"superintendent" poems
This letter, is to inform you, about a
bomb threat
that we received this, morning. Name of a Name
Unified Consolidated ISD,
a State-Recognized School of Somethingness,
Where Kids Come First under the theme of
All The Kids All The Curriculum All The Time
is committed, to the safety and education
of all our students and We Are Number One,
Go #Thundercatbears!, ‘Cause We are #All-Hashtagged
in Unity and Oneness. We also, want
to clearly communicate with split infinitives
And crazy commas all over the place
to parents about safety issues when they
get found out arise.
This morning, a phone call, was received,
by the receptionist at
The-Latest-Name-Held-in-Place-with-Velcro-Until-the-Next-Name-Change
Elementary School and Essential Spirit
Dreams New Dawn Progress Learning and
Technology Center of the Future
stating a
bomb
was present, on the campus.
After conferring with the Threat Assessment Team,
The Standard Response Protocol team,
the Chinkypin-Lizard Lick Police Department parked in the handicapped spaces at Tia Jolene’s Goremay Eats ‘n’ Bokays out next to the Interstate,
the cheerleader sponsors,
Facebook,
Twitter,
our attorneys,
and Superintendent Dr. Hamestus Goodoleboy “Spike” Ponsonby III,
the students were rapidly, and efficiently evacuated
to a safe area up in the football bleachers
where they would be more obvious targets
and the school was professionally and thoroughly
swept for anything suspicious and untoward.
During this time,
when no students were in danger,
another call was received stating that gunshots
were fired in the school. There were no gunshots,
fired in the school and
no children were in danger at any time.
Currently, we’re are is allowing students,
who were never in any danger,
to return to school as usual
where there was never any danger at any time.
We will have extra counselors and therapists available
if students or parents needs supports are
counsolining in spelling ‘n’ sentence structure.
The students were never in any danger at any time.
All threats to our school where
their was never any danger
and students who were never in any danger
will be taken seriously immediately
and thoroughly and investigated
thoroughly and fully except for that call
last week that we managed to keep covered up.
We wanted to inform you of the correct facts
because our correct facts are the only facts
so you can discuss them with your child/ren
Of any race, *** color, creed, religion,
or gender identification or not
and emphasize the seriousness of our facts,
which are the only facts. If you discover
Any facts untoward or out of place please contact us
At the district office at
*** *** xxxx ext ***
or the Chinkypin - Lizard Lick Police Department
immediately and thoroughly.
No children were in, danger at any time.
Feb 20, 2019
Feb 20, 2019 at 5:07 PM UTC
This morning you opened a door for me
And asked me rather sweetly how I was
And I stared at my face reflected above your shoulder
And scanned it for emotion
Before nodding and saying fine.
You walked away to some masculine class
Where you lifted weights and complained about errant girlfriends
While I went to the restroom
Locked myself in a stall
And puked.
I suppose your dad made excuses before you could
I bet he assured you that it wouldn’t affect whatever sports you did at the time
I bet he thought about slipping a crisp bill in an envelope
And setting it on the superintendent's desk.
And I know you joked to your cocky little friends
That the ***** took everything too seriously
Because after all
You were only joking
Right?
The superintendent looked over glasses and pink slips of paper
And assured me that he knew your parents
And in fact your father had given him a root canal the day before
And he was very sure this was all some misunderstanding
And it would be resolved quickly and quietly.
I had to steel myself
I expected it
Waited for it
And there it was.
You probably just liked me.
That was the problem
You were so very confused
And ever-so-innocent
And a student who brought so much good publicity
Couldn’t possibly be a detriment
Could he?
It was just like in elementary
Where the bruises on my wrist
Were written away as a love bite
A little sign of devotion
And I should be grateful.
I hear you’re off to a college on the coast
For free
Even though you stole answers off my papers
And glances down my shirt.
I hope you enjoy it
I hope you pretend to care about physics
And I hope the essays you buy are worth the money
And I hope the parties are lively
And the ***** rich.
But when you slip
In the backseat of your Mercedes
Because you liked her too much
Don’t believe what they tell you
I' ll know your guilt
As clearly as the moonlight caught in her watering eyes
And I will make you know it.
Until then
I’ll square my shoulders
Rinse the taste from my mouth
Glare at myself in the fluorescent light
And will the emotion away
One more time.
Dec 19, 2013
Dec 19, 2013 at 9:18 PM UTC
Permanence
Of all things that humans hold most dear it has to be that great priceless yearned for truth it lasts
One lone western star was framed through my window my question what did it say nothing but this
The stars are Gods fixed cosmic markers he has each named he creates as he is all hold fasts
Find it not remarkable you are eternal flowering in his garden the blessed that sleep marble shows them
Movies at one time played up the theme so richly the only goal leave a mark don’t be forgotten
Capture this image God says I have engraved you in my palms know if your parents forget I won’t
Next time the enemy says your nobody your finished just picture God’s open hands you are begotten
I see his folded hands I see him doing a childrens check on them let see the Midwest the I’s the R’s the D’s
The star prompted thinking of home the San Gabriel’s that shield Los Angeles these mighty peaks
The L.A. basin as you sweep in on a plane the lights of homes are endless spiritual darkness pervades
Asuzu Street 06 from Wales to Topeka then southern C burst into holy flame the God of Acts speaks
Stirred shaking greater than San Andreas ever could a holy ghost Tsunami brought life everlasting
My prayer my dream is to return even on Pico Ave hold street meetings with bullets flying if necessary
I slept in a field with the cows when I got out of the service at Ill camp, district superintendent objected
God homered it the man of God said words to one whose father is a drunkard mother a harlot emissary
Was his prophecy a great one for God Forty years I waited God spoke six years ago you haven’t done
Life’s work yet another preacher said you can change the hands on the clock but not the time you don’t
Know only Joseph speaks from his great dream to my smaller but still a dream I will with God be one
In purpose and duty and in victory I will overcome not alone but this country will burn with holy fire
Soon it is in the word that endures is pure perfect and permanent even more than the firmament
Nov 24, 2011
Nov 24, 2011 at 4:09 PM UTC
the girls huddle,
wallflower themselves
away from the bell-toll
of mean-girl chatter
gucci gang comes on,
& a few blood-boys
come out with juul-destoryed lungs
and sip their smuggled *** punch
someone shouts 'begone, thot'
& instead, i vanish,
into summer-stretched air.
you're only young once, &
then there's the in-between
of reunion. the late night fiends stay
until the sun peaks
through the cracks in the
façade of adulthood.
finally, somewhere near
the end of the night,
the intercom comes on.
the superintendent asks us to leave,
the bathroom is filled with brûléed vapor
& the ground has become as much of an ashtray
as the dirtied mouthes of those still dancing,
drunk enough to numb the memories of
the worst three years
of our collective life.
when the chorus of
**** that, **** you
fades out,
it's because the system is
crackling again
& everyone's head is turning to the soft voice asking;
where are you now?
what have you done?
are you perfect yet?
Jul 5, 2018
Jul 5, 2018 at 12:54 PM UTC
Long walks under the sun.
Tender brains in unsure men,
A breeze caresses the pines
A rocky ocean shore below
Nothing to do,
Just somewhere to go.
Red shirts, marihuana, alcohol.
Friendship and love
Blossoming through time,
Piercing
The blue sky dressed above
By some superintendent devil's.
For these memories
Act like drugs
On my depressed brain now.
It was long ago,
Yet I'm still here.
That church eating away the
Sunlight, had a christ with no legs
Three years later I understand.
Memories are echos,
We hear them clear
We know deep inside what we
Want to hear
But the shore gets higher
And longer and wide
The sound is now a Cowbell, or a stain,
A dead mouse and
her dry dead remains,
A footstep in sand that left
before I said it could.
Which sunk into the sea,
before I wished it should.
What are we left with
When we feel regret?
I feel
like I've let something go,
Somehow, and what?
How can I know
So I linger here
On my empty bed,
Without any happiness
And blood in my head
Those red shirts popping
everywhere I feel
I am abandonned
Buried away
I shouldn't shouldn't have hurried
I should have stayed.
Yet it's all over,
Those men are gone.
They're out on the ocean
Singing new songs.
When satan is nye
Wild wheat is ****
Human is animal
Friendship is seed
Dec 12, 2015
Dec 12, 2015 at 8:51 PM UTC
Furthermore, began St Anne by the Sea,
And a spotty Doctor Newcastle got down on one knee.
I hear the old folk *******
I hear ducks up the chimney.
I'm eating hymn books and confetti;
Sweating mud now.
The very nearly possible was there;
Lovely laughing Uncle April was there;
The plump thigh from your thrilling island was there also;
The Balsam Boy,
The basil canary,
The mustard customer from Rhyl
We dated a wasting blue on the old shopping hill.
You had been with the Superintendent of cream
In the back rooms of Matthew August Ltd.
In private I was brown because of my tinnitus.
My child was only half written
According to those forty enormous Liverpools,
According to those three vaginal cannonballs.
Horace Horace and his delicious old porridge was the inability setting.
Thought clumsiness was in fashion back then.
Upstairs could hear the downstairs *******
Now mock Tudor glands have all the critical opportunity
And hands pull on my circular feet.
Glum songbirds mingle in the dissapointment larder
Of the Transport Office between Mr Kane and his ***** milk.
The tutted Beryl train accounts for neither the sad 13,
Nor the burgundy drums of Cologne.
The dark doodad brigade broke the Parisian child pipes,
So now the garnet ***** are a very dusty parcel indeed.
And Sir Billick’s magnificent bottom of forty years has beckoned.
What delicious and capable spondees!
What fruits we acquired for Captain Mary!
We remember nothing therefore.
Now we must wash our spectacles
And take sympathetic musical suggestion for our tugged Nightingale methods.
Feb 3, 2016
Feb 3, 2016 at 8:08 AM UTC