Table-top
a teacher's day dedication

The lines scratched between
the hardened russet pieces of plank and
the nails of a deranged carpenter.
the smooth glistening brown where
the table-top beckons.

The students find frantic ventholes from
the daily fracas of mad pedagogues and
the rectitude of youthful naughty-ism.
the institution is gilded in facism ergo
the table-top beckons.

The etiolated smile of a befuddled teacher
the confabulation with another and
the persistent discourse on scandals.
the "tsk tsk tsk tsk, I think he's rotten."
the table-top beckons.

The lecture drags on unfazed
the notion of time fading away
the pen drops and another snore emerge.
the random line on the transcript
the table-top beckons.

The underacheving scripts
the excruciating solecism "argh argh argh"
the grammar is wayward and the content.
the clock and red ink ticks away
the table-top beckons.

The ten-year series never ending
the "flip flip flip, chapter on market structures"
the intermittent yawn and a roll-eye.
the counting of sheeps and days
the table-top beckons.

The numerals never ostensible
the impart of wisdom-manqué is green
the voices lull and teeth grit.
the circle never seems complete
the table-top beckons.

The return of papers
the dismal grades
the utterance muttering incoherently.
the "She is a crazy eff-ing bitch"
the table-top beckons.

The lethargy of school engulfs for
the repose before midnight is
the sinniest sin students/staff should eschew.
the deprive accumulates and so
the table-top beckons.

.

education's a sad life .

school's insipid. vapid. period.
so are the teachers.
so are the bloody adminstrators.
and so are we.



cuRRent...jer  ¶ 12:01 am