Non-wan Treasure Hunting Pride Flag


PROMPT #3:

write a poem in which a profession or vocation is described differently than it typically is considered to be. Perhaps your poem will feature a very relaxed brain surgeon, or a farmer that hates vegetables. Or maybe you have a poetical alter-ego of your own, who flies a non-wan, treasure-hunting flag with pride.

 

Loud low-info everywhere.

Think I’m racist? I don’t care.

Tranny psychos causing drama?

Love them as hard as I love your momma.

Zionists out to kill the poor;

Call me a Nazi. I’ll endure.

Pentagon war-lords making good?

As long as it’s not MY neighborhood…

All our taxes straight to Ukraine?

Truth is lies, but I feel your pain.

Bombing schoolgirls in Iran?

Well that’s how righteous wars are won!

 

 

  

 

Specialists Converge

 

Credentialed teams of specialists
Review the troubled student lists.
The ratio is eight-to-one:
Master degrees to restless son.
Endless action-steps prescribed,
Services offered, or denied…
Recent to their foster-nation,
Parents need interpretation.
Data-driven milquetoasts mild
Converge upon the clueless child,
Whose PPT drags on forever;
Second hands begin to sever
Time from minutes, hope from haste
(Student-centered, outcome-based).

 

 


Pretending to follow Prompt #2:
write your own poem in which you recount a childhood memory.
Try to incorporate a sense of how that experience indicated to you, even then,
something about the person you’d grow up to be.

 

 

 

Tanka Gas Station

1.      Gas Gauge

Such dull syllables
Faking their significance
Combine to form a
Caricature of themself.
(Your tanka’s almost empty)

2.      Driving on Fumes

Schizoid linguistics:
Odd orientalisms
Haiku up the price
So you count grim syllables
As if they had some value.

3.      Essence Refilled

Debit or credit?
Press for receipt: yes or no
(Please see attendant.)
Now you’ve filled up the tanka.
Now your poem can explode.