burnt out

its been forever and a while since i sat down and made words from emotion. I've temporarily lost the ability to create, what with being caught up in daily assignments and presentations, university is ridiculous. I guess its good to be mentally stretched. I just cant wait for it to be finished so i can get back to me.

This stayed with me...from the day i read it .. the first lines i want to learn by heart... anyway havnt posted in ages but its whatever

Frankenstien

No one sits beside the prof here in the dark,
But behind me they whisper and giggle and bark
Their disdain for what? The poetry, the black
And white, the naïveté of the monster, its lack
Of common sense, which they possess in spades?
Aren’t we, too, pieced together from open graves?

To the monster the child was like a flower,
Therefore she was a flower, and since a flower
Can float, so should the child. But she can’t, she dies.
To the students, some thirty years younger than I,
The monster is merely dumb, the girl a splash,
Like a punch line, a machine to produce laughs.

The prof packs his notes, useless, dismisses the kids,
A few linger with questions I can’t rid
Them of, ever-children drawn to the abyss.
A bus passes; I wave it on. What is
The night to do when its terrors shed their beauty?
I stumble home, past villagers hungry for duty.

- Tom Whalen