Adam Seale

Redeemed

Walls came crashing down
The sick mess hit the fan
It's run into the ground

Any image you can think of
To give this moment a name
When everything has been destroyed
And so much effort is in vain

Down on your knees aside your bed
Pillow soaking every tear
What once was now becomes the past
Leaving grief, regret, loathing, fear

But in the last few moments
as you sob without respite
a lantern burns, shining on to you,
a flame lit in the night

Flying through the air
In the corner of your eye
A little ball of so much nothing
Aglow with benevolently hurtful light

Into it for a moment you gaze
And right back, clear as day
Is an image of your self
shown in a different way

Every evil, every flaw, told to you or not
Every thing you've ever known, of you and you alone
Heart cringes sickly,
and uncontrolled you moan

And fight it though you try
Feel the weight for all you've wrought
All the acts that brought this moment
Your efforts are for naught

To try and make the guilt
and the spite for yourself cease
there is but one thing here to do
to leave the soul at ease

Rest and wake tomorrow
with this picture in your heart
that all you do now onward
might leave it ripped and torn apart

For now you know all you have done
for this learning, you'll grow strong
and in this, feel redemption
For you've done naught, and will do naught wrong.

Panda

Wise old bear cat, laid beneath the tree
Looking at the world as deep as it can be

People come and people go, ‘round the forest roads
From the cities far away and to... who really knows?

Running busy past your home like you were never there
Though they yet leave you alone, they dare not touch a hair

Skittering in their own realm like ants march underfoot
You wouldn’t care to do as them, but then who ever would?

Simple life is well enough, without a worry or a care
But a place to sleep and shoots to eat, to disturb that, no-one dares

But they keep on with their working
The building and sowing and lurking

Mighty old panda pear, warm in the evening sun
What do you think of our world when your day is done?

A Penna is the Top Part of Your Ear

Walk outside and greet the day
And uncover your pennas

Listen to mother nature’s sweet songs
Gently caressing your pennas

Eagerness of an infant, hugging your round the neck
Grabbing hold of your pennas

Wind comes to life, see its dancing
And feel it run over your pennas

A storm now brews and bellows its thunder
The rumble shooting through your pennas

Feel the rain as it amasses
Dripping from your pennas.

Battlefield English

         The wastes of Closrumia Ingles sat silent for the first time in eons. It was almost like the calm before the storm, the silence before the battle, the final respite before an unending torrent of pain, suffering, and hurteyness flowed once again over us, hapless students as we were. At the forefront of our misery sat the woman who would be queen… queen of PAIN that is! The Lady Sputh chuckled to herself, refilling the ink of her mighty red pen, her tool of dominance, her weapon of fear against us in our state of weakness and utter submission, passed down from generation to generation of English teachers past. It shined with a malignant light, the source of her power, crafted many years back, they say, by the first of all English teachers… Ann Glish. Since the day she was bestowed the accursed scepter of her power, she had terrorized us with unending criticism, destroyed our hopes and dreams with each failing grade she branded onto our work, and ground our faces into the dirt with each crack of the proverbial whip.

         This day, she had been almost merciful: Only two among us had been struck down, both in the morning’s ambush-quiz. As the clock ticked so steadily toward the end of the period, it seemed as though we would escape relatively intact… oh, but how wrong we were. How wrong we were.

Only one day left, we said. Not enough time for her deadly final exam of our vulnerability The crimson pen slammed to the desk, and from her drawers of accursed, endless, coffee-black-like darkness, she drew the stack of papers that would seal our fate, each of them imprinted with lessons never taught, questions never before asked, and courses not once touched during our malevolent overlord’s horrendous reign. Despite this, like the Soviet anthems under Stalin of old, it was decreed that we would know them, be it in our power or beyond.
It was beyond.

         They were passed out like arrows, shot by a foe we could all see so well but were powerless to stop. We moved to don our armor, our sweet merciful protection, the invulnerable pages of notes we had labored so long in secret to bring to be, were revealed and pulled from us. With that and just one more conveniently placed evil chuckle, the doomed battle for a passing second semester grade began. The last thing I remember of the first few moments was seeing Jason, brought down in his tacks by a surprise question on the subject-predicate relation in abnormal sentence structure… I tell you, you haven’t known pain until you stare into the smoldering pile of panicked thoughts and that was once your best friend’s face.

         I held strong, thinking my prowess sufficient. As the shock of the pop quiz faded, the groans and screams of my fellows began to echo like a really friggin’ huge drum, beaten upon like the wife of a 1950’s used car salesman. Joanna, Marcus, Rogers, all good students, all brought down one letter grade in the prime of life. No, they would not live this year to see their graduation, only a summer more in this wasteland of suffering!

         The end seemed to be near for me as well, as I pushed on through the questions, dodging every trick and mal-intended problem thrown my way… I began to gloat. I had overcome the nastiest portions of her test: Reading comprehension, obscure vocabulary and spelling, even the wave of essays which had felled half our weakened group in one blow. It seemed like I would emerge the sole victor in this fight, but… as these stories always end up going, my confidence got the BETTER of me!

“Display the infinitive used in the following sentence!”

[You are not able to save yourself!]

         I slipped. In my moment of vanity, I so foolishly underlined “save”. The answer, as it turns out, was “to save”, that is to say, what I would not have be done did-ed to me. Before I could correct my grievous error, the papers were taken up, and our doom came pouring like the red ink, almost like our blood flowing from the massive wounds in our end-of-semester grade. The world seemed to fade as she lifted that red pen, circling the sixth letter as though sealing my fate in runes.

It all began to grow dark…
But as she came to announce the end result, to gloat of her final kill tally
The end came.
And the bell rang.
And I did not ask for whom the bell rang… it rang for me.