"whiteboards" poems
Poem 1
A LESSON THAT I TAUGHT
I Teach!!
I taught...
Here's a lesson that I taught...
I had this lesson. It were ace in my mind!
The planning was tight, concise, well timed
Going into the room - my stage
Put on the teacher face, the act
(My phone is buzzing but I don't react)
Lights, camera, action! You're on!
"Hi guys! Come in, unpack your things!"
But I'm just thinking about why it rings
"Hi guys! Come in, take off your coats!"
For some reason now I'm thinking about goats
(Why ******* goats?
Why now?!)
I thought
(I need to teach a lesson on...
Oh crap! The whiteboards not working!) ****
Right, try again...
"Excuse me Chelsea, that skirts too tight,
And too short and you aren't wearing tights.
Go down to student point and get yourself a note"
And now I'll get back to the lesson that I taught
"I FUCKIN' 'ATE SIR! HE'S ALWAYS TIGHT!!"
Class - "Totes! Hahahahaha!!!"
I think ... Look you little tots, all you're thinking about is **** ... and your tots and your shots and your tokes in her tote!
You think you're ******* clever but you're not!!
I say... "This is an amazing lesson that I've got!
Does anyone remember the last lesson that I taught?"
"No sir, we do not"
"You're boring sir"
"Are you gay sir?"
On a parallel universe, where I don't care about my career and my home and my children...
I think in my head for a bit, then I say...
"Look you little spaz, you think I'm tight?!? I've been sleeping in a mates spare room at night
because me and the mother of my kids had a fight
and everything in my life is turning *****
Because all I do is stay up all night to plan a ******* lesson for a bunch of little scrotes! Who can't even take off their coats, And sit and ******* listen to the lesson that I taught! I'm marking so much that my body's not taut and my mind spins round and round in thought (a word which you spell ******* tawt!)
Progress and differentiation!
The future of your education!
And I just hope that in some way, I might actually TEACH you something today!
But all you think about is **** and tats and texts and sexts and COD and Christiano Ronaldo and Justin 'fucking' Beiber AND YOU CALL ME GAY?!?
You spell thought ... T.A.W.T!! You're 18 for gods sake!!
How you gonna make a living eh?!
Totesport?!
A couple of them titter
And the rest go silent...
And I think I've won!
'Til one of them says "sir... I'm gonna get you done!"
"And you're gay"
"And you're a **** teacher"
The end
Apr 11, 2016
Apr 11, 2016 at 5:04 AM UTC
imagine if VCIS had escalators instead of hard stair cases
and water slides in each sides
just to keep our entertainment level high
imagine our classrooms with movie screens
instead of those pale whiteboards
where you can watch the math problems
as the ****** in this movie
while you enjoy the lessons
chomping some barbecue popcorns
imagine our canteen
as a 5 star Gorden Ramsy's
and our library with a super secret spy base
behind one of those 8 bookshelves
and our tiny comfort rooms with disco *****
so we can shake a bit while we release some bits
and our quad floor as the Pacific Ocean
because why not
imagine Koby Bryant standing in our Lakers ground
just to make our school look cool
imagine our school as a mental hospital
or a even a county called
"International Christian Republic of Victory"
for we have our own flag and an anthem to sing
imagine every extremes you had ever imagine
but once these imaginations step in the border of wishing
to change our school
VCIS will never be the same
because I like our school the way it is
it is imperfectly perfect
each of the classrooms have different crayons of personalities
where everyone fills the color of this huge painting
our windows are sealed with iron bars and covered with egg trays
but no great movies can be fun as this movie with best friends
and the those grade school students running every morning
as if I was chasing them on a 13th Friday
but they are happiest human beings I know
and even though our campus may be smaller than others
and even though there are some cracks in the edges
and even though I eat fried chicken with ketchup every single lunch
I will remember VCIS forever for that.
Dec 12, 2015
Dec 12, 2015 at 11:00 AM UTC
the same blue chairs
the same smudged whiteboards
the same ****** teachers
for 13 years
its not preparation for life
its torture
pure torture
your brain in molded
to think the way society wants you to think
the lack of freedom to think in this world
is what holds us back the most
we must be normal
well what if i dont want to be normal
theres more to life than a nine to five
a wife and two kids
a church wedding and a mortgage
live with no regrets
fufil your every want and need
live to experience
and die with content
Aug 1, 2017
Aug 1, 2017 at 4:19 AM UTC
I've needed glasses since I was 11 years old,
And I never wore them until a few weeks ago.
I was afraid of being bullied,
So I spent my entire school years with blurred vision,
Sitting close to the whiteboards,
Or sneakily copying the words from my friends' notebooks.
And now I have glasses and the world is clear and pristine.
Or it would be if they weren't constantly smudged and *****
No matter how clean I get them,
Three minutes later they've attracted more smudges, clumsy fingerprints.
My point is, helping yourself is the right thing to do,
But it doesn't always mean the quality of your life will be better.
Just...different.
Feb 5, 2017
Feb 5, 2017 at 1:54 PM UTC
where do i get off
everything is moving
and i can't seem to get my head on straight
the grey sky above me
melting into the glass buildings
steel spikes growing out of the bone-dry earth
in your world
it's whiteboards covered in scrawling green text
in your world
it's not what you'd thought
the air around you so tangible that it chokes you
closes your throat and eyes against the pain
in your world
you can see the people
like insects
crawling the streets from the view from your apartment window on the 80th floor
in your world
the glass doesn't warp against the night sky freckled with bright lights and falling bodies
in your world
it's not the nausea that tears against your consciousness
it's more the darkness
it's not the desperation
it's the calm
beating it's head against your bathroom wall and saying over and over
over and over
over and over
in your world
it's the cigarettes at three in the morning
and after that
at midnight
you stare at the clock for six hours straight
but the seconds don't stop
the microwave beeps all night long as you stare at the blank TV screen
but the seconds don't stop
Mar 21, 2014
Mar 21, 2014 at 3:57 PM UTC
A Failed Attempt at Baptism
Before my mattress devours me and I am swept below
This feeling clouds the air
The stains have turned into a web so thick
That if I try to find the origin
It only rouses rats in my head
And they’re always starving
So I lie to myself and think, if I could just find the beginning
When I was hairless and dumb
I would lie in the breeze of the hot fan
Wet from sweat and smelling like *****
Lost in some world that I chose
Oblivious and blissful
I wish I could be that simple
But it hasn’t been since I woke
And it gets harder each time,
Standing with eyes strapped open and screaming
God set my mom’s hair on fire, and blood suckers
Driving up and down the road to check if I’m still home
It makes me wish I could be there now
I close my eyes, but sleep doesn’t come to me
I open the book, but the words aren’t real
I see married men
Who sit in old arm chairs
Without a word to say
And defeat is written on their faces
For them, all white flags have sailed
And their consolation prize is a television
And vampire children that laugh like imps
I see time unfolding
I see lovers forgotten
I see the way you pull down your coat sleeve
I see elbows rubbing
I see the smoke in the air
I see my father and twenty others
Plunged in to the lake
Trying to make whiteboards clean
We are all making do
With what we have and what we’ve been
I took my shadow to the port
And tried drowning him in the sea
But as far as I walked into the water
It never crept past my knees
I want to die with blood still in me
Putting garlic over my front door
And holding tight to mementos
Of the lives I once lived
Letters from those who once loved me
Resting in my dresser
Boxes flooding the basement
Holding teddy bears and trophies
And my dying dog wheezing on the floor
May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 2:08 AM UTC
I write them in my journal
I write them on my walls and furniture
I write them on the whiteboards and chalkboards
I write them on the streets in chalk
I type them on my computer
Words are what you used to speak to me
They are what you used to tell me you love me
They are what you used to tell me you miss me
They are what you didn't say when you left
Aug 8, 2017
Aug 8, 2017 at 10:10 PM UTC