newtothis
04/06/09, 06:07 PM
Before I start, I would like to say that I know this piece is a little prose like with just enough poetic devices to give it the feel of poetry. Please just bear with it and give me your honest opinion.
Reality
His head shined kind of like a newly polished pair of shoes.
"They want us to advocate more," he said.
"We can change lives and change the world," he said.
I sat half-watching, too focused on the chill bumps that
Surfaced as a result of the plate tectonics within my own skin.
I used to believe that too, you know,
all that pizazz. That Uncle Sam piping,
Mountain moving, tree hugging, heritage first
Sort of talk.
And then I came to college,
Or, if you would prefer,
Reality.
I met people.
People who would, but couldn't.
People who could, but didn't care to.
Sitting in class every Monday, Wednesday, Friday,
Listening to them beat the "problems" to death like one would a horse that didn't perform well enough at the races.
Each lash of the whip wounded mortally what used to be my ideals,
The bright sheen of my own coat clotted with sweat and blood from the lash.
They were advocating and Advocating and ADVOCATING.
For what?
A good grade in a class? An A for the semester?
A life of leisure following graduation,
when all their advocating amounted to hours in a pool float?
I used to believe that too, you know.
Reality
His head shined kind of like a newly polished pair of shoes.
"They want us to advocate more," he said.
"We can change lives and change the world," he said.
I sat half-watching, too focused on the chill bumps that
Surfaced as a result of the plate tectonics within my own skin.
I used to believe that too, you know,
all that pizazz. That Uncle Sam piping,
Mountain moving, tree hugging, heritage first
Sort of talk.
And then I came to college,
Or, if you would prefer,
Reality.
I met people.
People who would, but couldn't.
People who could, but didn't care to.
Sitting in class every Monday, Wednesday, Friday,
Listening to them beat the "problems" to death like one would a horse that didn't perform well enough at the races.
Each lash of the whip wounded mortally what used to be my ideals,
The bright sheen of my own coat clotted with sweat and blood from the lash.
They were advocating and Advocating and ADVOCATING.
For what?
A good grade in a class? An A for the semester?
A life of leisure following graduation,
when all their advocating amounted to hours in a pool float?
I used to believe that too, you know.