A Bachelors in EnglishA Poem by MofloAn Ode to Our Educations
The beach now renders sand and stone,
Occasionally, the salty tide Runs its hands as undertones Along your frail and bitter sides And, in seeping in what they confide, Uncover fossils, unused bones! While Albion produces waves That swallow poets in their prime, Some burning embers mark the graves Where Keats and Byron spend their time Developing some unread rhymes That spit out phlegm amid the slaves. For dollar-flying industries, Provoking thoughts for unused time Spent critiquing mysteries Of Nature, only when sublime, Speak louder than our musing mimes, And subdue new Antigone's. Dead now is Wordsworth, Burns, and Donne Berryman, Whitman, and Spicer, From their words, we'll spew up clones, To organize their motives nicer; "Putting trees in deli-slicers Efficiently revives the tone." And staring up into the sky In perfect silence, while the learn'd Lecturers propose idle why's, Afraid of life's established burn, You see a plane; and in return, Realize we're bred to never fly. © 2011 MofloAuthor's Note
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Added on April 28, 2011Last Updated on May 3, 2011 AuthorMofloNYAboutI am a 26 year old recent college grad trying to establish myself. Recently moved back to NY from Pennsylvania and looking for work. Now working on becoming an English teacher. more..Writing
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