for you,
This is for now the end unceasing,
But yet, my friend, I thank you.
May 29, 2018
May 29, 2018 at 2:46 AM UTC
Rosalie Avila,
she was only 13.
Happy as can be,
smiling like the brightest sun.
Loving life,
while spreading the joy around.
Until that day at school,
classmates started teasing her,
while calling Rosalie
such horrific names.
She started cutting,
numbing every emotion
that came her way.
Taunting Rosalie,
always sat alone in the lunchroom.
Their words were tearing her apart,
ripping away her self esteem.
She had enough,
going home,
heading towards her room,
closing the door.
Her mom came walking inside,
gasping in horror,
seeing her baby girl
hanging from the ceiling.
Quickly taken to the emergency room, where she was later put off life support…
Still the bullying keeps coming up,
teens are now trolling,
even bashing the parents.
Mocking,
judging,
discriminating,
hating,
smacking.
Rosalie's parents are still grieving and mourning,
while wishing upon a shooting star
that their daughter was
never put through all that crap.
Mar 17, 2020
Mar 17, 2020 at 5:34 PM UTC
Appalachian Justice:
Often served luke-warm
With salmon croquets fried on the stove
Lunchroom peas from a can
Mashed potatoes that look more like butter cream
And a “Bless your heart”
That sounds more like a curse
Mar 19, 2025
Mar 19, 2025 at 2:07 AM UTC