my high school experience

so, as wednesday is my last day of high school forever, my government teacher wanted each person to write a speech about what high school meant to them. i find that idea stupid, so i wrote a lyrical poem, in true dada fashion, of course. here it is.

my high school experience

while the guns rumbled in the distance, we had a dim premonition that power-mad gangsters would one day use art itself as a means of deadening man’s minds. as i stood on the highest peak, i shouted towards the heavens below me,

“the trout are here, good sir, and they demand your love. make the romance explosion on them if you ever want to see your illegitimate children again.”

the cheesesticks served every other tuesday in the old commons were a roller coaster of emotion and if winston churchill were to return from beyond the grave he’d undoubtedly be a robot.

my friend soren and i ventured into a restaurant the other day, and i couldn’t stop laughing because when the waitress asked what we wanted for drinks soren looked up and stammered, “if there were no eternal consciousness in a man, if at the bottom of everything there were only a wild ferment, a power that twisting in dark passions produced everything great or inconsequential, if an unfathomable, insatiable emptiness lay hid beneath everything, what would life be but despair?”

i remember the first time i met you.

i remember first entering this divine palace of learning and immediately the smell of sweet flowers caressed my nose. despite looking everywhere, i simply could not find the coffin. i urged a riot and called for my own destruction. that, it would seem, i was granted, for i could only believe in a god who could dance.

my fellow students, if con is the opposite of pro, congress is the opposite of progress, and when i am elected president i am changing the name of air force one to air force fun.

while the little green footballs of my soul were tossed against the raging winds of antiquity, i shaved off my eyebrows into a bowl of soup. they danced amongst the froth, like two star-crossed lovers on the night of their demise.

it is undoubtedly this course of action that must be taken. you reporters, you philanthropists of the heart, do this for me. imagine a boot stepping on a face for eternity, and tell me how you feel.