social commentary – Page 3 – "2:25 PM" – Poems from Lexington High School Class of 2018

Ben Kamis // THE GAME OF LIFE

I intend to learn
The wonders of science and math, Literature and history,
All subjects, narrow and vast.

I would dabble in languages,
Exploring cultures and equations,
Of past, present, and future,
For knowledge’s sake alone.

I yearn for understanding,
For comprehension,
For a feeling of importance,
For the ability to survive in the world

On my own.

But alas I am forced
To compete with friends
For an arbitrary grade,
A grade that determines futures.

They make me lose determination,
Lose hope,
Lose sleep,
Just to play in The Game.

The river meanders endlessly and rises and falls with the moon
It was peaceful at 10am on Sunday morning but not 12
We waved at the homeless man who lived on the floating plastic house
Until we reached the furthest downstream paddling was easy
Caressing the water with the curve of my paddle only to plunge it down into the water
At the lock Peter drove us strait into to the crashing water and despite my fear I had to keep on
paddling to not crash
The upstream journey on the way back was a fight
My arms were tight and aching but I didn’t want to be at the back; I was better than that
The old Queen Thames boat chugged past which gave a short burst of speed
That old gray dock bounced with the wake of our slender racing boats
I almost hit a few bikers while carrying my long boat through the path into the hut
They hated us

Mimansa B // THE BULLY

Every day go to school
Recess
Your least favorite time of the day
Go outside
No one around to play with

Look there’s that little boy
He seems cool
Go talk to him
Make friends
It’s not as hard as it seems
At least that’s what they say

But the truth is
Your heart tries to stop you
From making new friends
Because every time you let someone in
You find out what they’re all about

Yet you risk it
Slowly approaching him
Head down
One foot in front of another
Slowly

He smiles
You’re still afraid to lift your head
He offers his friendship
You take it
Then he takes you
To use

Said it was a game
But what game demands
Only your nose to bleed
Only your heart to pump
Only your chest to scream

Said you were ready for a fight
But the moment he comes in
Your hands play hide and seek
Disappearing behind you
Nowhere to be found
Let the fist meet your face
Do it because you endure the pain
Every time he curses your name
He wants the satisfaction
And you want him to suffer

There is no excuse for what he did
But he has felt inferior since he was a kid
Mother?
He does not know what that means Father?
He’s been drowning in bottles
Whose best friend is pain

And him?
You might think his best friend
Is the popular kid on the basketball
team Who wears shades
And shades everyone behind their
back
Right?

Wrong.
His best friend has been his tears
That put him to sleep every night
Instead of lullabies
His fear is not losing a game
But the belt that is held in his father’s hand
He still has proof in the form of scars
Which he gives you to vent out his frustration
To make you feel his insignificance
In this large world.

Daniel Ong // THE HISTORY OF THE EARLY 20TH CENTURY FROM THE PERSPECTIVE OF CELLULAR BIOLOGY

So long ago, well, cells were still happy
And lived in a body, t’was strong and not shabby
But somewhere in there
Did not so well fare
Were some cells who had their lives hard and quite scrappy

And so many proteins, all throughout the cells
Wanted to just break out, right out of their shells
They wanted more space,
A roomier place,
They turned to neighboring lands looking to dwell

Now there was one cell they called Austro-Hungary,
And there were some parts in him he found quite scary
A lysosome came,
Of Serbian name,
Who took out some organelles deemed necessary

The Austro-Hungarian cell gets quite upset
And then they give the Serbian lysosome threats
They had someone’s trust
Germanovirus
And declare war when all their demands ain’t met

But France and the Russians are friends with the lys
And they think the Serbs are really quite nice
And through membrane proteins
Entered the two pro teams
And brought with them a new cell fighting device

Now this cellular war was a war of great mass
And soon the parties brought H₂ O₂ gas
They killed off each cell,
Made everything hell,
While endocytosis just crushed cells like glass

New weapons and immune systems kept on raging
While stalemates ‘tween viruses and cells kept waging
But then at long last
The fight came to pass
When Germanovirus had a forced disengaging

But trouble for Germanovirus came soon
As lack of glucose and ATP ensued
With no jobs around
No energy found
The Germans had nothing to eat; had no food

Germanovirus, he hated this fate
He rallied the proteins to restore the state
His support soon milled
His opponents killed
As he told all proteins that he’d make them great.

He riled the cell up with anger in store
Coaxed them into fighting, keep fighting some more
And… well you can guess
Just what happened next
As soon came the fight for the Second Cell War

Ben Epstein // BOLD

When I was young,
I was told
I should always
Appear bold

They told me to
Show my stance
And to always
Take the chance

Then I followed
Their guidelines
It put me on
The sidelines

So I have learned
A lesson
That silence is
A blessin’
Once I learned to
The improvement
Was profound

Mehdi Zidar // ADDICTION IN OUR LIVES

This double edged sword seems to
Control our lives,
All that we chose to put into it
Seems to never be forgotten !

We all feel an attachment to it,
A connection that can not be broken…
It’s noises and alerts keep us up at night
And the bright screen seems to always
Keep us Mesmerized.

Akul Kesarwani // NIGHTTIME

A group of armed pirates racing in broken down motorboats
Off the Somali coast attack, the Night an impenetrable shield,
Empowering their parasitic practices,
Stealing from cargo ships that carry the fruit of others’ labor.

The waves wash away our work, time wasted.
The Night enables this, it embodies the clock ticking but with progress frozen in time.
“We never have time!” A complaint that never ceases to exist. The Night an untouchable culprit.

The Night falls upon the sky, wealthy.
Wealthy, not from its own work,
But instead by chipping away at our sand castles, wave by wave.
The Night is a palace built on the people’s burden.

The palace so lavish that Versailles looks like a slum.
Our access denied even though we are the architects.
Theft from seven billion humans, our Dreams crushed by the weight of the Night.
The life of our dreams turned into lifeless bricks of our own demise.

The perfect system
Creating, crushing, and using the Dreams.
Nothing can compare to its efficiency
Except us.

Civilization reminds the Night of those that defeated it.
The Dream that escaped the clutches of the Night taunts it.
The Night consumes our pipe dreams,
But the ones we truly nurture become reality.

We store those in our secret cache
Hiding underneath the artificial light that came from Thomas Edison’s Dream.
The artificial light that illuminates our Dream
And gives it chance to shine.

Yuanhui Zhang // STRANGER

I took out a piece of paper
Carefully put it on the table.
Write my real name down carefully.
The time people call this is numerable.

I grabbed my old coat from cabinet
It was hanging neatly
had the accent from my hometown
I tried to take a walk
Try to detect the world that was unknown

Water drops are hanging on the grass.
My coat became wet.
I looked at myself in the shadow.
I was still struggling yet.

The roses hold tightly with each other
They do not know the scene outside their ground.
A dandelion was travelling alone from somewhere
I will hold her in my hand.

I put her nicely in my pocket
Give warmness to this loner
She must miss the soil that she grow up
We are both foreigner.

Someone has different appearance with me
Smiled at me and say hi
I am used to this culture and language

Jacqueline Cheng // AN ODE TO MY JEAN’S POCKETS

You know that feeling
When you find a perfect pair
That end up dispossessing
Functional pockets?

And even if it did have pockets,
They were so insubstantial
That you couldn’t fit
Half your hand into those channels.

As for the back handles,
Which can never hold a smartphone
Without it falling into purgatory.
They must get a kick from my misery.

I get it.
They have to be nonexistent
In order to be visually appealing
But guys have humongous pouches,
So why can’t we?