Tuesday is only seven letters yet loads of boredom
Especially for a one deprived of sense of time offspring
Deprived of any sense actually
Busy doing nothing
I was sitting in the classroom looking out of the window
Teacher got angry and bent me over his knee
Spanked me, oh dear oh dear oh dear
For now I am lying. Like a log. Or a brick. Like a wingless flea
My teacher's words are shrapnels, children of hypocriticial-democtarical-politicions-electricions-superstitious harangue
They come, bombarding my scull
with a deafening “bang”
with a numbing “shut up”
Our code of conduct serves only moral bankrupts
“Switch off your mind and your phone” is written on the school doors
Languages are singing their foreign hymns in the dictionaries. Dubious
are intentions of pieces of chalk. They'd like to be eaten out because
what they want is to pour their white dusty semen in our inky hands.
Between your Hitler moustache and meat grinder I'll choose the last one to conform
I looked today in the mirror and saw my body checked like the uniform
Then when I brand my skin with my library number as here I am deprived even of name,
when I yield and my designs are no longer shady
Teacher, why do you still cry:
“STAND STILL LAD(D)Y”?