The problems with school are many
But the primary lamentation
Is that the methodology
Lacks invigorating implementation.
Instead of “teaching math”
We could promote symbolic logic.
Instead of “reading textbooks”
Let’s devour tomes-pedagogic.
Instead of “learning new words”
Let’s rejuvenate the vernacular.
It’s these zeitgeist-alterations
That would make school more spectacular.
Filed under Poems
Via obfuscatory principles
And derivative pomp
It is my imperative to greet you
To my academic romp,
Wherein the equilibrium,
Elasticities, and curves
Shall give M. Night Shyamalan
Envy of my topical swerves.
I do hope to saturate you
In the ways of Bayes and Nash
While displaying free-market principles
By trading good grades for cash.
Please infer your syllabus,
Or you shan’t this lecture win.
Now, like a prisoner’s dilemma,
To start, we must begin…
Filed under Poems
If money grew on trees
We’d see fewer thieves,
And we’d have a new perspective
On the growing of mint leaves.
If money grew on trees
The forests would be shining
And all the coins as foliage
Would cut back the need for mining.
If money grew on trees
Then natural selection
Would show us who new world leaders are
Before their big election.
If money grew on trees
Interest in forests would grow.
No one would buy stocks;
Their investments would really grow.
If money grew on trees
Fewer fires would start via smoker
And Casinos all would move outside
For better games of poker.
If money grew on trees
One question still remains
Which raises important fiscal concerns:
What happens when it rains?
Were I to write this poem
Like an academic paper
I would start by saying what I want to say.
I would then go into the body
Of the work in which I write
What I’ve said, but in many different ways.
It goes on like this for a while,
Me saying what I’ve said
And comparing to what others said before.
Then I’d conclude this poem
By summing what I said I’d say,
And that’s why academia’s such a bore.
Filed under Poems
Originally composed in 2012, this epic poem spans the bridge between treatise and children’s poetry. It reveals to us our own ephemeral lifestyle of insults, mindlessness, depression, old ladies whispering “hush,” and the African tourism industry Now, published for the first time, this masterpiece of modern literature, no, the definition of the future of art, is made accessible to the general public. Also, the emperor’s new wardrobe has arrived).
Good morning room,
Good morning moon.
Why are you up in the day
You stupid buffoon?
Good morning chairs
Good morning bears.
Good morning kittens
And the hairballs they spittin’s.
Good morning clocks
And good morning socks.
And green eggs and ham rocks
In a box with a fox.
Good morning comb
And good morning brush.
I feel like a nobody…
My heart turns to mush.
(And something about an old lady
Whispering “Hush.”)
Good bye stars
And good bye air.
I’m going on vacation to somewhere in Zaire.
You get it, right?
Filed under Poems, To the Reader
