Home Game

It's time for the game
Donning red and black
Hotdogs and hamburgers among the fall leaves
Booze and bottles all over the grass
Rap music playing from the speakers
Students hurrying from their dorm rooms to the stadium from the game
Each building stands tall as a temple to learning with it's white columns reaching towards the sky
This is home
Where all students of learning at any age are able to come back and rejoice in their patriotism for their school
It is turning to evening
I bet going on this campus to classes is like falling in love but I was never invited
I never got my acceptance letter
I wanted to go to this school
Wanted to lean on the edge of the upper floor of the library
Staring into the forests
Writing stories of witches, vampires, castles, Kings and Queens 
Reading Bronte, Dickens, Austen, Plath, Twain, Dickinson and Tolstoy
When I was rejected from this school
My passion wavered too
Because it wasn't the same anymore in the tropical heat
I found comfort in air conditioning behind a computer screen
Comforting myself with the idea of an occupation after college
Maybe I could enjoy those things then but I have little hope
Life isn't the fairytale I imagined
The home game begins
Fans waiting in the stands
Loyalty to the school and the promises that used to be when they were in college
"Did you hear Anne got engaged? She is a Business Administration major. The girl was in honors classes in high school. We are so proud of her."
The security is gone and I must move on but I bet being on this campus is like falling in love

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone Chapter 1 (Condensed Version)

 CHAPTER ONE - THE BOY WHO LIVED  Mr. and Mrs. Dursley of Privet Drive were the last people to be involved in anything strange or mysterious. Mr. Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills.  He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, and a large mustache. Mrs Dursley was thin, blonde, and had twice as much neck for spying on neighbors.  The Dursleys had a small son named Dudley - the “finest” boy around. The Dursleys also had a secret, and they were afraid someone would discover it. They couldn’t bear it if someone found out about Petunia’s sister’s family - The Potters. The Dursleys knew that the Potters had a small son, and they did not want Dudley associating with a child like that. It was a peculiar morning.  Mr. Dursley hummed as he picked out a tie for work, while Mrs. Dursley gossiped away as she wrestled a screaming Dudley into his high chair. None of them noticed the large, tawny owl flutter past the window. Mr. Dursley got into his car and backe
Read more

Lost in Thoughts

A cold winter and my hands are frozen My eyes are weary For a long time they were open There are piles of books Each waiting be open There are pictures of worlds Of emotions left unspoken There is a formula for the writer A certain system to be achieved We must display the characters As neither good or bad Just psychological Significant humans A location A scene focused on it's nature The sunlight pouring through it's trees The drowsy morning of a mid summer The cold walk during the middle of the night in December Christmas lights adorning the trees A girl walks with her arms wrapped around her chest Wishing it was easier Wishing he was here There are things fantastical to be written about Yet there are also those normal, everyday moments There is a mastery of language that is needed A mastery of languages A mastery of diction A mastery of lyric Yet all the same A clear voice So that anyone could read it Original but not too original Enough to se
Read more

Past Lives or Schizophrenic?

Sometimes I feel like there's two of me. There’s the one who exists right here in the now. This individual has her own views and her own ego. She is able to make decisions even when she is a callous bitch about it and the world is generally easy to understand. Then there is the other person inside of me. I swear she is the most disagreeable person. Her name is Maoko and she is my past life self. She wins a lot of the time because she hangs onto her past or should I say OUR past.  Even before that was a girl named Talulah. She was a slave woman who was murdered. None of her life was that great. She’s fucking us both over even though she is technically both of us.
Read more