The Teacher and the Student

28 06 2006

Ms. Adele’s Twenty Four

The student tapped his pencil against the desk. His watch ticked a few times, a few times running forwards and a few times flowing counterclockwise. The classmates were all around him slumped over their desks, asleep. The teacher, Ms. Adele, continued to teach to him and only him. James began to recite his memorization of mathematical formulas. “The first fundamental theorem states that the ..”, he stammered. He noticed things in his panic, there were four distinct walls surrounding him, one door, five tinted windows, twenty four desks arranged neatly into a nearly square pattern. “Why hadn’t she called on someone else.” There were two beads of sweat running down the side of his face. “Well, James, .. what is it?” she said in an intoxicating tone, luring his mind farther from mathematical formulas and closer to darker things. Shadowy, scary, frightening things. The lights might have flickered a little. He stuttered as he used to back in grade school. Her eyes engaged his thought, black as ice, impossible to decode. He tried to think differently, this wasn’t about math, he knew. James narrowed his thoughts, building images of mountains, textbooks, and literature, and valleys filled with numbers and sky of blue and yellow sun and. His eyes closed, stinging of the sweat. In a calm, hypnotizing voice, she asked him to reply. His eyes began to blink uncontrollably, his neck twitched violently. Within the moment, he was flat on the desk, unconscious. “And that makes twenty-four today,” the young Ms. Adele remarked, walking out of the silent classroom.

Problems with Makeup

17 06 2006

Forgetting, Pretending

I love how girls pretend to be,
When they’re not,
Playing to what boys want to see,
Pretty glittery soft,
She’s got a fake smile and not a grain of sand in her hair,
When did she last have fun outside,
Making snow angels in her underwear,
Too worried about the way she’ll look,
Busy preserving an image that wont last,
Forgetting that pretending gets you nowhere fast.

A dress worn hanging on her shoulders,
Maybe is a bit too revealing,
You’d think a perfect guy to hold her,
Just another vision unappealing
To those who prefer the false pretend,
The enigmatic climb and eyeliner descent,
Glossed lips that beckon feeling,
The population approves of beauty stealing,
Last I checked, we’re not on stage,
These girls forget there’s more than UV rays
To keep out, a diseased disgrace to purists everywhere,
Girls play Barbie with their own skin and hair,
Winning every Ken and losing every Socrates,
Is it wonderful imagination or just another
Symptom of plastic degradation?

Post Book Writing

17 06 2006

All the Same

A heart tangled in your alcoholic smile,
Doubt fills your tongue to disappointment before I speak,
I’m cogent, holding to my twist of truth,
Sometimes I cry because of what I heard the other night,
A brown haired girl pulled on my jacket in the downtown mall,
She said sometimes you’ve got to bleed to be unique,

The hundred dollar suits that wont fit in a year,
For the young boys who want to impress little girls
who couldn’t care to care,
Aren’t enough to prove they’re special here,
Tears stream down cheeks,
For there are three turquoise dresses matching,
Girls ashamed of thinking alike, for what, they’re all pretty outside,
And undateably immature,
So I’m in a quandary wondering how more
Makes extraordinary different from ordinary.

Summer Spent

Where was summer spent,
In the franchise gardens or about the sugary mist,
Between the silky sheets or with those stupid kids,
No instead I’m stuck tossing pennies into the pond,
Wishing someone else could lead me on,
Somehow a photographed stranger to all the seasons,
We knew life and candles burning dimly,
All the world turned a lifeless pale blue,
All my farsighted dreams speeding faster on more eventful streets.

A Sound Away

The topless car is rusting I can hear it,
There are people disappearing,
And stranger noises echo in my empty head,
Your arms are so distant the deepest spirits
Catch smaller strands near the East Bay,
Behind the pier, under Venus and Mars,
We’ll lie on our blankets drinking hard,
Oh oh, a golden sip drowns the ocean,
Oh oh, and no one knows we shouldn’t,
So oh, dive right in and disappear with him.

The Same Place

13 06 2006

The Sidewalk Scene

A split in the air,
Makes me different inside,
The way you choke on the ground,
While I’m laughing out loud,
Because the streets are divided
More than you’ll know,
And the patterns of tears on your cheek,
The lantern lit face that once walked beside me,
Will faintly see the sidewalk,
Where dreams step no further.

And there’s no air to dream about,
Colors just flat and listless,
No prayer that could save you,
I am sorry you were born over there,
Not here,
But there,
Where no one lives too long,
And the streets get red before sunset.