"worksheets" poems
Biology TED talk, Ken Burns WWII
Multiple choice plus open response =
Teacher cares, out there among the English
Mathematics, fractions to imaginary i
Anything can happen any time, I mean
Mass killing--public school, movie theater,
Post office when every mother wears a gun
Yet happiness permeates like CO2 + sunlight
Photosynthesis + electricity = burning bush
Hot tea, hot shower pleasure perfect rest
Early to bed, no more lies, complexity
Poetry about history, i.e. Wolfowitz
As for non-fiction, most things qualify to know
Astrobiology, search for LUCA, FLO
Minerals on Titan, organisms on Enceladus
Divination on Iapetus, peace on Earth and Tethys
Volcanoes and tsunamis, Big Red One and Private Ryan
Don't stay up late, take your vitamins
Sin and crime being nothing more than
Mental malaise, imbalance. Love and compromise
Tolerance, practice worksheets, brilliance
Prejudice and superstition, Tha's a wrap
Nothin doin, ain't gonna happen, freedom's when
Yes is mostly a blessing and No is always an option
Feb 3, 2019
Feb 3, 2019 at 8:14 AM UTC
Home that's where I go
To recalibrate
To recoup lost energies
To recount all those tales
That filtered in so much lies
To the sea by the shore
Traipsing on the sand
Salty air clears the head
Of false thoughts lingering near
On the bed under clean sheets
Looking at excel worksheets
Joggling figures in thousands and millions
Trying to close in all the gaps
All but creative accounting lies
With books under wraps is hidden more lies
Officers here to uncover gave up their find
Mar 7, 2013
Mar 7, 2013 at 3:09 PM UTC
My hand doesn’t seem to want to hold a pencil;
My brain is having trouble focusing.
What is this?
Multiple choice?
Worksheets?
Essays and Assignments?
Woah, wait a second
I can’t handle this algebra equation
And forget about a ‘great thesis’!
Give me a second to comprehend!
Can we please skip all the introductory class rules?
I wont spit gum in your class
Or write on all the desks.
I already know where to turn my paper in, and yes,
I will sharpen my pencil whenever I feel like it.
I’m bored already, I want to get moving
I’m ready to learn.
Golly gee, it sure is hot in here!
Jun 4, 2012
Jun 4, 2012 at 1:32 PM UTC
Thursday is my night.
Both my sisters have dance class so I have the house to myself.
I have homework.
I have to take out the trash.
I have the most cheerful outlook I've had in weeks.
It seems a thousand pounds of sorrow
have just flown off my shoulders,
sprouting wings and going to pester someone else.
I took out the trash with a hop and a skip,
not even caring that I was still wearing shoes
(Mind you, I can't stand shoes).
As I spun in circles I "whoop"ed and "wee"ed
and the phrase,
"It's a great day to be alive"
leaped from my mouth,
spring boarding off my tongue and over my lips.
I returned to the empty house and kicked off my shoes.
I took a shower with the door open
and the lights on
(I normally keep them off).
I stood under scalding water,
burning away any residual sadness.
I returned to my room and found my spring pajamas.
Normally I shy from math,
hiding in history books
and chemistry worksheets,
but today I dove into the calculus questions,
pencil flying over differentials and derivatives.
Today was no different than any other day.
Except that today is Thursday.
My Thursday.
WHOOP!
Nov 14, 2013
Nov 14, 2013 at 6:32 PM UTC
Don’t put off til tomorrow what you can do today
Its always work work work and no more play
working hard or hardly working
well trust me no one’s really working
they would much rather be jerking off
the some hot ***** buxom blonde
they found while surfing
the (alternative to working) world wide web
but that won’t change the ebb and flow
it’s nothing but ******* stop and go
a shitstorm of ‘hurry up and wait’
that makes us indecisive babies
because specialization creates dependence
what happened to the renaissance men on our planet?
a man can only do so much
and woman only gives her touch
what? so there’s no more time in life to learn
and I’ll just have to wait my turn?
what about potential? I’m ready to be educated
there’s more to life than wasting time getting wasted
and self-fornicated
let me tell you how to do your job
you’re in my way, I won’t be robbed
of any chance I have to be the best, I wanna impress
but mere population overflow represses my need to show
show you how I can run this show
all by myself, I know,
I sound like an ******* we could all be fantastic
if we weren’t so fanatic just cuz we don’t fill a quota
that determines our determination
when we fill out simple-minded worksheets or switch stations
that’s messed up
we might as well give up and become chronic masterbaturs
Feb 22, 2013
Feb 22, 2013 at 9:48 PM UTC
I wish to be a single unit.
I want all of my body to contain my
vibrancy
I do not want to feel restrained by
my anxieties.
This unit will work together
a full microbiome
a complete structure
good-enough in nature
keeping you alive.
self-efficacy,
a concept I'd love to measure.
blood levels, stress worksheets, therapist visits,
drugs, anti-depressants, side effects
things i can measure.
Biology,I get it,
but intrapersonal connections?
Apr 26, 2017
Apr 26, 2017 at 2:55 AM UTC
Did you know
over 100,000 people
die every year by
careless drivers, slippery stairs,
not following printed directions,
lapses in common sense,
These are common errors we share.
Some of us get lucky,
we evade, we clutch the banister,
we start at step one,
We double check electrical wires,
& carry scissors blade down,
never running.
People die at work all the time,
on the Monday morning drive,
rear ended in traffic on a rainy
Thursday night.
The 9 to 5 can take you,
spirited away at the desk
during a 45 page monthly report,
you get to cell C83
on worksheet 8
and your heart explodes
from stress,
blood vessels burst in
your brain like black cats
on Halloween night
from strain,
All for a gold watch,
a 401 k,
so your wife can smile
and your children can
play in their backyard.
We do it for 48 hours we can
call our own.
5 days of Hell
for two days in Heaven
means the devils
get their dues
and the gods
give yours to you.
Oh, Weekend
Mourn,
How I love thee.
I wake up
when I wake up,
no alarms needed.
Sometimes I shower after
coffee, sometimes after
dinner.
Death leaves me alone
leaves me to my
streaming movies,
old books
and my poetry.
Oh, Weekend
Mourn
How I love thee
No worksheets.
No stress.
No Death.
Until Monday,
everything is fine,
until Death wakes me
with a whisper
"Get up,
It's almost time."
Oh, Weekend
Mourn
How I love thee.
Apr 6, 2015
Apr 6, 2015 at 3:39 PM UTC
Yes you heard me
I hated this toy
I hated it with a passion
That was fastened
To my chest with seat belts
And burned onto my heart
With a hot branding iron
This toy was a teddy bear
One of teddy roosevelt's passions
With a patent owned by a name
I'll never know
Given to kids who are just beginning to grow
So that they have something to talk to
To let everything flow
My brother named him sgt.grizzly
And he was always busy
Telling this little teddy
The secrets of his life
I kid you not
He told this bear his world
He entrusted and unfurled
Everything to this inanimate
Object that couldn't even answer back
By now you're trying to figure out
Exactly why I hate a thing
That I don't even own
Well when that thing sits on the throne
Of a brother you wish you'd known you'll
Understand
Because everytime my brother and I fought
He brought up this stupid teddy bear
And how it did things I did not
How it listened to him
And didn't try to advise him and it sickened me
What disgusted me more than this
Was the fact that he told a toy
More about himself
Than I will ever know in a lifetime
He told it secrets I've been trying to learn
Since the beginning of his time
He gave that toy more of his heart
Than I have ever seen in him within the 13 yrs I've spent with him
And while he threw at me nothing but ****** and pins
He gave this toy an inside look on his many opinions
And while he tested me constantly
He gave his stupid teddy
A degree in justinology
The study of my brother a study in which I wish I wasn't struggling
While my brother threw me worksheets
Sgt grizzly got a free pass
Even though he did nothing in class
Justin let him pass
With an A
While I struggled to hold a D
While i fought hard
He handed grizzly a security card
And as far as I was concerned
All he ever did was put me on blast
I'll admit it I was actually a little jealous
I still am at times
That a stupid toy
Managed to know more about a boy
Who I spent majority of my life living with than me
And honestly it was insulting
Everytime grizzly got lost
I was the first to blame
Just because I was cursing and speaking negatively whenever I spoke that dreaded name
Honestly I have never before admitted
This to anyone
After all being mad at a toy
Isn't the best way for a teenage boy
To be seen but oh boy
I’ve lost the will to keep this in
So I'm simply going to sit down
And write about the hate I have
For this little stupid toy
Mar 9, 2018
Mar 9, 2018 at 3:44 PM UTC
Let your children go explore.
School does not teach a kid nearly as
much as a romp through the woods
or a foreign exchange.
Meeting new people and finding inner peace must become priorities in life if you want your kids to be happy.
Try telling that to them while giving them worksheets.
Open their minds.
First and foremost, give them some
autonomy to roam.
This will ultimately make them happy.
May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 11:08 PM UTC
when i close my eyes, i still see light
a spectrum against my eyelids
hands outstretched
knowing its close
another uneasy step
victorious
hop-skotch dodging
trusting strangers is dangerous but sometimes neccessary
endless paces of paranoia
1 man snowball fights
repairing broken connections
realizing yet again, life can get much worse
snow on halloween?
fingerpainting and worksheets on feelings...where am i?
strategy is all i got in here
its easy when all you got is a basic blueprint
Mar 12, 2015
Mar 12, 2015 at 4:54 AM UTC
On the back of a math worksheet
You wrote down reasons.
Then on the back of a history worksheet
You wrote down ways.
The back of your physics homework
Had “im sorry’s”
And they all had tear stains.
On the back of my hand
I wrote down reminders to call you.
In the note pad on my phone
I wrote down plans to come talk
And in the back of my mind
I wrote down ways to make you happier.
At 2:30, right after school
You were in your basement with pills.
You had your math,history, and physics worksheets
All laid out on the floor around you.
At 2:45 you dialed my phone, pills in hand.
At 2:30, right after school
I was on my bed looking up spanish vocabulary
I had my homework all laid out around me
At 2:45 I received your call slightly worried because
You never call, only text.
What are you supposed to say
When your best friend is on the other line
Dying before they’ve even taken the pills.
How are you supposed to make them feel better
Because at this point you both are at a loss.
Dialing 911 on the home phone
Doesn’t seem to difficult
But it really is when you can practically
Hear the minutes going by
Minutes that could determine a life from that point on
Minutes that did.
I heard that you tried again a couple months later.
I guess you smartened up and didn’t tell me this time.
You seem to have awful luck
When it comes to following through with your intentions
But while it may be unfortunate for you
Its so lucky for me because even though we don’t speak
Id like to think that one day you see that
I only wanted to stop you
From hurting yourself.
Oct 16, 2013
Oct 16, 2013 at 4:01 PM UTC
They say the night is black,
a shadow cloaking the beast that
makes horizons bleed at dusk and
flees her wrath at dawn.
But the night is grey,
life is grey,
a transitory shade,
silver lusterless, passionless like
gleaming blades too long concealed.
Inflections chart themselves across bed sheets,
worksheets, warning labels,
charm their way past sunlight and into
matrimony with patriarchal corners,
vestiges of dark upon dark.
Grey is beautiful.
Sad symphonies tender their resignations,
masterpieces monochromes occupying the dome
of the sky, storm cloud devout
leaving their stations.
Mar 19, 2014
Mar 19, 2014 at 12:38 AM UTC
It's the time of the year again
Hopes where they can rest their life
On fire and of dreams to ignite other than
What they plan for years ahead
In this summer island they could ever just lay
Heat won't even matter
(But she's sorry)
This summer island, though is in reach
Same set of coal began to burn again
And thought no more miles to go
Papers and calculators moving round in round
Around her head were retrieved worksheets of Chemistry
Even Trigonometry in different corners by her sight
(Just as she thought, by now she is playing her puppy)
The weight of dreams from her youth
Now the weight of failure, heavier
To ever let her travel Summer sadness
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 4:05 AM UTC
you've always been
"rough around the edges,"
seeing lines in coloring books as
suggestions and
scribbling wherever you **** pleased
(your handiwork adorns
countless bibles in two churches,
innumerable physics worksheets,
and the walls of
one bathroom stall in your high school,
which has probably been
repainted
by now)
I'm sorry I couldn't smooth your edges,
but I'm glad I did not.
Mar 19, 2014
Mar 19, 2014 at 9:42 PM UTC
With three more weeks of holiday vacation,
Lisa and I’ve started studying 5 hours a day.
You can read a novel for atmosphere
but you have to puzzle over and wring-out academic books
- with their essays and worksheets after every chapter.
I feel a simultaneous focus and boredom
- but the pull of school is staggering
- like resisting it could break me apart.
Jan 7, 2022
Jan 7, 2022 at 10:11 AM UTC
If I know
My timing
My timeout
I don't have perfect options
If I close my eyes forever
I see my life never
Leaving my body
Like the way I entered
Soul will be solo
Body will be hollow
Assignments
Worksheets
Daily tasks
Everything losses it's track
And I will be in a separate isolated world
Which no one has ever explained or dreamt of it
Though scary I am not worried
Oct 6, 2015
Oct 6, 2015 at 12:54 AM UTC
In the midst of a waning Thursday afternoon,
I observed the outdoors from my cozy nook.
Birds serenaded each other from the treetops,
Flapping theirs wings,
Playing in the cordial breeze.
A handsome red robin took center stage,
Usurping the cynosure of the garden.
Gracefully, he sauntered to the edge of an evergreen limb,
Released an emphatic chirp, and slid into the sky,
Becoming airborne.
Free.
Meanwhile, I gazed at the clouds lethargically.
I was anchored to the land,
Indentured to books and worksheets.
I wished that I too could flap my wings,
Be hoisted into the air by the breeze,
And venture into the clouds.
But this I did not endeavor.
Unknowingly, I contracted my horizons,
Preoccupied by the useless facts and figures,
I was oblivious to the world outside of my abode.
While others lived their lives and spread their wings,
I fell behind.
They found joy in clouds, while I,
A flightless emu,
Buried my head in the sand.
Apr 7, 2016
Apr 7, 2016 at 6:26 PM UTC
When I was 5
I wrote poems on printed sheets I would get at day care
about apples and leaves
and whatever inanimate object was within my vision
and I had to make sure every line rhymed
Or it wasn't real poetry
When I was 9
I wrote poems on loose leaf paper
but only for school
because I hated writing
because I thought I wasn't any good at it
That it wasn't real poetry
When I was 12
I wrote poems on the backs of my worksheets
but only when no one else was looking
because I didn't want anyone else to see
because even though I thought my writing was good
I was afraid that no one else would
That it wasn't real poetry
When I was 15
I wrote poems on my arms
with the sharpest object I could find
because my words didn't matter anymore
only what I felt
so I would feel in free verse
Until my words blended red
But that wasn't real poetry
Was it?
Mar 9, 2015
Mar 9, 2015 at 4:41 PM UTC
Who am I?
It seems like such a simple question,
And in all honesty, it is.
The challenge comes in answering it.
Because the answers come in layers
That must be unraveled
Like a ball of yarn.
Who am I?
In kindergarten we drew self portraits,
And we filled out worksheets
That told the world "All About Me."
My hair is blonde, my eyes are blue.
I like the colors red and gold,
And I love to eat chocolate.
Who am I?
As we got older, we developed hobbies.
"We are defined by what we do."
I like psychology, so I'm a nerd.
But challenge me to a riveting game of Clue,
And I'll read your mind and win the game.
So I guess being a nerd has its perks.
Who am I?
Well, I like to think that I'm a musician.
My fingers dance across keys of black and ivory,
And I smile as sweet harmonies
Fill the vacancies of the room.
I believe music is heard with the ears,
But felt with the soul.
Who am I?
I choose to be an optimist.
Because life is too short
To spend it without a smile.
I laugh at simple things
Because I love to laugh,
Simple as that.
Who am I?
I am a fighter.
I have struggles, just like the rest of humanity.
I'm not perfect, but I'm not a quitter either.
Who am I?
I'm a loving sister and a loyal friend.
Till the very end of time,
I will stand by the ones I love.
I believe in a God who believes in me.
He is my anchor, my light, and my friend.
In His strength, I CAN succeed.
Who am I?
I am the person I choose to become.
Oct 5, 2015
Oct 5, 2015 at 8:19 PM UTC
you used to lean over and doodle
flowers or turtles or fish or random french words
on my worksheets and notes
when i wasn't paying close enough attention.
i'd find them the next day
while i was in a different class and
when i'd question you about it with a smile on my face
you'd just smirk and look away,
but you'd never deny the vandalism.
you never hesitated to give me your sweatshirts to wear
if i was cold during class.
if i said i was tired you'd offer me ibuprofen because
apparently that's what i say
when my head hurts and
you know i downplay pain and
that i hate asking for things.
you would video chat with me late at night
for hours
just so you could listen to me talk while i painted and
i could help you choose a color scheme for your new picture.
you'd walk with me in the mornings before school,
you'd walk with me to class,
you'd walk with me to the bus.
it's been so hard these past five months,
not seeing you in person like i used to,
knowing that the chances of us being in the same room again
are slim to none.
but somehow you haven't given up on me yet,
despite there being every reason to do so.
through our days of silence and
missed phone calls and
unread messages,
you still put in effort.
you still send me pictures of your dog because
you know how much i love her and
that seeing her in penguin socks makes me laugh.
you still call me when you're lonely in the house and
need someone to talk to about your day,
even if it's just for a few minutes.
you still come to me when you need help with homework.
you still text me when you need advice or motivation,
when you need someone
to be proud of you or
to believe in you.
and i will continue to be there for you,
because of the little things you did and
still do for me,
despite there being doubts and
reasons not to do so.
i'll never be able to thank you enough
for the time and friendship you've given me.
you're my person.
i'll never be able to tell you how much
i love and appreciate you.
Oct 8, 2018
Oct 8, 2018 at 11:09 PM UTC
You can do everything.
all the breathing exercises, all the mind calming techniques, all the grounding rituals, take all your meds at the appropriate times and with food, go to therapy, do the worksheets, make the changes, but you'll still falter sometimes.
and it could be anything, and you could see it coming and not even know you're seeing it.
it could be a song, a word, a noise, an action, anything.
for me it's the sound of rain on roofs.
and you'll fall back into the darkness and the hatred where you think no one can find you or pull you out again. You'll slip under the raging black sea, and let it consume you entirely
as black water
fills your lung
like rapids
and it burns but you let it happen.
because it was too quick, too sudden, for you to stop the water from drowning you.
you try to stand but you can't find your footing because there are no sandbars for you to stand on
only water.
and you thrash but sooner or later you're dizzy and your throat burns and everything is spotty and you can't think
and you're gone.
replaced by a shaking shell of the memory
of not being able to move your arms
and the thunder and rain drowning out your screams
and each blow to your head making it harder to make any noise at all
(and people wonder why you have memory issues)
and finally, when it's over
you're shaking and shivering and your sobs are so violent that they don't make any noise
you can't eat for weeks and when you do you just throw it right back up.
you can't look at your brother
or hug your father
and the disassociating gets so much worse that your arms bleed and ache almost constantly.
your "friends" worry, but not enough to do anything.
your teachers worry, but not enough to ask why.
no one ever asks, so you never tell.
and while you shake and shiver in the car
because you remember it all so well
and you just want it to stop
but you can't get enough air
and you're an absolute wreck,
there's light drifting down to you
through the murky black water.
it's bright and blue and warm
and suddenly you're on dry land
and can breathe
but you're looking into eyes made of galaxies and storms
and you're afraid if they see you this way that they'll leave,
because you're such a mess
but you can't pull it together.
but he found you, in that deep, dark water.
and he pulled you from it,
and helped you breathe again.
and you wish you could show some type of gratitude,
but you know that even if you said thank you a thousand times over,
you'd need a better word than that.
and you sooner or later smile,
and it's like the water and tar never took hold of you.
so maybe you can be better, with a little help.
Nov 10, 2016
Nov 10, 2016 at 1:03 PM UTC