"majoring" poems
young kid my age on the news for
being partially beheaded in South
Vancouver
his girlfriend blurry
pixels in shock. he was majoring
in criminology, sweet God I miss
him already, oh my sweet
sweet
whatever.
My heart aches and a
tear wells and crawls down my
cheek to my chin to my neck to
my chest. I'm at work.
this is
unprofessional.
Jan 24, 2013
Jan 24, 2013 at 9:30 PM UTC
Resume: Jewel de Saex
Address: Lost somewhere up the hills.
email: [email protected]
Tel: + network not available
Summary
Hire me if: you are looking for an adventure.
Clouds, gorges, and I never disappoint, for we can cry.
Education
Bachelor, Mistress and Widower at the University of Zoya, majoring
in Life Sciences, with a minor in the applications of horseshoe magnets.
Expertise
I know them laws of attraction well +
New languages: both Silicon and Carbon-based ++
Magic, luck and fate.
Experience
For years I steered a boat
riding a rough river that
passed storms every day.
I was the rain-maker, I can
bring tears to any passing cloud
by my mere hand-gesture:
(all the dough-kneading.)
I was also the chief gardener
for Loz, whose farms at
the other end of the Earth
I visited by the switch door
in my old photo-albums each day.
Skills
Jugglery, innovative use of cutlery, reading runes, plucking prunes,
riding boats on dunes, talking by eyes, hearing by sight.
References: Not available even on request.
*NOtes:
+ Turn pages back and you always find, only one person was in love.
++ I can decipher the meanings in the lispings of cherubs and angels.
I understand the cloud and the river, as of men in any tongue.*
Mar 11, 2015
Mar 11, 2015 at 3:15 PM UTC
goodbye poetry
some get none
now to write for a cause and not applause
majoring in alienation
hijack a popular avatar
just for a pyrrhic victory
put everything into the microwave
universal wealth care
***** it all
ensuring that all this isn't for everyone
only the best continue following
gone to get a life
(aka self-inflicted pain experience)
real life just dragged on and on
the same names keep coming back
observing their well-established cliques
like an anthropologist observing chimps
that glorious era
when the streams of consciousness
suffered a drought
maelstrom of ragnarok
took summer off life support
tasty
electoral fraud as a way of life
just shredded all the "yes" votes so nobody would know
looking to buy an extremist audience
and wondering if maybe walmart has one
the carnage has just begun
seething rage into the vault
tabs opened to liveleak videos of beheadings
all that freedom and she says "vanilla, please"
ideas with which everyone agrees
ideas embraced by all
everyone loves megalomania
everyone enjoys violent passion
everyone loves paroxysms
90 percent of you don't actually exist
low intelligence levels in all but four followers
make that five
hail eris hail discord hail chaos
mark all as read
mark all as ******
trapped in a vicious cycle
eating white toasted bread and acting all stable
invisible at last
discovered a way to speak
freely without judgment
discovered a way to avoid
positive feedback
sitting down for lunch with two popes
Sep 20, 2014
Sep 20, 2014 at 11:52 AM UTC
The Art Teacher
for the one whose initials mean morning
"teaching art isn't about teaching art. it's just about letting people be - letting them be them, showing them it's ok. i don't know...that's why i like it. everyone is so scared...i like to try to show them they don't have to be afraid."
~~~~~~~
writ by one woman,
an art teacher
whose young life story
is a chain refrain,
*put it on me,
put it down right on me*
her see
nowadays
is her sea
of nowadays nothing but troubles,
ocean thirteen fathoms deep
what hasn't gone wrong,
just wasn't worth
being put on the list
we all need someone to lean on,
so here I am,
leaning on her,
surprise!
her prize,
a strength so profound
when depths plummeted,
she curses the dark deservedly
then writes me
another poem and
her sinking ship
never goes under,
despite life's repeated
offensive attempts
to play her,
down after down
you see she gets it,
not quite rightly,
she
is an artwork,
momentarily
needy for a frame suitable,
and I,
well,
am in a museum gallery
admiring her,
for she is great
art,
and from great
trouble,
her art grows greater,
her persona painting
simpler and straighter
so here I am thinking
student minoring in art,
think she is an art,
a teacher majoring
in teaching how to be
so here I am laughing,
my pandora gremlin
does it again,
playing games,
first "Lean On Me"
and then
"Let It Be"
so let her be,
so she can teach
the art of letting us
be
Jun 17, 2014
Jun 17, 2014 at 3:49 AM UTC
Oh wow…
Wowie wow wow wow!
He sure is cute.
His name is Kevin.
And I’m in love with him!
I don’t know much about Kevin, though.
He used to play football,
Until he blew out his knee.
But I bet he was real good!
Now, he’s majoring in chemistry.
It would be a lot better if he were smart…
Unfortunately, Kevin has a sponge for a brain…
He doesn’t know the difference between a mixture or a substance.
I don’t even think he knows his face from his ***
It’s a good thing he’s cute though.
So very cute.
His hair is very short and black.
It frames his angular face like a beautiful picture of Queen Victoria is framed in a diamond frame.
Kevin’s eyes are blue.
A miraculous, bright blue.
It’s a good thing that he’s cute,
Because he really is a brick…
Mar 24, 2013
Mar 24, 2013 at 8:14 PM UTC
The ocean's powerful dark waves
Spit in the billowing winds
Splash onto our already tearful faces
The ocean is big
We went for a dip
But found ourselves out of land's sight
I feel these pinches
and bites
of the world's stammering mouth
surrounding the waves and
preventing us from resurfacing
shaded by the sails of the drowning boats
the drowning economy
the flailing political states that forgot how to swim
the last breathes of human rights
the Earth is frightened as a child
as the disease of humanity
quickly devours her
and we race her to our own deaths
As if it was a friendly game of Marco Polo
We can see blots of our trivial goals
as we come up for air.
But oxygen doesn't visit us so frequently anymore.
Maybe because we didn't invite him to our dinner party and took him for granted.
And my dreams of being part of the things that happen on a big scale
Are realized.
We are in the center of the whirlpool,
and our toxic boats are pulling us down with them.
No matter how small we are,
what we have built was too big
To avoid.
I tried to climb the trees,
take my loved ones to the tops,
but any attempts to salvage were useless.
The trees were not on our side,
even if we were on theirs.
I would prefer to drown in water
Than this.
Jul 16, 2013
Jul 16, 2013 at 9:01 PM UTC
It was September, 1967, when the young coed from Texas Tech University entered the television studio at KCBD TV, Channel 11 in Lubock, Texas. Blonde hair with a reddish tint, "Strawberry Blonde", the stylists call it, accompanied by sparkling blue eyes and and a diminutive smile that accented her personality.
She was there looking to find a part-time job. That summer she had worked as an intern in the promotion department at a television station in Dallas, and was majoring in journalism at the university. A mutual friend with whom she worked in Dallas, had put her in touch with me. I worked as an 'on air' director, and was getting the studio reset for the six o'clock news following a commercial taping session. Although the station had no job openings at the time, a series of events began to take shape.
That chance meeting changed my life, and I recall it as if it happened yesterday. I was twenty five, she, twenty. Two months later, In November, 1967, we married. Forty years and two months later, following cancer surgery, Karen passed away, but not until giving us a fantastic son, wonderful daughter-in-law, and now, two grandchildren, who have redefined the phrase,"growing like weeds."
The holiday period has always been a time for reflections, some good, some 'not so good.' Can't be helped, human nature. But, as the sages say, "Life goes on", and it has been good to me in many ways.
"Thank you, Lord, for helping me along the way."
r.riddle: January 01, 2017
Jan 1, 2017
Jan 1, 2017 at 8:36 AM UTC
Welcome to college!
Here’s a crash course of campus;
Im majoring in procrastination,
And minoring in cramming.
My teacher’s name is Boring,
It’s a wonder I’m still standing.
This class is mumbo jumbo,
While this just makes no sense.
All the kids drink coffee,
And the teachers are all so tense.
I fall asleep at night
With the lump in the next bed snoring.
I put my clothes on right before bed,
I don’t have time in the morning!
The first building here...
Is exactly where?
The next building over...
You need a map I swear!
The café gives you goop.
For breakfast today its gunk.
I skip the middle meal of the day,
For dinner its beer and junk.
People say college is awfully hard;
With teachers, tests and money.
They say studding gives you a cramp.
To me it sounds like camp.
Dec 23, 2011
Dec 23, 2011 at 4:16 PM UTC
you live like
the entire opposite of me
blow herb like it grows indefinitely
drink 40 oz until you can’t see
you aren’t the scholar I imagine I’d be
with
the guy majoring in biology
taking classes are nearly filled to capacity
like my mind with this fantasy
that isn’t reality – is it?
because my guy
is supposed to be involved in the community
in school, working and paying his bills on time
like you
but you – you’re not him
you just
eat
sleep
work
and repeat all over again
sold herb on the side got money and then –
realized
you wanted something different
a career and a girl
but do you really want to be
with a girl like me
because being with a boy
like you
is scary to me
i'm scared of me
and you
my guy is supposed to
have graduated high school
with a 4.0 and will go
to graduate school with that diploma
wrapped in blue and gold
he'll hold me right and treat me right
and write me poetry
even though he's never set foot
in a class like that
like you
but listen - you're different
you just got out of court for a DUI
it seems like your a party type of guy
but that fact that you drink
like UCSB frat boy worries me.
i might fall for you
because we talk so often
when i meet you in the doorway
will you have me at hello
will i have you at hello
the hell do i know
i'm not sure how to end this
because we haven't yet begun
Nov 9, 2010
Nov 9, 2010 at 8:04 PM UTC
She was fished out of the river just beneath the mighty span.
Her clothes suggested affluence. Her death bespoke despair.
I sent two men to search the spot from whence she took to air.
Her dead face poses the challenge; can you find out who I am?
Her prints? Not in our database. No purse and no I.D.
She wrote no note that we can find before she took her leave.
Was this some broken love affair? Is there no one to grieve?
The witnesses to her leap are few and contradictory.
Her hair is blonde and shoulder length, neatly coiffed and trimmed.
I notice that she bit her nails, but never will again.
She should be off in college; a new beginning not an end.
The M.E. bags the body. Soon the autopsy will begin.
I look through missing person files, to match a face and name.
I dread the call I’ll have to make to drain some parents’ hope.
To lose a child by her own hand- how can a parent cope?
The tox screen shows no drugs present. I had thought the same.
Female Caucasian, about nineteen, no birth marks and no scars.
Our Janet Doe was pregnant. Was that motive for her leap?
Did her condition make her desperate for this forever sleep?
Surveillance footage yields a clue. To pursue I’ll need my car.
The Tap room reeks of Guinness; the night is near its end.
I show her picture to the barkeep- This girl was here tonight.
There’s a glint of recognition and new facts brought to light.
He doesn’t know her name, but he surely knows her Friends.
They are sitting at a table, looking somewhat worse for drink.
I get her name and address. She is “Janet Doe” no more.
Celene attended N.Y.U. she had been majoring in law.
I left them deeply grieving and not knowing what to think.
This morning I will make the call, the saddest one of all.
“Can you come in to identify the wreck of your hopes and dreams?”
“We think your daughter took her life, at least that’s how it seems.”
To hear her mother’s sobbing is the hardest thing of all.
For thirty years I’ve worked this beat, but today I cried.
I’m not inured to suffering or indifferent to pain.
I’ve seen the broken bodies and think it such a shame
whenever wingless angels try to fly.
Feb 11, 2015
Feb 11, 2015 at 8:27 AM UTC
I'll give you this piece of me
Though there's not much to give
Do with it what you will
But here it is
I lost my mother
Just this past April
She wasn't there for graduation
She won't be there
If I get married
Or have little babies
And it breaks my heart
I know I've still got my father
But it's not the same
We're too different
He doesn't understand
There's no comfort
When I get bad
Nothing but anger
I need her
And she's not here
I've spent hours just crying
And because of an accident
Her car is gone too
It could have been mine
And now it's gone
I gave up my dream
Of going to school
Majoring in photography
(Something she helped me discover)
Making her proud
To buy a new car
So I could still work
I've got no more dreams
Nothing to look forward to
And I feel hopeless
After my car is paid off
In about two years
I may just end it
There's nothing left for me
Not in this life
Aug 31, 2014
Aug 31, 2014 at 1:53 PM UTC
Dear me (9 years from now),
You're 25... And I have some questions.. sorry but I want to know..
Do we ever get out of our emo phase
(Please tell me we do)
Are we In college?
Do we succeed in art or are we majoring in something that makes us miserable in order to create a better life for the kids I insist that we won't have?
Are you still waking up every Saturday morning at 4 am to make grilled cheese and watch Disney films until 10 o clock? Or do we grow up?
Did we become who my parents want me to be or did we decide to follow our heart and not care if we like the same gender?
Dear me in nine years, do we still go by Katt instead of Katalyna? I'm sorry but I want to know... Do we get over our obsession with coffee? Do we ever stop craving the weird things like peanut butter and oreos, sour cream and hot fries, or apples and Chile powder?
Dear me in nine years I'm sorry but I want to do we ever stop caring so much about everything or do we have daily anxiety attacks? Do things get better? I'm sorry but I want to know...
Sep 7, 2016
Sep 7, 2016 at 10:38 AM UTC
It's 11:34 pm
and I'm drinking by myself again
because I'm 21 now
still living at my parent's house
and I don't know when I'll move out.
I'm in a permanent panic about my education
because I ended up hating what I was majoring in.
I still don't know what I want to do with my life
my heart is heavy with strife.
When I was little my dreams were plenty and full
of color but now they are always dull.
I can't imagine myself having a career
so now I'm stuck at home for a year
working part-time at a retail job
and doing my best not to sob
at every little upsetting thing
and I can no longer sing.
My throat has been hurting for far too long
is this really the end of my song?
Jun 13, 2018
Jun 13, 2018 at 12:08 AM UTC
I'm a poor psych student majoring in emotions- lots of them- and awkward missed opportunities.
I guess you could say I'm unstable and in need of a massive outlet
Or I just need to grow up...
Dec 11, 2018
Dec 11, 2018 at 2:45 PM UTC
The ocean's powerful dark waves
Spit into the billowing winds
Splash onto our already tearful faces
The ocean is big
We went for a dip
But found ourselves out of land's sight
I feel these pinches
and bites
of the world's stammering mouth
surrounding the waves and
preventing us from resurfacing
shaded by the sails of the sinking boats
the drowning economy
the flailing political states that forgot how to swim
the last breathes of human rights
and the Earth is frightened as a child
as the disease of humanity
quickly devours her
and we race her to our own deaths
As if it was a friendly game of Marco Polo
We can see blots of our trivial goals
as we come up for air
But oxygen doesn't visit us so frequently anymore
Maybe because we didn't invite him to our dinner party and took him for granted
My dreams of being part of things that happen on a big scale
Are realized
We are in the center of the whirlpool
and our toxic boats are pulling us down with them
No matter how small we are
what we have built was too big
To avoid
I tried to climb the trees
take my loved ones to the tops
but any attempts to salvage were useless
The trees were not on our side
even if we were on theirs
I would prefer to drown in water
Than this.
Mar 30, 2014
Mar 30, 2014 at 7:54 PM UTC
Walking up in my college dorm
Yeah,my life ,it was pretty normal
Looking for a date to the spring formal
Wasn't worried 'bout noting eles, no majoring in undecided
Notebook full of bad songs I was writing
Never dreamed anyone else would like'em
Now they're sitting on a Wal-Mart shelf
Ain't it funny how life changes
You wake up, ain't nothing the same and life changes
You can't stop it, just hop on the train and
You never know what's gonna happen
You make your plans and you hear God laughing
Oct 30, 2018
Oct 30, 2018 at 2:42 PM UTC
EVEN OUR SMILES RHYMED
even our smiles
rhymed
once upon a time
these dunes
that summer
us students of kisses
both of us
majoring in the inexact science
of the making of love
all that love
now only photographs
never ever looked at
not realising that
we had it
when we had it
these dunes that summer
now just a seascape
like any other
stripped of memory
the sea merely sea
the sand only sand
hard now to think
what I meant to you
what you meant to me
somewhere along the years
we lost
each other
Feb 28, 2019
Feb 28, 2019 at 6:33 PM UTC
Let's give big red his due.
He has accomplished things he stated he can do.
Except, he accepted an economy that was already rising good.
So let's not go overboard like h wasn't already blessed.
His problem is just his administrative office mess.
A crook here.
A crook there.
Various folks majoring in spending tales.
Crooked deals, investment steals.
But in life crooks love crooks.
Eventually, he will have to man up.
Especially with his lawyer trying to save himself.
Many of them afraid to go to jail.
They cut a deal and spill as much as they feel.
He will be written next to others in history books.
Just remember in truth that crooks love crooks.
Jul 27, 2018
Jul 27, 2018 at 12:30 PM UTC