Social Media Nonsense
High School Poetry
Note: I wrote these in high school after tests/instead of taking notes or paying attention. They are not good.
Physics
Learning physics is quite hard
Just like eating lots of lard
One day Nathan called it quits
And now in the corner there he sits.
Games on the calc were fun no more
Day after day his mind was sore
Learning, learning, all the day
All this stress caused him to say,
“Stop! This is tough
On my mind it’s way too rough!”
Old teach just sat there
Thinking “Who would dare?
Interrupt my lecture in my class?”
Then the boy sang Mama Cass!
Too much! Too much! To comprehend
“To the corner I must send!”
Yelled teach at the top of his lungs
The noise ceased chatter, stopped were tongues
Nathan sat there, scared and timid
Physics no longer felt insipid.
The decision made, a verdict reached
Nathan pleaded – he beseeched!
However, teacher told him no
Your punishment – that you know!
Over to the corner, with the stool
Nathan ran, thinking “I hate school!”
Homework
Forever and ever – perpetually lasting
Homework is a thing I’ll always be lambasting.
Too many problems, too many essays
I no longer have a life these days.
Once I was a young lad
And I knew nothing sad.
Always happy, always joyful,
My happiness cried out like a gull.
All that ended when homework came along
I no longer sang a happy song.
Homework, it destroyed my soul
And all it left was a big, black hole.
I no longer have any fun;
My time of joy – it’s now done.
Homework – how I hate thee
It makes me want to say, “Gee
How dumb you are
I’ll run you over with a car!”
Homework is a terrible thing
I’m no longer happy – I do not sing
My joyous tales of days long past
Homework – it will always last.
Tests
A test! A test! A test you say?
Oh I might, I hope, I may;
Maybe I will do my best
Better than all the rest!
Physics is hard, Chem the same
As long as I don’t play the Algebra game,
I’ll do well, I’ll do fine
The best grade – an A – is mine!
I have worked my tail off
Just like Tarkin, the Grand Moff.
I’ll take my test and do great
If I study at this rate.
I must work, I must achieve
Or else from this school I will leave!
I have materials, ready to start
I got these pencils at K-Mart.
So here I go, ready to begin
As House of Pain says – Pack it in!
All the material is there in my head
My head is not full of lead!
I will not fail, I cannot fail
Through this test I will sail!
Chem
Chemistry is quite fun
The textbook, though, weighs a ton!
Learning, hearing, every day
It just makes me want to say
“Boy, this is great!
The noble gases are Group Eight!”
Say, what do you see?
Is Abbas teaching chemistry?
Awesome! That is good!
We will learn much, yes we should!
Once we learn, we apply
However, this makes me sigh
For I am tired and frustrated
Once I finish, I am elated
The overhead projector shows me a lot
And teaches me the knowledge that I have sought
There’s a quiz, a review sheet
Now we all get new seats
A full day in chemistry
I am ready, can’t you see?
To leave, until tomorrow
Until then I am filled with sorrow
One reason only, don’t you see?
It’s because I love chemistry!
Poetry for Mathematics
While sitting in his desk today
Nathan threw his life away
While learning trigonometry
He sat there saying – “Don’t ya see?”
This stuff’s boring, dumb as crap!
So I am going to take a nap!
The teacher called out with hand and ruler
Just like Stein in Ferris Bueller
“Wake Up, wake up!” students said
They couldn’t see that Nate was dead
His brain shut down as he slept
At math he was no adept
Because of boredom while in math
He had faced the teacher’s wrath
The teacher hit him – hard and loud
Oh man – a terrible sound!
No one could see that he had passed
The teacher was the one to touch him last
“Awake!” yelled teacher – to no avail
And here at the end of this tale
The grave called out, “Come, come!”
For Nathan died of boredom!
Brother, Be God
It is a sweltering summer day. It is the middle of July in Florida. I have not moved from my location on the peeling leather couch in three days. The Jaguars, as always, have let me down.
I rise from my sweat-soaked seat on the sofa. I pull on a wife beater and grab my keys.
The 2010 Hyundai Elantra in the driveway was paid for in cash. It is registered under an alias. A man who never existed bought and drove this car.
I turn the key in the ignition. The engine roars to life. I stare at the dashboard like a lobotomized 16 year old, my mouth agape as a strand of drool escapes down my chin.
The gas tank is full. The fuel in the car is stolen, like always. I siphoned the gas from a fleet of Xfinity trucks off of Philips Highway at 3 in the morning on various Tuesdays and then walked home with the gas cans.
I am driving on the interstate. The fuel gauge reads at half-full. I have just exited Ocala National Forest on Interstate 10. My fingers absentmindedly tap on the steering wheel. That is, what’s left of my fingers. I cranked the heat on a griddle to max and put my hands on the metal until my fingerprints were melted off and I was left with charred flesh. In that moment, I was omniscient.
The fuel gauge now reads at one-eighth full. I have reached a cold front and the heat in this car does not work. My teeth start to chatter. The metallic clinking of my teeth starts to create a tune eerily similar to Shostakovich’s 13th Symphony. Every tooth in my head was systematically replaced by 32 small blocks of homemade titanium alloy. I have no dental records and the only thing that could identify my burnt, ruined corpse would be those metal teeth, which have no identifying marks and were machined using a method I learned in my dreams. I am, in this moment, omnipresent.
My car putters to a halt and I abandon it on the side of the road in Pensacola. My gaunt, frail body trudges wearily along the side of the road. I walk up to a stranger – but how could she be, as there are no strangers, only those who haven’t met me yet – and utter a guttural groan. The soles of my blackened feet fell off long ago, and I can only manage a bleak and weary smile at the woman’s horrified face. I pull a .45 magnum from the waistband of my pants and offer it to her. The fully loaded weapon trembles in my hand as I telepathically communicate with her.
“I am no one. I am everyone. I have never existed and I have existed everywhere. Please, take this gun. Put the barrel into my mouth and squeeze the trigger. In the moment where your finger depresses the trigger and my brain matter, skull, and blood splatter over your sundress, I cease to be and for one tiny, perfect moment of ecstasy, you are God.”
But she doesn’t take the weapon. They never do. She screams and faints. They always do.
I have to do it myself.
I become God.
His 14,298,650th iteration.
I awaken on a leather couch, sheathed in sweat.
Nate Livsey 
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