PoetryKafe

Boys are annoying they’re always on your case,
They’ll never leave you alone,
You can’t help it you have a pretty face.

Boys are beings, ones that find it hard to flirt,
But when it comes to girls, o boy you can get hurt!

Boys are immature; they can never grow up,
Not one of a kind! Adam was just made up!

Boys are gross, have disgusting habits,
They can never clean up after themselves, only their stupid rabbits.

Boys are wild, they drive you mad!
Always ask you for a second chance, but don’t, who cares if they get sad.

Boys are players, well especially some,
Never trust a gorgeous one, you’ll never have fun.

Boys are useless, there’s really no point in having them around,
If you have your ring, throw it away so it can never be found!

by Shanice Athiemulam

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Jerks come with perks 
why do your think 
they always walk around 
with a smirk? 

I think that we should just gather 
all the jerks and toss them into a pile 
later we can all take turns 
giving them their fair share 
of all the pain and misery 
they like to spread to others 
or we could hold them down 
and squeeze them until it hurts 
then maybe they would turn out 
sweet as apple pie 
I don’t know but its worth a try!

by Purple Passion

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My parent’s genes combined to give 
Those traits I could not choose. 
But most of all I’d like to say, 
That I was born to lose. 

I don’t mean to say I have no success 
So I hope you won’t confuse it, 
But give me anything you want 
And very soon I’ll lose it. 

It doesn’t matter what it is 
Its stay with me is brief. 
I hardly know just what it is
When it’s gone like the autumn leaf. 

With all the things that I misplace 
There must be some lost-and-found quite loaded. 
There are so many bits of me around, 
It looks like I exploded. 

I lose papers, books, cups, and spoons 
And for a minute on this please think. 
I’ve never had a pen long enough 
That it ran out of ink. 

This cloud that hangs around my head 
Effecting every day. 
When I go out, confusion is the state I’m in, 
Because I always lose my way. 

Before I hand this out to read 
I should make sure the spelling passes 
And I certainly would do that task 
If I could only find my glasses.

by Geoff Weilert

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There is a set of numbers 
Of which I have always been quite hazy, 
They call the set irrationals, 
I simply call them crazy. 

How can there be a number 
Whose value is not known? 
It’s like being a giant 
That has never, never grown. 

There are numbers on the real number line, 
But where exactly we cannot tell. 
We cannot ever really find that point 
Where this number actually fell. 

When we multiply it by itself 
The answer is so nice. 
But to divide it back again, 
Is anything but precise. 

I know God created these numbers 
To make us humble so 
Because there will always be few things, 
That we will never ever know.

by Geoff Weilert

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I think that I shall never see 
A subject more logical than Geometry. 
It starts out pure and so refined, 
With a just a point that’s undefined. 
Now add a line, a point, a ray 
And pretty soon you’re on your way. 
Before you go any farther, you must include, 
Some postulates once spoken by some old Greek dude. 
Now add a definition that you can find, 
The rest comes directly from your mind. 
Now use proper logic so you won’t goof, 
When writing out a two-column proof. 
With the given facts and if logic you do heed, 
You can prove absolutely everything you need. 
Make sure you mind your p’s and q’s, 
And to do this a truth table you can use. 
If p, then q, has p implied,
That means you can have q derived. 
With given facts you will begin, 
And use your mind to fill the rest of it in. 
And when you’re done you can ensure’em, 
That you just proved another theorem. 
When the class is over, you will find, 
All the facts were generated by your mind. 
While geometry can be created by you and me, 
Only God knows the exact value for the square root of three.

by Geoff Weilert

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You could be in double-trouble 
When you have an extra-triple nipple. 
You see that is a warning sign
That you’re out of line, reading too much drivle. 
When you watch cartoons, with all those buffoons 
Who spend their day staring at a glass bubble. 
This could make you cry out “Yabadabadoo!” 
While looking for Fred’s best friend, Mr. Rubble. 
You might look in the newspaper 
For the horoscopes to find why you’re in trouble. 
If you are a rational guy, you’ll seek 
That Big Eye in the Sky,
Designed by Dr. Hubble 
Which can look deep into space 
Fascinating the entire human race. 
But, an astrologer suggests that to do your best, 
You might find the answer 
By watching your step with a little pep, 
And you might become a great dancer. 
Don’t dance on mine fields
Or else, your fate will be sealed. 
Then, you will be in big trouble 
If your home gets blown into rubble.

by Stephen J Fernbach

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Who’s in my Cracker Box? 
I found a saltine in here. 
And it’s ready for a hot bowl 
of soup. 
Would you like to jump in, 
and join me??? 
I’m ready to Crack up,and 
laugh real hard. 
Too much salt floating around 
in here. 
Gotta go… 

Who’s in my Cracker Box?

by Mr.Kim Robin Edwards

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Straight is not the only way 
1 in 10 people find they’re gay 
Some say that it’s not right 
But we’ll stand up and fight 

Parents say it’s wrong you see 
How can it be wrong to just be me 
My heart is torn into six 
All because I don’t dig chicks 

I’m dying inside and I know why 
Sometimes I wish that I could fly 
Away from this place and into the sun 
Maybe there I could find the one 

The one for me and not for you 
If only I believed that that were true 
That there was someone along the road 
That was sent for only me to hold 

But I’m starting to believe that I’m all alone 
With nothing but heft and a so called “home” 
My mom says her love for me is great 
I think she meant if I was straight 

Sometimes I feel that people hate 
Just because we don’t procreate 
They judge us wrong in every way 
But I think they’ll rue the day 

We’ll win this war in the end 
Because we’re better than all of them 
I hope they’ll see that they’re wrong 
So we can all just get along 

I’d hate to have to beat them up 
Or call them names like dirty slut 
But I’ll do it you’re not a scare 
If you want to fight I’ll pull your hair.

by Matthew Williams

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Don’t read me my rights, I will speak out quite freely 
And this fact I hereby confess. 
I don’t know about the rest of you there 
But I am truly a mess. 

That’s not to mean, that my life is quite bad 
Or that my thoughts are dizzy and flighty, 
But wherever I go, you very soon see, 
That I am very untidy. 

Where I happen to be, it is not very long 
That everything soon is chaotic 
With piles of papers, books and cups 
And one or two things quite biotic. 

I don’t try to make a mess, 
So please don’t get that impression. 
It’s sort of a natural thing 
A kind of ecological succession. 

With uncombed hair, I stumble around 
Wearing part of my lunch. 
And carry most of my stuff that I need
In a very disorderly bunch. 

So here I now sit and think
Among piles of things old and quite tossable 
Cleanliness is next to Godliness 
But for me it’s next to impossible.

by Geoff Weilert

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Don’t read me my rights, I will speak out quite freely
And this fact I hereby confess.
I don’t know about the rest of you there
But I am truly a mess.

That’s not to mean, that my life is quite bad
Or that my thoughts are dizzy and flighty,
But wherever I go, you very soon see,
That I am very untidy.

Where I happen to be, it is not very long
That everything soon is chaotic
With piles of papers, books and cups
And one or two things quite biotic.

I don’t try to make a mess,
So please don’t get that impression.
It’s sort of a natural thing
A kind of ecological succession.

With uncombed hair, I stumble around
Wearing part of my lunch.
And carry most of my stuff that I need
In a very disorderly bunch.

So here I now sit and think
Among piles of things old and quite tossable
Cleanliness is next to Godliness
But for me it’s next to impossible.

by Geoff Weilert

(No Ratings Yet)

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Every September the school year begins,
When all the preparation and meetings are done.
The bell starts the class, I stand up in front
Realizing I’m out-numbered thirty-to-one.

Just before the first words come out of my mouth,
My mind’s picture suddenly flips
I’m now standing alone, in the coliseum of Rome,
Watching the lions licking their lips.

From the earliest of times, in the classroom I’ve been,
Throughout the years in the classroom I’ve stayed.
I used to sit in the back, now I stand in the front,
Oh, what the progress I’ve made.

Each morning the pedagogical gladiator goes forth
With the sword of learning both shiny and glistening
To overcome the foes of wisdom and knowledge
And hope that there’s somebody listening.

Now over the years, the students were many
The light of wisdom has brightly burned.
I have but one hope that I might now say
Once-in-a-while there was someone who learned.

Five days a week, into the coliseum I stride,
To continue all my educational tryings.
The seats are all filled. I take a deep breath,
And pray this is a group of vegetarian lions.

by Geoff Weilert

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Whenever I eat popcorn,
I know it sounds dumb,
But I can’t help but wonder
Where the white part comes from.

From a small yellow kernel
Comes one of life’s great surprises
Add heat, hear a loud pop
And this big white puff arises.

Is there someone out there?
Who knows how to pack,
And store all that white part
In that small yellow sack.

Does God in his wisdom,
Know how to stuff
Each tiny corn kernel
With that giant white puff.

It must be a miracle
That forever astounds,
Like that car in the circus
Filled with dozens of clowns.

Whoever stuffs popcorn,
If you know what I mean
Must certainly be known
As the greatest packer ever seen.

So the next time I eat popcorn,
I add an amendment to my grace,
That the next time I travel,
He helps me pack my suitcase.

Then suddenly the light’s on
I swear to all that is holy,
That I bet it’s the same guy
That packs all those ravioli.

by Geoff Weilert

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