All the teachers are criminals
The lessons are subliminal
Hypothetically hypocritical
Methodically metaphorical
The irony is beautiful
But the mockery is pitiful
They say you're so incapable
of being an individual
They are so judgmental
with sins that are identical
to the same ones they ridicule
They overlook the literal
and focus on the probable
Supposed to be educational
Well I'm lost in the illogical
Psychotically impratical
Feed us lies until we're full
Against the walls we back into
Smiling like a plastic fool
As honest hearts will crack in two
So shall pain come back at you
and paint your life so black and blue
Trust is dead and faith is bruised
They dig apart the flaws in you
with pointed fingers as their tools
We are the broken and abused
They don't teach us how to choose
They learn us how to lose
Then burn us with the news
that the world is just a noose
with a knot you can't get loose
It will be all over soon
Wear a mask and call it truth
Just don't practice being you
Like a class inside a school
we're conforming to the rules
Diving into empty pools
headfirst without the proof
Like a word without a use
Just a robot with no screws
We are mindless and diffused
If we find out we've been used
they just find a new excuse
Blame the parents that abuse
or the drugs that they produce
Say our hearts are underused
and we'll never make it through
but we are taught to reproduce
Never fought for what we lose
Honest thoughts are running loose
But they just stifle and refuse
another rifle aimed at you
another cycle of the truth
another lie and we're seduced
another smile to amuse.
It's been a while since we knew.
We no longer have the clues
We just take in all their truths
and call it important news
We've lost our spark and fuse
and our individual views
Well I can't bow to you
Not as long as I am true
Because I am more than you
and the lies you try to prove
I'll regain forgotten rules
and reclaim and introduce
a new famous point of view
and just blame it all on you
I can name myself a fool
I'm insane and I got proof
My heart has been removed
by the world and how it moves
and the blades that I withdrew
Now my back is bleeding through
So I'm back misleading you
like a judge receiving proof
from the evidence and the clues
exhibit A was introduced
then the jury looked at you
But I don't judge, I commit to the truth
I won't budge, twitch, or even move
You can fuss, bitch, or bleed and drool
This thing will not be over soon
I won't stop until it's done and the gavel falls on you.
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2 comments:
You're too smart to jump in an empty pool. Fuck teachers who expect you to swim in uncreative and non-critical thinking waters. The best teachers I've had gave me copious feedback, but told me to go with my pen's flow over tracing their red ink. We can float on our own if instructed on the tools. I'm interested in cannonballs. I'm not interested in turning my blood into ink. I write in pencil outside the margins. I teach writing, but I live writing. I want and give suggestions, but don't expect rescue from anyone, save for my own cranium tappings. Check out Freire's work "Pedagogy of the Oppressed." Teachers need to learn how to learn, too.
Amy
Teachers can be inspired by students, too. For example, I just wrote a poem after I responded to your writing. I usually write a poem when I teach creative writing every semester, as well. The learning process can be somewhat egalitarian, but grades still need be abolished.
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