~warning this entry may be full of complaints... and only complaints~

[epiphanization]

So when i become a teacher (before i become president) i am going to enjoy doing to students what is being done to me. i'm going to make them memorize poems by poets that are black (the opposite of white)....and can't write for ANYTHING. And then after they memorize it they will have to recite it in front of the entire class, purely for the teacher

Comments

Oh My! That IS sick..and now you are grounded...

[hackthedark]

I blame it on lack-luster poetry created by black writers who think that just because of the color of their skin, can write for new generations of black kids and white kids who apparently need a lesson in school of crazy insane sick humor only grotesque to those smart enough to heed warnings of racist messages that apparently hide themselves in the evanescent shadows of a once popular author in spite of the fact that the only reason that you even have to memorize this poem is because a teacher...no I dare say the country (black minority rules aka Democrats) implicitly expresses the need for a unified black nation under which black poetry will be studied and memorized to the horror of many parents and asians all of whom could care less about what some black guy does in his own time, furthermore, if his writings were so great, then why did he not make it to american literature or possibly literature in general...which poses the question to whether he is a really good writer/poet in the first place, which is to say...this is unfair and I

funny how you remember things so well when you no longer need them

[epiphanization]

i pluck my soul out of it's secret place
and hold it to the mirror of my eye
to see it like a star against the sky
a twitching body quivering in space
a spark of passion shining on my face
and i explored it to discover why
this awful key to my infinity
conspires to rob me of sweet joy and grace
and if they signs may not be fully read
if i can comprehend but not control
i need not fill my days with futile dread
because i see a part and not the whole
contemplating this i am conforted
by this narcotic thought i know my soul