Pencils up, our nerves shot,
sweat breaking our foreheads.
Are we learning or are we learning
how to get through a moment?
We kick and scream our caps and gowns off
until we are exposed to the real world.
In a one-track train of a shameless society
how does an open-minded student fit in at all?
Learn how to pretend to be learning.
Memorize phrases you must forget.
Pile the information in
for finals, then push that
collection into your acidic
stomach ’til you get sick of
learning short-term at all.
Don’t learn how to speak words,
sharp words, striking words,
elegant words, golden words.
Learn how to speak broken words,
“Hello. How’s your day?”
“Good. How’s yours?”
A nod and walk away. That
is all that is said, no answers
to questions. No emotion toward
another; that’s unprofessional.
Didn’t you learn that in school?
No, I learned how to swallow
my passions. So excuse me
if I burst into a flurry of artistic rant.
This burning rage and icy fire
seizing my soul is starting to
collide and beginning to explode.
I want to choose love over a desk.
I choose to cry these words from a
white stage of a papery backdrop.
And you, dear reader, are my audience.
How professional can one be if not for
the passion of an open-minded student?