kernel, reflections

though the fact that they were terrible did not mean that they were necessarily truthful

Month: July, 2015

when 1963 and 1974 never happened

In Maths class, Ismet is upset because
she likes George who likes Maria who likes
Nicole who likes Hassan who likes the teacher.

In Lit, we laugh at Romeo who loved
Juliet to death because no death comes out of love
and why die if you love, if you have found the one?
Mrs Esra disagrees.

In Geography, we learn of wealth springing
from the earth: petroleum oil and gas; “Oh,we have some of that!”
and then we daydream that we’re old and rich and Ismet says
she’ll buy three houses and travel the world.

In History, Napoleon is just as short as Mr.Christos
and Hakan says something about short men conquering
the world because some part of them is small and
he gets sent to the principal.

At break, we have chocolate milk and sausage pie and
Maria says she’ll marry Nicole one day
and I’m planning our summer road-trip.                                Across the country.From tip to tip.

July 20th is just another day.

Physics is cancelled and in comes a teacher
from a tiny island far, far away from here
whose people started killing each other many, many years ago and her uncle and his wife were killed in a war that led to nothing.
She says her island is small and green and pretty
but she says it’s divided (something do to with a green line)     and they speak two languages
and some people are still missing and they keep finding bones and a list grows shorter
and she’s worried because some people are full of hatred and they can’t live together because
“What if those people start killing each other again?”

I feel sorry for her island.

Next to me,Ismet is still sad because she likes George
who likes Maria who likes Nicole
who likes Hassan who likes the teacher.

And July 20th is just another day.

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die?
you wont ever die.
you’re a writer.
your words are here for ever.

this is not a poem
this is not for you to read,
this is not for you to understand
this is not for you to feel
this is not for you to cry
this is not for you to call
this is not for you to hold me tight as I sleep
this is not for you to explain why the fuck you’re not here
this is not for you to bring flowers
this is not for you to shout
this is not for you to leave, again
this is not for you to remember us

this is not for you