"practicality" poems
Before there was anything that mattered everything that would ever be existed , it was the essence of totality , it was without dimensional constriction or necessitated form . Optimistically speaking time had no relative realism to it’s progression because realistically nothing had happened yet . As it continued it became according to it’s innate inflections as a functionally integrable form . The questionably understandable nature of it’s conjunction was an omnipotent directive beyond necessitated action or morphological construction . The enigmatic consciousness of it’s relatively interrelated conception was spontaneous and yet it continued without elemental omniscience.
As the relative complexity of it’s interrelations evolved dimensional consistence was born. Humanly understandable laws of physical integration governed many facets of it’s conjunction yet the totality of it’s ramification was beyond humanly realistic conjecture .
The organic morphology of biological ontogeny was a conceptually reflective derivative of functional physical mechanics yet it’s diversity exceeded it’s physical complexity , understanding evolved . Relatively extraneous interpolations of adhesively practical extremity succeeded in a hierarchy of functionally integrable forms .
Retrospectively speaking pragmatic practicality is a humanly rational possibility . Rational logic can conceive of individually totalitarian structural forms , yet the implosive nature of their rational cohesiveness becomes a practical partiality due to the diversity of their definitive impetus .
Perhaps the essence of our being is the logical counterpart for the matrix of our subjectively conclusive social fragmentation , or perhaps we are evolutionally incapable of cumulatively rational correlation. Problematic diversity could be perfectible on an individually infinite level or contrarily perhaps ubiquitous causality is the ultimate survivor.
In any case it is beyond our subjugatively rational cohesive coercion to intercede en masse on our own behalf as an integrated unit. Our conceptual abilities have been thwarted by the unmitigatably individual nature of our extraneous conclusiveness .
Aug 12, 2018
Aug 12, 2018 at 5:15 PM UTC
Supposing that we lit some candles.
One for each person on this earth,
we would blow one out at a funeral
and light one up at a birth.
The world would grow darker
every time we lost a fighter
but with every new born baby
it gets just that bit brighter.
If you travelled into a city that was dark and gritty
you'd know that they didn't have many in their committee.
But.. If the light was brilliant and bright
it would send a beaming message throughout the night.
Saying "We are here! And we are alive!"
Not wanting to be alone we endeavor to collide
and form one giant, shining beacon
that burns so fierce we're sure it can't weaken
We sparkle and crackle and bend nature to our whim
the mighty fire so strong it just had to gave in.
With it we forged iron and buildings, cars and computers
and lit paths of lives to guide commuters
We lit up the universe as far as we could see
Improving our lives greatly with technology
obsessed with our professed fixture on practicality
we completely forgot about morality
Our fires forged weapons which we aimed next door
In one swift movement we saw the effects of war
6,000,000 candles extinguished
over arguments on which light is most distinguished
So fixated on this light we blinded our eyes
and the candle smoke filled the skies.
We thought candles were good, they elevated us higher
but now all we have is thick smoke and fire.
The fire consuming all in its route
the root of our lives follow suite.
It's eating the oxygen and burning the grass
the sand is melting and forming to glass.
The glass it shatters into a thousand pieces
more candles are lighting, the temperature increases
The resources decline, as do the candles
buried in ash a hundred thousand scandals.
Now only a few lit candles remain
as they slowly melt and fade away.
Nov 8, 2012
Nov 8, 2012 at 1:39 PM UTC
You are the practicality that keeps me grounded;
I am the spontaneity that drags you along.
You are the reason to my irrationality;
I am the tumult to your calm.
You are the answer to my questions;
I am the words to your quiet deeds.
You are the engineer I cherish;
I am the bookworm you esteem.
You are the chef I rate as top;
I am the baker you adore.
You are the handyman I can count on;
I am the seamstress you prefer.
They say opposites attract, and it seems that might be true.
Like two pieces from the puzzles we both love,
We fit together seamlessly.
To be cliche, you complete me,
But in ways I never knew weren't whole.
Apr 3, 2011
Apr 3, 2011 at 8:34 PM UTC
what happened to all the feeling? am I becoming less and less real to you? can't you see that I have a heart and it's dying because of you? you say things I know you don't mean,
please don't mean them.
it only seemed like yesterday when we were laughing without a doubt of whether the future would swallow us up. i still am not quite bothered by it just yet. but if I ask you all about tomorrow you'll say you're unsure.
you won't plead for me to stay anyways, so why should I bother waiting?
why should I bother pinning down my insides to submit to the practicality of my own mind?
why is there an ambivalent voice telling me that this isn't about how I feel, but instead a test whether my love is real?
To stay means to trudge through the thoughts and thorns heavily scraping my chest
To love means to set aside what might benefit me, and instead continually asking "how are you?" even if I know you'll answer that you're more than fine.
And it probably won't bother you that I'll fade away sooner into the sidelines, where the present is the future, and I remember how unsure you always sound--- but that's alright. I still just might be hoping for the best of us.
Feb 2, 2015
Feb 2, 2015 at 10:03 AM UTC
Two furry snake skins.
The material keeps my feet warm and I miss them when they're gone!
Comfort and style over practicality don't leave them on too long!
Odd ones make me smile.
Must be replaced once in a while.
May 18, 2015
May 18, 2015 at 3:46 AM UTC
Before there was anything that mattered everything that would ever be existed , it was the essence of totality , it was without dimensional constriction or necessitated form . Optimistically speaking time had no relative realism to it’s progression because realistically nothing had happened yet . As it continued it became according to it’s innate inflections as a functionally integrable form . The questionably understandable nature of it’s conjunction was an omnipotent directive beyond necessitated action or morphological construction . The enigmatic consciousness of it’s relatively interrelated conception was spontaneous and yet it continued without elemental omniscience .
As the relative complexity of it’s interrelations evolved dimensional consistence was born. Humanly understandable laws of physical integration governed many facets of it’s conjunction yet the totality of it’s ramification was beyond humanly realistic conjecture .
The organic morphology of biological ontogeny was a conceptually reflective derivative of functional physical mechanics yet it’s diversity exceeded it’s physical complexity , understanding evolved . Relatively extraneous interpolations of adhesively practical extremity succeeded in a hierarchy of functionally integrable forms .
Retrospectively speaking pragmatic practicality is a humanly rational possibility . Rational logic can conceive of individually totalitarian structural forms , yet the implosive nature of their rational cohesiveness becomes a practical partiality due to the diversity of their definitive impetus .
Perhaps the essence of our being is the logical counterpart for the matrix of our subjectively conclusive social fragmentation , or perhaps we are evolutionally incapable of cumulatively rational correlation . Problematic diversity could be perfectible on an individually infinite level or contrarily perhaps ubiquitous causality is the ultimate survivor .
In any case it is beyond our subjugatively rational cohesive coercion to intercede en masse on our own behalf as an integrated unit. Our conceptual abilities have been thwarted by the unmitigatably individual nature of our extraneous conclusiveness .
Mar 8, 2013
Mar 8, 2013 at 4:14 PM UTC
Practicality is the reality
of ignominious totality
the devices of all sizes
and the grammatical mentality
of systematic duality.
Punctuation is the **********
the *********** of every generation
the permutation and saturation
of wordsmith temptation for re-calibration
the aberration and consternation
that leads to misinformation
and condemnation and annihilation
of the constellation colloquial conversation
the abomination of language urbanization
the fermentation and ionization
of linguistic complications
the desolation of commas and semi-colons
the affirmation of their vs they're
the augmentation of amalgamation
is just the lyrical ************
of a hooded basketball top nation
the culmination of devastation
the gestation and interpolation
that leads to appreciation isolation
and justification acceleration
the modification and assimilation
of poorly-worded implementation
and the contamination of myriad exploration
alienation in illumination
punctuation is the salvation of documentation
against the tides of violation
and the extermination of regurgitation
the classification of discrimination
and last but not least
the liberation of misrepresentation.
Jul 3, 2014
Jul 3, 2014 at 10:49 AM UTC
I try to sing this melody
Of my own fidelity
But I lack this morality
That tells me the reality
Of a life in harmony
With spirits heavenly
I am my own entity
And when I show this identity
It has no truth to humanity
So I speak in brevity
To hide the perplexity
That only few conceptually
Embrace with full integrity
To soar in the clouds joyfully
Like the eagles in serenity
And the gods of heredity
We are the truthful society
Yet know one knows it verily
I will continue transcendently
Like the lotus in her artistry
I will paint mindfully
The visage of prosperity
In all its beauty
So vividly
Until I rest solemnly
In my garden above the galaxy
Where all who truthfully
Flew with divinity
In utter tranquility
While this world unfaithfully
Decayed presently
In the lies of commonality
In this globe of duality
Don’t sing this parody
Avoid the practicality
Your song is skillfully
Hiding from the animosity
You will have your symphony
In a sky of pure unity
Aug 23, 2012
Aug 23, 2012 at 2:24 PM UTC
Society is a paradox
body shaming those who are
"too thin"
or
"overly thick"
Everyone lives behind a
plastic bubble
known as social media
lacking authenticity
& practicality
*** is nothing but a "game"
and dormancy is encouraged
while being fit & healthy is the ultimate title
If you believe in something you are told to proclaim it
unless it's not what the world wants you to say
Are these really social norms?
Mar 1, 2015
Mar 1, 2015 at 4:38 PM UTC
Marines call to say hello,
impress. I'm over 35 but my boys
19. They could go: Hide!
One moment spent tying a shoe,
another dying, gunshot wound or poisoned food.
Events in their mere chronology
make no sense.
And the details of yr dad's life don't either.
Late night
quiet cigarette smoker. But next day,
the butts cleaned into the can. Who does that?
Lady in a skirt or overalls rolled up - cigarette smoke.
Now it's yr dad.
Yr dad who
watches for war.
Even if Uncle Sam disbands, dissolves
we the people will still be here and stay involved
with North America. The purple mountains majesty
and shining seas
little people, big people, brown, red, and white. Addicted
to action movies.
Perhaps there is no choice. One must sit, sitting still
as a buddha, sitting bull.
I can imagine myself and all others - drivers, voters, runners -
little fetal muscles
at first. Metastasizing. What's it called when the cell
at the tip of the *****
or organism, divides, and the ***** grows? It's called
girl on a bicycle.
I find I make no sense. Her **** a practicality to her, is
delicious to me
a miraculous sea lettuce or snapdragon. You've heard it before.
A moral dilemma
wrapped in robes and silks and odors. Yet, come close,
and business beckons
work gets done, life goes on, hair grows in, we go on
vacation
the Marine Corps calls, desperate for new fetuses to teach
purposeful workmanlike killing
I'll do my own killing, thanks, when violence comes to the
neighborhood
if I've got your back
your back's gotten and if I'm on point, the point's taken.
One world under God invisible with liberty and justice for all who
Art in heaven
what the hell's his name.
Nemesis.
Hysterical.
The small war of an especially inept empire. The world's too big
to swallow as the Krauts and Nips found out. Empire
is self-correcting. Them dark-skinned mustachioed *********
who can't fix their own electricity seem to be kicking our *****
pert good. As did the ***** before them. All to the good. A
good lesson to know and then we all become friends following
the brawl. We apparently cannot skip the fight. It must
be fought, and **** the girls.
Aug 10, 2015
Aug 10, 2015 at 8:24 PM UTC
Defying the consensus of complacency,
And the enantiomorphic political practicality,
Candidates embrace their vacillating indexicality.
Spouting thrift store self reliance sapientiality,
Telling lores of cultural compatibility.
Hope filled promises of economic suitability,
Aligned with institutional feasibility.
Packaged in over-inclusive catchall empty signifiers
Strewn across all media screens, communal utilitarian plan flyers.
Requesting no need for responsiveness,
For a vote no longer dictates precedence,
In the age of social media endemic presence relevance.
PFL
Jul 3, 2016
Jul 3, 2016 at 3:40 AM UTC
We hardly fit with our jagged edges
and our heavy breathing, our holes
don't even coincide. Our symmetry
is imperfect, as imperfection can be.
We can't call it home. We're too
edgy to ever do so. It doesn't even
come close to that feeling of
comfort and love. We're not in love,
nor are we friends by any means.
Hardly acquaintances. We wouldn't
lift a finger a finger to help the other
No, this isn't home, love or friendship.
Our weapons are still on us. The poison's
hidden in the secret compartments of the
rings we gifted each other. We never
believed in anything but practicality.
I specially sharpened the blades I
brought with me. I know he loaded
some 'special' bullets in his gun.
We deal like this, like rival gang leaders
It's the only thing that has remained
the same through all these years,
frighteningly comforting in it's stagnancy.
It doesn't even come close to companionship.
It's definition lies somewhere between
hatred, addiction and need. Quiet intimacy
will prevail between us and anyone who walks in,
feels like they're intruding on something a bit
more private and clandestine. Though no one
notices, our spines don't relax even once.
Aug 6, 2012
Aug 6, 2012 at 7:48 AM UTC
sometimes-(sometimes);
i love you on the lips
moon garden
paradise hills and november
and it's temple
template of our own world of wild tales .. sometimes
sometimes twine
sometimes silent running sometimes engine purl
under our dark star
the wind rises ; blood and black lace
the pace of our isle
raw and in keeping
sometimes the lighthouse taps
blinking metronome and we use habits of coherence
and practicality and partnership
in some dark corners
alternatives
on another earth
seats an uninvited guest
viewing
(i feel.. sometimes)
Oct 23, 2023
Oct 23, 2023 at 6:30 PM UTC
*
*PART I
Let the world be
- against our LOVE
Let the society also be so
- against our LOVE
Let the laws, rules, regulations be
- against our LOVE
Let the religions, scriptures, gurus be
- against our LOVE
Let our friends, colleagues and
Family, relatives be
- against our LOVE
Let even YOU and me be
- against our LOVE
Let them be, Let us be..
Let everyone be
- against our LOVE
Yet it is NOT going to be
"The end of our LOVE"
PART II
Every "against" is just a gray smoke
Trying to pretend to be a blue sky
"They"- the one who are against LOVE
If they are eager to crucify Jesus
If they are eager to lynch Mansoor
If they are eager to poison Meera
If they are eager to throw LOVERz
In the pyre of FIRE
Remember this...
The air around us is "LOVE"
The whole world shall burn
In the grief of two LOVERz flames
So don't worry, it is not going to be
"The end of our LOVE"
PART III
We all know, we all know
That the enemies of LOVE are many
They are educated, smart, intelligent
Powerful, leaders and identity groups etc.
Those who can reason, argue & debate,
Rationalize with practicality & pragmatism
But they do not even have a heart
To feel the trueness & purity of our LOVE
So don't worry, it is not going to be
"The end of our LOVE"
PART IV
What comes out of our LOVE
Is the most Powerful & Almighty NATURE
LOVE in my heart - is not ruled by anyone
LOVE in YOUR heart - is not ruled by anyone
LOVE in our heart - is "OUR" LOVE
It is not even ruled by us
So don't worry, it is not going to be
"The end of our LOVE"
PART V
Today those who pretend to be masters
Today those who pretend to be leaders
Today those who pretend to be gurus
Those who pretend to "I know it ALL"
They won't be here tomorrow to live
They are only passengers of life
Traveling illegally without tickets
Because they are living without LOVE
So don't worry, it is not going to be
"The end of our LOVE"
PART VI
Do not forget, Do not forget
LOVE has taken centuries
It has taken ages
From the garden of Eden
Where Adam - Eve ate the apple
Since Romeo-Zuliet died
When Layla-Majnun wailed in longing
LOVERz have poured their breathe
Into every living thing on earth
So don't worry, it is not going to be
"The end of our LOVE"
PART VII
The breath you take is of LOVE
The breath I take is of LOVE
The breath the whole world takes is of LOVE
Who are we to say "YES" and "NO" to LOVE?
LOVE does not even take our permissions
So don't worry, it is not going to be
"The end of our LOVE"
PART VIII
LOVE is not even this moment "NOW"
LOVE is not a slave of any constitution
LOVE can't be imprisoned in any identities:
Religious, regions, gender, caste,
Class, society, color, race, age etc.
LOVE is not owned by anyone
LOVE is not even owned by LOVERz
So don't worry, it is not going to be
"The end of our LOVE"*
*
Jun 28, 2019
Jun 28, 2019 at 11:35 PM UTC
Staring at a reflection
Watching for clues
Waiting for signals
But I'm never allowed to lose
Weight
Fat
No flat stomach left
And thin hairs mar
The one you're left with
Your body protrudes underneath your
Bra-line and
It makes you want to cry
Your butts still good
But you fearfully watch the
Jiggle of your thigh
Your body is all you've ever had
Your teeth are yellow and
Your hair loves to be bad
your nose is chipped and angled
Your skin mangled with spots and
Scars
Marred
Imperfect
Only the mirror makes you smile
But photos lack the style of
'Attractiveness'
You feel you can only look like you
In person
But now you have to search for the good
You know they would have you do that.
Okay, I like the practicality of my body.
Where I have stood, there has stood
Health, a wealth of love in
Laughter lines
I love the lines of my muscles
Count my contours,
Feel I'm fine when I breath in my
Cheekbones, hate the stress filled
Frown lines
Never forget the time I
Looked and found myself
Too thin
Too tired
Too wired up
To find myself
Too injured.
Never regret
And never forget
The point I realised
At least imperfect
Allows for 'happy'
Jul 15, 2014
Jul 15, 2014 at 7:48 PM UTC
I tend to romanticize,
I romanticize friendships and love and all relations,
Makes them a little more than what they seem,
Doesn't it?
And maybe that's what the flaw of romanticizing life is,
Once you start romanticizing it you ignore the practicality,
That the real-life beholds,
One part of you stuck at the expectations,
And other tries to avoid the befalling of this little kingdom,
Your mind survives in,
So you romanticize bad memories too,
As if you were really dead every second someone scolded you,
Or crumpled your ***** of life,
And in this loop of romanticizing, you end up hurting everyone,
So you tell yourself to wake up,
You force yourself to be awake,
And when you finally are,
You see there never has existed a premise,
Where you were playing your orchestra.
Jan 2, 2021
Jan 2, 2021 at 11:05 PM UTC
Passion in society is presently temporary
They say passion is an emotion
A state of mind
A stage
A honeymoon
Star-crossed
Blinded
Struck by love
Intense, yet fleeting
But passion used to mean
Forever.
Love, at a distance
All encompassing disease
Debilitating
Weakening
It started from your heart
Branched out
Reached and spread with force
Until your entire being
Everything you were
Was consumed.
You were a sick man
If you were struck with passion
You had reached the end
You were hopelessly, and honestly absorbed
When passion meant forever
And marriage,
Used to be more for practicality
Than passion
To build a life
Maturely
To drive the kids to soccer practice,
Pay the electric bill,
To be together every day
With another person
Left no room
For *** on the kitchen floor
With the kids to walk in on
It did not permit
The ripping of clothing
When you'd only have to throw it in the wash
With a ballerina costume later
The real test of a relationship is not distance
Sneaking away in the night
Stealing kisses in the dark
Sneaking away
When it's exciting,
The real test is the everyday,
The monotonous aspects
Living with someone
Noticing things you never did before
It's terrifying because you might start to see
The passion pass
Jan 6, 2015
Jan 6, 2015 at 8:16 PM UTC
**It seemingly oscillates from
The realm of practicality to that of blatant absurdity
A fearfully bold doubting Thomas of sorts
Embroiled in self-esteem issues
In constant conflict with itself
Sitting on the fence always
A pleasant consolation
And being a daredevil a fantasy
Nurtured in the remotest miniscule part of the brain
Tell me this aint fearless cowardice**
Jul 24, 2013
Jul 24, 2013 at 2:33 AM UTC
Hey darlin’, you make my soul feel like flying to the outer depths of the solar system, so that I may float effortlessly between time and dimension and truly feel alive.
Float here next to me, share this space with me.
There’s an asteroid river spiraling over our heads; swirling video game galaxies, and marshmallow-flavored stars.
They can’t tell us what to believe in anymore and they can’t make me substitute practicality for dreaming.
They can’t tell us what to believe in anymore.
We’re burning this city tonight, and we’re using your limits as fuel.
Jun 1, 2011
Jun 1, 2011 at 5:23 PM UTC
VOICES IN THE NIGHT
Seeking safety while others are sleeping,the rest in a dispute with a familiar game of whether the mind or body will win
When losing traction will another soul comprehend even a fraction ,meaningless to many but a few keep hope in scope
Planning and practicality save souls in print but real people have understanding and offer their own spin
Wondering from the middle travels outward, east or west north to south even an Aussie or from across the pond can give hope
Giving is receiving simple samples offer light, taken in can block blight,going out producing an unknown grin
Faceless names a soul behind each keystroke, varying opinions offer a new vote
Hidden bond often easy to find ,meshed together once lonely issues have now found a twin
Conversing in space some silent while other seems lost in a race,never really knowing when they will find that meaningful antidote
Suddenly interaction can become a tempting attraction ,exposing hidden emotions a new devotion,silent song into a joyous hymn
Far apart minds now riding a mutual rift, easier to make light if others have the same plight
Randomness can rule when minds are often short, Once a great thought soon will abort
hopefully not lost forever if we tug to hard on that string
Absent minds left meandering once locked down now offering possibilities ,growing with knowledge now developing with each insight. R.C.
Apr 21, 2018
Apr 21, 2018 at 7:10 AM UTC
We will fulfill LOVE's promises
The sun, the moon, the stars, the night
We will fulfill LOVE's vows
The flowers, the clouds, the breeze, the birds
Our LOVE will remain like this nature's bounty
When fate made us meet
We met at the horizon
Where the sky meets the earth
When LOVE happened between us
The BLUE became red, yellow and orange
We've experienced a blissful heaven
Where all inner-flowers bloom
And our heart-bees hum
As if we have found our SOUL
Made for each other
We became each other's
Candle and light
Moon and stars
Clouds and rain
Sun and sunshine
Sadness and tears
Joys and happiness
Our souls-connect awakened
All colors of dormant LOVE
Like a single rainbow of VIBGYOR
Come and let us become ONE forever
Let us fulfill our LOVE's promises
Let us fulfill our LOVE's vows
Even as strangers -
Our LOVE recognized each other
Our happiness and sadness merged
Into LOVE's joyful tears
Our LOVE story shows the world
True LOVE never dies
True LOVE lives forever
Such mad and true LOVERS
Like Romeo-Zuliet, Layla Majnun -
Our LOVE re-creates LOVE's essentials
How much ever the mind tries to reason out
"Oh heart, please do not LOVE"
But...
Like the moon glowing
In dark sky of the night
Like the sun shining
In the blue skies of the day
Our LOVE could not be hidden
By any human practicality prisons
The heart where LOVE flames are ignited
The coals catches the ember glow
Is the sanctum of LOVE's idol
The molten lava of LOVE
Melts the life's hardened stone-rocks
Let our life take us any where
Unaware of the journey
And/or the destination
Let it not change our LOVE a bit
In attempt to live life
Seeking "Spiritual enlightenment"
Let us worship with devotion
Our LOVE's divine blessings
Because...
LOVE is our NIRVANA
Our bond of LOVE is strong
As strong as nature's permanence
We will unite in ONE-LOVE within our core
Like two galaxies merging into ONE Black-Hole
Jun 29, 2018
Jun 29, 2018 at 11:41 PM UTC
What are friends?
Are "friends" just specks of moments shared,
times when you feel cared
for or are they real persons?
Do friends make you cry,
make you feel hated,
wonder if this was an end belated,
or are they just the good smiles and laughter?
Do friends leave,
or are they forever?
Do they remain a part of your life
even though you're a traveler?
Why do we have to give up? Why do we have to move on?
This so-called action of maturity, of dignity, of practicality,
Wiping years and tears as though they were far gone,
Refusing to let anything hurt just a little too slowly.
But isn't that sacrilegy?
Killing something sacred for the sake of an easier way,
A ****** of moments, reducing "friends" into just a diluted memory,
Tossing trust - mutual trust - into that pile of yesterday.
When we separate, when we fly to different corners,
When decades go by and all we have left is the past,
Are those still friends, or are they just matters
for the lonely heart to ponder on how it went by so fast?
I never thought my heart would ever come to this place
where doubts are shadows and the only lights left are two
really bright ones, but so many have flickered dead,
out of space,
What used to be a burning room of blue.
Jul 7, 2014
Jul 7, 2014 at 6:26 AM UTC
You might be **** even kind...
But I care not for your ego.
I might as well be blind.
You might be interested in many things.
None of which light my fire.
A hollow heart filled with empty blings.
I live to build and design.
Practicality is so hard to find.
I want to understand the world.
Very few share my mind.
I'm simply complicated.
And there is no shortcut to my desire.
I'm after the impossible.
But that is all I require.
Oct 24, 2015
Oct 24, 2015 at 1:14 PM UTC
If I were the principle of my school
I would bring some changes to the rules
A school where every child can dare
To think freely and be their true selves
I would give the a problem to solve
By themselves.A chance to evolve
To grow., with all the senses involved
I don't want parrots belching memorized words
Students aren't sheep, teachers aren't shepherds
I would want them to live in an open world
Where they can question everything under the Sun
Bookish knowledge is not all
There's more to life than Newton's laws
We are artists, us human not robots
Scientist, philosophers, why should we be restricted to some selected thoughts
I would want basic life skills
To be taught to every pupil
So that when they leave these gates
They aren't left confused and dazed
We must teach them empathy
Theory gives way to practicality
So that when they got no help
They can think for themselves
Don't sacrifice the individual
At the altar of peer-pressure
These would be my principles
If I were my school's principal.
Mar 4, 2021
Mar 4, 2021 at 12:19 AM UTC
She wears it around her neck on a chain. Safe in the only home it's known, smug between her *******
A key to her first diary, where she wrote about her hopes and her dreams. About her love for the boy down the street and about how she lost her virginity and cried for a week.
A key to her trousseau, holding warmth from the blankets and linens, practicality from the dishware, love from the Shakespeare poems and long awaited hope from the yellowing lace.
A key to her first home, with the white picket fence and the swing set in the back. Where her children would grow up, where laughter would ring and loneliness would echo in the halls
A key to her favorite jewelry box, with the diamond earrings and macaroni necklace. The discarded ring that she had to ask for and that never quite fit
He knows the key is there, he's seen it for 3 decades. He knows the devastation that is in store if he uses it.
Its the key to open her heart.
Jul 14, 2014
Jul 14, 2014 at 11:27 AM UTC