What's up with certain poets constantly mentioning ashtrays and cigarretes in their works? I get that it makes edgy teenagers feel "cooler", more "special" and pleased with themselves if there's a smoke mentioned in some of the verses... Perhaps you could be original instead? Insert another motif that has the same effect and is not an overused cliche? Not be like everybody who is trying to sound different than everybody else?
Besides, smoking is not healthy, kids. Go to bed. Sleep through your angst.
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I'm getting sick and tired of entitled parents who beg or even pay teachers to give their children an undeserved passing grade. They are most usually people who come from richer social classes and who want to compensate for failures by taking shortcuts. I think that clearly shows the superficial mindset they have, when all they care about is the final mark, completely ignoring the purpose one should be attending school - to learn, develop work ethic, take responsibility for oneself, and gain options for the future (in this case, they already have doors open as members of influential families, in form of all sorts of connections and easier access to various workplaces, but are required to receive at least elementary education).
Not only that, but certain individuals from this group of airheads are genuinely convinced they know better than professionals who were specifically trained to teach. They are going to complain about the difficulty of material students are supposed to absorb, assignments they are receiving, and eventually begin criticizing the school system as a whole (obviously, without any actual solution to offer, as so many people do when criticizing school: they only whine), in order to cover up their own inadequacy in raising their kids.
"Just give him a D at least, it won't hurt you."
"My kid is good, please let him pass."
"What is your problem, treating my child like that?!"
"How are they supposed to study all of that? You are insane!"
"Your criteria are unrealistically high."
"And you call yourself a teacher? You are being rude and disrespectful!"
Oh, please, fuck off.
This is how you make spoiled, spineless brats. And one day, they are going to become just like their fathers and mothers. More greedy slaves of their own money and reputation, without anything valuable to offer to the community.
Allow your kids to fail and taste defeat. Show them support in getting back on their feet even stronger than before. Make them overcome their laziness, stress and other obstacles with a firm but also friendly presence as a parent.
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In an empty concert hall
piano keys echoed through the space
agile fingers were swiftly
dancing with the melody
a lone figure
merged with the instrument
and the instrument
merged with him
suddenly
a couple of crows stormed in
through the open windows
grunting and squeaking
they landed on top of chairs
one of them
opened its curvy beak
and cawed
you are playing too fast
I can barely follow the notes
you moron
the lone figure slowed down
another one
opened its curvy beak
and cawed
this is more boring
than getting stuck in a traffic
not enough speed
you moron
the lone figure sped up
yet another one
opened its curvy beak
and cawed
i don't hear anything
oh wait
i forgot my ear trumpet
the lone figure played louder
and another one
opened its curvy beak
and cawed
why are you playing only the white and straight keys
you fucking racist
the lone figure accomodated for all groups
and another one
opened its curvy beak
and cawed
are you trying to rape the keys
i am going to cancel you
for sexual assault
and so the bunch of birdbrains
ragdolled the lone figure
for as long as his fingers had fresh blood
in the end
he divided from the instrument
and the instrument divided from him
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I remember that day
I saw a braindead monkey
grunting through a noisy street
and scratching its sweaty armpits
as elegantly dressed figures were passing by
with laughter
this dumb ball of hair
was clinging onto the legs of strangers
perhaps he was craving
some company
some gentle word
or merely to kill boredom
the figures kept kicking him around
in a cruel football match
shoo shoo shoo
gotta save the suit from
bad smell
and reputation
this dumb ball of hair
still looking up them
wondered why
they just did not want to like him
while scraching his head
this naive ball of hair
never realised
that the tall figures
were nothing more than
clean, fancy, shaven monkeys
and who knows
maybe some of them were more of a braindead monkey
than he will ever be
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dear poets
i'm sorry to burst your bubble
but i have to say it
with utmost
sincerity
poems are not chopping
sentences
into endless pieces
lack of structure
interpunction and
capital letters
which could simply be
bits of a random prose
a mail
or a tweet
written by a hairy monkey
jumping and pressing random letters
on the keyboard
nor are they necessarily a choice of
polarising topics
on which you give your takes
so arrogantly
dryly
boringly
i almost yawned myself to death
bragging about your political correctness
like those fatties in the government who let roots
grow out of buttocks
into their sofas
your sentences make the trees
roll in their earthly graves
for they were used to make
paper
on which you pour your godly inspiration
but hey
that's your kind of talent
and even i gotta
give you props for it
you
so called modern poets
don't know what it means to create
word games
imagery
daydreaming
melodies
and let alone to have a thought
that is actually
your own
you
who have no skills in wielding their
verses
write in spans of five minutes
or maybe ten
i don't want to overestimate you
that's why your poems are
like a short script
that could be composed even by a dog
pooping on the asphalt
because
after all
this was written
in a few minutes
as well
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