cleverjello's Diaryland Diary

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Pshaw.

We're doing poetry in American Lit.

I remember in 7th grade someone gave me the hilarious impression that I was a poetry writer. Ha, I say. HA! So throughout the rest of 7th grade and parts of 8th, I wrote these godawful verses. Then I finally realized that I should stick to prose because that's probably what I know and enjoy best. I do admire poets, as I do all writers.

Mr. N_____ has us writing original poetry. I know my verses have improved since three years ago:

3-D glasses expel any hope of flatness.
Green pens scrub off her loud red
This Molotov cocktail is flushed in a flame of failed revolutionaries

My paper fan mops up Oriental sweat
Movies kill the imagination
Scrub out originality
Ripped windbreakers give me imaginary protection

From this old old cross I have to bear

No this mustang has to shovel out vomit and heartbreak
Heartbreak and vomit
Funny those things don�t usually come as a pair

But situations change
Like dark blue paper turning to light black
Or like peas and carrots renewing my rotting
Incisors

My mother scolds us inside our Camaro,
�You must flush out the sneakers. Flush them out!�

However

I now know that Buddy Holly doesn�t croon to me in the crevices of my
Cranium

And Marty McFly knows quantum physics.
No, he�s not a complete slacker
He wants to replace this generation of sophomores

2:41 a.m. - 1/31/09

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avant - ensuite