Friday, April 09, 2010
favorite poems about teens
Hallway Between Lunch and English
(Freud Can Kiss My Sexually Ambiguous Arse)
we all like to strut
(squeak of black boots on yellow linoleum)
and show our teeth
in primitive smiles
(crack of bubble gum
like the sound of a slamming locker)
we put on our chatter
like red lipstick
with the same amount
of greasy enthusiasm
all our secret glances are pulled on
like a fishnet stocking over white thigh
oh the brittle irony
slips out
like smoke pouring from sultry lips
we are all armed
with our polysyllabic sabers
uniformed by our lust
united by our laughter
unique by our will
we march together toward
the war we cannot name
but at least we are dressed for it
--Danya Goodman, age 15
Things I Have to Tell You
Paul Hewitt
Please, sir, I don’t mean to be disrespectful.
I did raise my hand.
I mean, who cares if Macbeth becomes a monster,
If Huck Finn rescues Jim,
If Willie Loman never finds happiness?
They’re just characters in books.
What have they got to do with me?
I mean, I’m never going hunting for white whales.
I’m never going to fight in the Civil War.
And I certainly don’t live in the Dust Bowl.
Tell me instead how to
Make money, pick up girls.
Then maybe I’ll listen.
You got any books that deal with real life?
--Mel Glenn, Class Dismissed II
(Freud Can Kiss My Sexually Ambiguous Arse)
we all like to strut
(squeak of black boots on yellow linoleum)
and show our teeth
in primitive smiles
(crack of bubble gum
like the sound of a slamming locker)
we put on our chatter
like red lipstick
with the same amount
of greasy enthusiasm
all our secret glances are pulled on
like a fishnet stocking over white thigh
oh the brittle irony
slips out
like smoke pouring from sultry lips
we are all armed
with our polysyllabic sabers
uniformed by our lust
united by our laughter
unique by our will
we march together toward
the war we cannot name
but at least we are dressed for it
--Danya Goodman, age 15
Things I Have to Tell You
Paul Hewitt
Please, sir, I don’t mean to be disrespectful.
I did raise my hand.
I mean, who cares if Macbeth becomes a monster,
If Huck Finn rescues Jim,
If Willie Loman never finds happiness?
They’re just characters in books.
What have they got to do with me?
I mean, I’m never going hunting for white whales.
I’m never going to fight in the Civil War.
And I certainly don’t live in the Dust Bowl.
Tell me instead how to
Make money, pick up girls.
Then maybe I’ll listen.
You got any books that deal with real life?
--Mel Glenn, Class Dismissed II
# posted by Dennis @ 9:53 AM 
