Curricula

I’m disquiet in the realisation of the futility of teaching the youth, younger each year, they’re imprinted with antiquated ideas of the past, growing evermore ancient and defunct.

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Andy’s Post

It seems like your voice comes only at times of sensitivity
dissonant opinion sharing -your subversive activity

“Don’t shoot the messenger -Oh…”
“I’m just playing Devil’s Advocate”
“People are evil”
-“they’re morally reprobate.”

But I tire of your distinct brand of banter
and your progressive take on the Trump banner,
regardless of what’s good and what is lost
it’ll not be your ethnicity
that pays the cost.

 

Adam

I remember you from a former life,
from a track
ran by road-youths.
before adult reality’s claxton,
screamed our cease.

In my mind I still
Visit you.
We never drifted.
There was no loss,
no flood of blood,
washing away your innocence.

All of it

Isn’t that all of it,

to reach up to the sun

with fists filled with golden sand,

the hot grains fleeing through the cracked clasp,

and for the sun’s shine to be

silvered by the passing

moods of the earth.

Once Was You

The crook of her mother’s brow
shapes her earth toned world view,
reducing glitter to dust.
Grains of sun flee her eyes,
washed away
rhythmically lapping at her cut glass cheeks.
Each breath, drawing in a fearfully rose future;
fragile desires dashed
within her insecure moods.
Her palms gasp – parched.
Feet unmoved from where she stood
when she first said hello.