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This is a play on the Obey series by Shepard Fairey.

~How to flunk communications in 30 minutes or less

After six months of being a good little drone and completing packet after torturous packet designed to help me decide what I want to do with my life I’d had enough. First of all, at fourteen, I have only the vaguest of ideas of what I might want to do with my life. Right now I just want to have fun and explore. Secondly, even if I did know exactly what I wanted to do it isn’t anyone’s business but mine.

I was overdosing on monotony, so I tossed out all the work I’d done preparing for my career goals paper and penned the essay below in less than thirty minutes. Although the paper meets all the requirements of the assignment, apparently my teacher wasn’t very happy with it. In fact she was so unhappy that I wasn’t allowed to present it to the class. The end result is that I received a zero for the assignment, and my freedom of expression was denied. Okay the truth is the zero didn’t bother me. I got out of giving a speech and won’t be put in honors English next year, so it was sort of a win win situation for me.

Still some of my classmates wanted to see the paper, so I decided to publish it here for the whole world to see. Laughing here, you can even give it a grade if you like! Read More...

Youth of a Nation Lyrics
Last day of the rest of my life
I wish I would have known cause i'd have kissed my momma goobye.
I didn't tell her that I loved her or how much cared or thank my
Pops for all the talks and all the wisdom he shared.
Unaware I just did what I always do.
Everyday the same routine before I skate off to school
But who knew that this day wasn't like the rest,
Instead of takin the test I took two to the chest.

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I have gone out, a possessed witch,
haunting the black air, braver at night;
dreaming evil, I have done my hitch
over the plain houses, light by light:
lonely thing, twelve-fingered, out of mind.
A woman like that is not a woman, quite.
I have been her kind.

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HOWL

For Carl Solomon

I

I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by
madness, starving hysterical naked,
dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn
looking for an angry fix,
angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly
connection to the starry dynamo in the machin-
ery of night,
who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat
up smoking in the supernatural darkness of
cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities
contemplating jazz,
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