ALGEBRA TERRORS

My mind through thick or thin
cannot bear to imagine
that algebra is really
all that necessary to lead
a truly normal life.

Whether an artist or the
zoologist, I see no
application to really
apply towards my life - so
please don't slow down my life

'cause I really can't have the
knowledge when I don't know
when I am really all that lost.

For some reason I don't know
letters and numbers don't mix
'cause algebra really sucks.

I know I failed, I just know,
do you think I can get past
all that algebraic mess?

I am understanding less
and less every single day!
I know I won't have my way,
so please let my big fat ass,
pass this damn algebra class!

A SECOND SERVING OF TONIGHT’S DINNER

Mom’s been in the kitchen for some time,
Cleaning, dicing, chopping and prepping,
All the veggies, meat and whatever,
Putting together tonight’s dinner.

While the meat is bathing in spices,
The veggies sit and wait patiently,
Some will become part of a salad,
What’s left will be graciously plated.

Mom’s magical hands create something,
A five star restaurant would envy,
Appetizer, entrée and dessert,
Out of everyday pantry staples.

In the midst of setting the table,
I hear Dad’s key unlock the front door,
As I finish the current setting,
I hurry up to welcome him home.

He goes to greet Mom in the kitchen,
With a gentle kiss and a few words,
He then cleaned up and changed for dinner,
Then, I finished setting the table.

Mom brought her finished masterpiece out,
Set it down in the table’s center,
Dad took his seat at the table’s head,
Mom and I, across from each other.

Dad, the pack leader, served first, then me,
Mom took last, with what was remaining,
Tonight’s dinner was ethnic, comfort,
Nothing special, but homemade with love.

As Dad complimented Mom’s talent,
Combining flavor, quantity, thrift,
In creating something delicious,
Spontaneous dialogue occurred.

Most evening conversations were light,
Sharing a memory or a laugh,
From something that happened in our day,
Or flashing back to simpler good times.

Some evening conversations challenged,
Their own patience and parenting skills,
From discussing my latest progress,
Or how I just skimmed by on a test.

The highlight of my day was dinner,
From Mom’s home-cooked meals every night,
To time together as family,
We created cherished memories

When I started working in high school,
Now, I was the last one to come home,
From my long day of both school and work,
They both waited, as if nothing changed.

With each passing year, I see changes,
My dinners with them are less often,
But remain memorable and heartfelt,
Until time calls them home to Heaven.

Leaving me with lifetime memories,
Which started at the dinner table,
I reminisce on how much I miss,
Having dinner with both my parents,

I try to share this with today’s youth,
In their hurry, fail to hear my cry,
Without care to a milestone missed,
Towards their last rite of passage in life.

GOOD AND SO LONG CLASS OF '88

Its time to move past the alma mater
Of South Broward High School and go our ways.
Once we walked the halls with Bulldog spirit---
Now we walk horizons to the future.
No time in life again will be greater
Than the cheerful, fearful and tearful days.
Left behind are memories and that's it.
The time I met you I knew the future,
Would bring us a new forever friendship
That won't be forgotten too easily.
In the course of life's pleasure or hardship,
Your friendship with me will be missed deeply.
Good-bye and so long South Broward High School,
The class of '88 will forever rule!

 

ANGEL'S RAINBOW

The morning was cold, cloudy and rainy.

Thinking the day would drag on forever,
and out of the blue, I sought a rainbow.

It was not an ordinary one but –­
it was truly extraordinary!

The many colors are bright as ever,
I sought a rainbow...and had second thoughts
on what kinda day I'll have today.

Within minutes, the morning became clear,
With the sun sweeping the clouds away ... and
shining up the day ... thanks to a rainbow.  

FAREWELL

She lay silently,
only her breathing is heard.
No more barking,
or chasing the cat.

She just calmly lay
on her favorite mat.
She shakes and quivers,
and quietly rolls over.

She looks up slowly,
her eyes have lost their silvery glow,
but the puppy's sparkles,
just refused to go away.

Her tail wagged softly,
and I smiled.

No more walks,
or summer games,
just memories
and faceless names.

The empty spot
where she used to lay,
makes me sad
to think she's gone away.

Farewell, Farewell,
my loyal friend,
I held you close
to the very end.

So many things I wanted to say.
But silently,
you slipped away.
Farewell.

 

 

 

FOUR SEASONS

Mother Nature's love
    awakens her biosphere
        to blossom her gardens.

The inviting heat
    of summer breezes bring
        joy to those around.

The changing colors
    of autumn bring tranquility
        to the eyes of those watching.

The cold winter wind    
     bears no prejudices towards    
        the life of nature.

 

DRUNK DRIVERS PLAY DUI

Drunk driving is the panacea for the world's over population problem. It can be one of the most rewarding ways to kill someone or kill yourself, because you can hit front page of the local paper and become an instant celebrity. In fact, if you're the drunk driver, you won't even become injured or killed, because you are so highly relaxed from all that booze you consumed that night at the party.

It is what you might call the blast of the week, it starts out with John who organizes the place and telephones buddies to let them know about the party.

Saturday night is already here and the party is well underway for the past several hours. Everyone at the party has their hand clutching some sort of alcoholic beverage and drinking it down as if it were a glass of water. One may ask, "What is a high school crowd doing drinking?" Well, it is the legal age to vote, to be drafted, to be arrested, and of course to drink.

It's still early in the evening and everyone is "feeling no pain" from all that booze consumed. By now, it is nine o'clock and Jane, John's girl-friend, needs to go home. She has to leave early due to the fact that she lives in the next town (nearly one hour) from the location of the party.

John and Jane both get into the car and take to the streets to play D.U.I… Not driving under the influence, but rather death upon innocent victims. Hurrying at the wheel, John guzzles down one last beer. Travelling down Main Street at approximately one hundred miles per hour, they knowingly kill two elderly people crossing the street.

“WHAT!” You said it's wrong, no it's not, those old people are bound to die anyhow. Racing down the street as if it were the German Autobahn, they kill children waiting for their parents to pick them up. You say this is wrong, like hell it is, it is right because the parents are still young and can have more children in the future.

To make Jane's eleven o'clock curfew, John and Jane kiss each other good-bye. The two got home safely while several innocent lives are taken. As John was going home, he turned on the radio only to hear that two elderly citizens and several children were killed by a hit-and-run driver. No guilt, no sympathy, he just drove home and went to sleep only to play the game of D.U.I. again, with the same crowd again and again and again...

To Drink It's Your Problem, But When You Drink and Drive It Becomes Everyone's Problem, Not Just Yours!!!

 

MODEL HIGH SCHOOL STUDENT

Dennis parked behind the back fence.
The youth's eyes bloodshot,
and had the usual vacant look on his zit covered face.

His old Levi's fit tightly into his suede, knee high boots.
He sported a Motley Crue T-Shirt and an omnipresent comb in his back pocket.
The tall, lanky teen ran his comb through his blonde shoulder length hair.

Dennis reached into his front pocket and took out a box of Marlboro's.
He placed his cigarette gently into his mouth.
Below his greasy his nose, was a gathering of 15 to 20 hairs, intended to form a mustache.

Having smoked most of his cigarette, he greeted his friends.
They exchanged ideas of which hour of the day to would all skip.
The bell rang.

Dennis returned to his car.
He turned off the Motley Crue tape and searched frantically for his only folder.
Not having found it, he meandered in the general direction of his first hour Gifted       Calculus class.