The Imminent Occurances Of Postmortem

As some of you guys know, I have elaborate theories of what happens to the soul when the corpse eternally draws its lids over the eyes. This is one of my most recent ones.

They are all wearing masks,
Shielding the eye from truth.
Underneath, the enigmatic metal
Emits hate in ultraviolet rays.
They gracefully swim through forests
Of doubt.
Wavelets of proof rustle the leaves
At the surface.
In the darkened, rocky, bottom,
They show each other
What is truly under.
Their metallic sheen,
Illuminates the false assumptions.
And scares away the deer,
Fleeing in a school,
Against the current.
They need to surface
Or they drown with the lies.
Defiantly scouring
The vast heavens for an answer,
The smoke emitted from the burning clouds
Enters their elongated nostrils in tendrils
Of question.
WHY DOES LIFE CONITNUE?
All organisms just seemingly loiter in the barren void called earth awaiting their Imminent incineration,
Brought upon themselves by sin.
Senseless lust for eternal life.
Fornicating amongst themselves with theories.
Greed towards their deceased friends,
Who are already bathing in the fire,
Cleansing them of faith.
Our masks are flammable.
No matter which way we go after death,
We'll be exposed.
Whether by the flames of hell,
Or the warming flames in the fireplace of heaven,
After the pulse becomes parallel with the lines of latitude on the maps,
There are no lies.
The departed can no longer find a hiding spot in the jungle that lacks autotrophs.
Truth prevails and the liars learn that an admission to heaven can be revoked
By the dreaded pitchfork that stokes the fire burning our masks.

-Steve?-

After All It Ends

(I was thinking about all of us. All our inside jokes and fun times...and I came up with this. This is written from my perspective in a few years. I meant to read it...and it sounds way better when I read it aloud rather than on paper,but never found the chance. So here it is.)

I still snap my fingers
When it’s time to clap
They say “Put your hands together”
And I? I snap.
I still think of room 211
When I see a post-it note
I still shiver
Every time I read what I wrote.
When someone says “jam”
I think “poetry,” not “bread”
Since then, recitation isn’t a trial
It’s become joy, instead.
When someone says “Gimme more”
I think “That’s not right…”
I feel like something’s missing
Every Friday night
Because I wasn’t at MHS
Listening to poems about transvestite
Dinosaurs or chronic insomnia
But when I tell them how I miss it,
They just say “Get on with ya”
But how could they understand?
How could they see?
That words bond more deeply than any history?
Carrying couches down hallways
Who thought that could be fun?
You know, iHop is the place to be
When a show is done.
Under-cover operations
Were never so significant
As when we hid the flowers
And hoped the bucket wouldn’t tip.
In my head, MC and Benson
Are basically the same thing
If you’re looking for a techie,
Victoria is king.
Activity periods and cheese-its
Tend to go hand in hand
The best directors’ meetings
Are those that really…weren’t planned.
When I’m feeling creative,
My instinct is to doodle on the white board
When someone says “Hang on…I’m writing”
I never feel ignored.
When I hear something significant
I think “Mr. Collyer would have his head in his hands right about now”
You know, I still miss Kassi and Solana’s
Bow-chica-wow-wow
It’s the little things
That make us just like the poetry we write
I still miss Friday afternoons
Every Friday night.

~~Frances~~

For summer!

Ah, summer heat that soaks my skin
With golden possibility,
And summer wind that calls, "Begin!"
Then laughs, and wonders why,
Summer leaves that whisper wealth
From indolent facility,
Fruits plump and many with summer's warmth
To fill my hand... And I
Dream lolling clouds above the haze,
My lazy summer fantasies
Of hyacinth flights and marigold days...
I might have been
A butterfly!

When You Want the Top Hot Commodity

Dim the lights and pulse the beat
I only live to feel the heat
To twist and turn, to swing and sway
To pound my swirling thoughts away
To lose myself in words and notes
Because my mind—persistent—dotes
The rhythm fell with heavy breathing
Lo, I found my rage was seething
En masse the harlots swept right through
Wound their way right onto you
Panting, fainting with desire
Tangling with their clueless sire
My empty middle faintly growled
Inwardly I scratched and howled
Waiting, watching, calculating
Twirling soon was aggravating
And you just couldn’t take a hint
Too busy reveling in your stint
As the top hot commodity
You failed to spare yourself for me
So with teeth and claws and burning eyes
I fought through to claim my prize
Sweat-soaked gazes dared collide
You jumped on to catch the ride
Twining fingers, hands on hips
Coyish smiles on bitten lips
Sing you and me, breathe me and you
Tune in and maybe get a clue
Sway with me, trill in tune
Fate won’t give us time to swoon
Take me now, don’t wait so long
We only have to the end of the song
Time must pass, the beat will die
And then, what more of you and I?
We either die with this song’s end
And live our lives as friends, just friends
Or you can try and take this chance
Everything, my dear, starts with a dance

~Kassi~

Sonnet of sorts

' Ever let the wind be in my ears,
And never let the rain be at my throat;
For if the wind were whispers, rain were tears:
To secrets I'd be near, to sighs remote.
And should the river run her course in time,
Carrying me and storm's lot to the sea,
Then let the waves be rhythm, foam be rhyme,
And down the poem's current let me flee.
Like, should my ink outrun the course of thought,
Into the sea of feeling she should plunge.
A-swirl on a raft, I doubt I'd float--
But I've the Muse's breath to fill my lungs.
Effortless and regretless trav'ler, I,
Between the winds and waters, free to fly.

- Alexa

Time Is Passing

Time a general element of life
The One controls beautiful night and day
The clock, man wants to stab with a sharp knife
But he also controls the lavish pay

How tensions rise and crowds begin to cry
They will be smothered, crippled, and encaged
It’s the apocalypse so man might die
Incessant toil, privation, the crowd raged

An article was verbosely written
Oh, those vibrant words engulfed great passion
He stood up, the crowd at his side spoken
The One was destroyed and spared no ration

The day came when there were once working clocks
But tomorrow they dissembled as rocks


By The pres Alex

Wordly Abandon

My words have left me here
I fear
Run off to find a worthy ear
They pranced away, my thoughts in tow
To trill their tunes
But I don’t know
The verses there
The verses here
Ripped out my hair
For you, my dear
I fear
My words escaped, crept lightly off
I was stuck to sigh and scoff
Calculating to derive
How to get out of this alive
I worried there
I worried here
Anxiety shares
The space with fear
Oh dear
I never meant to complicate
From a to b to integrate
Insanity
Profanity
And a damn near loss of humanity
Don’t you see?
There can be no stopping me
I burned right through with enthalpy
My words escaped this melted mess
Saved themselves from sheer distress
Spewed their logos to the masses
Ethos languished still in classes
The pathos far
The pathos near
Can’t hope to spar
With the letters here
I fear
The rhetoric isn’t clear
S, p, d filled up in line
The derivative was two roots of sine
The answer’s A
No, B
No, D
You’re all wrong
The answer’s Z
My words have left, abandoned ship
Now I’m stuck to sway and slip
The rigging’s there
The oars are here
The electrons are shared
The ideas won’t cohere
I fear
My words have left me here

~Kassi~
*suffering from post midterm stress disorder*