As I was walking towards my eight
o’clock am classroom, before the bell rang, I heard these other kids in the
hall. "Hess is a mess."
"Himmler is a rat fink." "Göring is a fat rat fink." And
with laughter, "Colonel Klink is
bucking for rat fink!"
Then the teacher pointed at me and
directed me into her classroom. She
said, “You read Mein Kampf, I believe.”
I said, “Oh, yeah. You know that
guy, Hitler, who wrote it? Well, A lot of people say that just because he wears
that silly mustache, I’ve heard that that book's a big joke!”
She then commanded to me, “I have
some good news and bad news.”
I replied, “This time tell me the
good news first.”
She smiled and said, “You are
going to be executed in the morning.”
I asked, “Then what's the bad
news?”
She answered, “They aren't giving
you a blindfold. You really got to pay
for that.”
A lot of the kids in class
whispered saying, “It seems like
everybody’s hit with something.” But, to me, it seemed like “Everybody’s a
Hitler something.”
Eventually, the end of the school
year was near. I got used to the kids
that fought, occasionally. More than
occasionally, they fought with me. And
those, sure, were not good occasions. To
them, a nerd is sneered. But, it is the
corrupt that give a loud sneer. I sure
got beat and it was not just occasionally.
The guy that sat next to me in
Math Class got his lunch meal stolen and his soda was spilled, on him. This was done by a proud, grinning, insulting
group. And then, while he was cleaning
himself up, his wallet was also taken away.
And so that’s why he felt jammed into this school. Every day, here the fights are those
bullies’ rights. And the librarians
don’t allow the ones beat up to bicker. Every day, the front rows and back rows
would both sit down and claim they spoke the Truth. I’m one of the ones who in my face I have to
eat paste and then I get slammed. Oh
Boy! This School!
That was years and years ago. It still feels like it’s always going
on. But now, there are cheers to our
wives and sweethearts. Some of you hope
they may never meet. And I feel that it
is my work sure isn’t enough. I'm very
busy. And what is it? So many times, I want to register a complaint
to our business owner on behalf of my fellow workers.
The paid, non able, non educated commanding
group say to me, “Really? A complaint.
There’s not sufficient entertainment, perhaps.
No, you're funny enough.”
And then one says, “You think you
are Romulan’s Heroes. In your mind you
say, ‘Doctor Who? Dat’s Me!’ Well, I’ve got to tell you to boldly tell
them to boringly go where no man returned alive from before. Repeat
Repeat Repeat your self!”
Caring about fellow workers is
like it was when I cared about my fellow students. I am just told that I should Get Away From
Me! That’s sure not the way for those
bullies to live, “A Way From Me!”
As usual, in my mind I hear:
Shot
Down
You
Know The Shame Of
Shot
Down
You
Know The Game Of
Shot
Down
Ten
Times I Dug Up My Grave
Like that time in the eighth
grade, when some kid in the hall said to me:
You’d
better study Physics Al, Physics Al
Better
Study Physics Al, Physics Al
That’ll
make your name
Albert
Einstein
And now It Is Just ‘AI.’ And I realize mine and everyone’s life is not
just, even more, because of AI, Artificial Intelligence. Schools, Work, and the World’s Owners
program our lives and civilizations with Artificial Intelligence, it is sure
Artificial and there is less and less Intelligence everywhere.
All over, The Pros of Oh! Wha!
Wha! Give us all The Slows
of “Oh My God.” It’s just the Foes of Oh My Neighbor.
And my life goes through this
song, again:
My
body Dead and Gone
Silkworms
dig my head to Gong
Petty
Little Squirls make my fore arms gone
My
body Dead and Wrong
Whatever I do, it’s like I am back
in grade school, in my eighth grade Art Class.
And there I was, swirling around some clay bump forcing my
hands to make it look somewhat like a drinkable mug, instead, what I wanted to
make as a gift for my father, an ash tray.
I kept covering it with prismed non leaking liquids, and my art teacher
recommended, over and over again that I put it into the big clay oven
holder.
Noah’s
Arc or No One’s Arch
I
know no one with Any Of Life’s Arch Support
Foot
Foot Here
My
Foot Has Hair
And
Hear A Glare
They’re
A Glare
Ugly,
Ugly, Everywhere
I guess I should look up about
Ancient Civilizations found in Washington DC.
Our government sure is Ancient now, and they sure are Not
Civilized. But They Are Symbol
Lies. With lying red hair and fighting
off humans that work for them and everyone else. Paid, Paid Here. And Paid Paid They’re. We get paid less and have to pay them
more. And my grave gets dug up more, and
all I can do is swear.
Psoriasis
is Red
When
I have the Flu
My
Heart Beat is Weak
My
Life is Through
I Enjoy Reading I Also Enjoy Writing I Hope You Enjoyed Reading This I Also Hope You Enjoy Reading THESE
No comments:
Post a Comment