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POKEMON_MASTER_0
February 27th, 2009, 10:09 PM
I'm just going to preface this by saying that it is fairly long, as far as poems go. I was a bit hesitant to post it, but I think (hope) that there's an audience here that will like it.





Algebra II, Honors




Diving through the crowd, chest filled with heat, I grasp for my seat

Found it in a box of squares, locked in formation

Three in front, three in back, one to each side

I cannot hide

Well after the bell

The eight unfilled

Should-be occupants dashing about the room, leaping over desks, shouting and joking

Soaking up caffeine, sucrose, high fructose

Teacher yells, turning multiple reds

It only fills their already-swelled heads

One of them jumps over mine

Asks if I got a haircut

Oh, I guess that’s…fine?

Another will whine and whine about the game last night

The score was all right

But says his car got stolen by a midget at midnight

Drove two laps around the lot before he recovered the keys

Would you like me to bring this midget down to his knees?

Or perhaps you want me to drop to my own?

Do you really think I feel the need to immerse myself in your self-pity?

However, one other says he went to a city: Vancouver, B.C.

Cool with me, but what about quadratics?

I strain my senses against these fanatics, trying to catch the lecture up front

Yet I find myself high on adrenaline

The chemical speaks: “You are surrounded by hostilities. Fight, or flight? Which way is right?”


On the fight side, a primal being takes form

It urges me to drop the peaceful norm

Shatter, crush, strangle, kill

Batter, crash, tangle, mangle

Heft my twenty-pound text and wield it like a two-handed, newfangled club

You want to go to Canada?

Too bad, your days of travel are done

And you want to drive?

So sorry, from me no help will you derive

But with my luck, they will likely chance to tear this club away

So I’ll grab the next implement in order to continue holding them at bay

A hundred-dollar calculator, weighing in at one-tenth its cost

I will brandish it as a dagger; slashing, jumping, parrying

I shall emerge victorious from the bout

But then word would be out

Security would enter, black coats and glasses

Haughty, yet strangely indifferent in air

They would throw me down there, to the ground

Then I would be floored, safe and sound

Fight is not what I crave


Perhaps flight bears the label of ought

I could leave to sit over by him, in the front

He is one of the few who shares my thought

We would take notes, comprehend the lecture, and talk in time

Or perhaps a short walk over to another off to the side

Know her from Spanish-Conozco ella de español (as a rough translation)

Dreaming of the class for that language of nations

Conversing about the sounds of India, Israel, the Netherlands: Infected Mushroom, Shpongle, maybe even 1200 Micrograms


But to reality back

I must do an assessment of the fact

Thirty-four seats, thirty-five occupants

Hardly a soul permanently intact

Yet despite the allure of this fact

One must understand that every five minutes, an occupant returns

Drinks some water, grabs some food, reestablishes a mood

Then hits the road for another twenty-minute, desk-jumping tour about the room

If I were to hold a seat, it would not be mine

An occupant would come back to dine

Then I would be jacked

SON

Any hope for flight?

Nope, none that I can think


So I sink back in my own chair and resign to pull out tuffs of my own hair

Is there any respite from this chatter and laughter: this storm?

Warm, coppery taste on tongue

Soon realize that there is none

So I call out to the divine:

“Someone from above

Please ensure that an exit shines

Green fluorescent letters to release what binds”

But hope as I might

NOTHING SHALL COME TO LIGHT


Wish that I was still in bed, drifting

Gliding along the shores of consciousness

Yielding to the gentle caress of waters indifferent

Sinking deeper into what is me

But blatantly, I am not

Wait until Saturday, wait until Sunday

Then I can pull my boat away from the dock

Regrettably, I live in the present, bleary eyes focused on the clock

Nine twenty-one?

Just how long until we are done?

Narcissus Secret
February 28th, 2009, 08:42 PM
I liked it. I ,however, almost quit reading it for its monstrous length. If you write another, make it shorter :)