Thursday, February 28, 2008

 

It's Time for Some Depressing High School Poetry!



In November of 2006, I happened to come into possession of a high school poetry magazine which featured an amazing array of poetry by depressed teens. (I think the magazine was called Cumulus). I had a contest to write some depressing high school poetry, and got 31 most excellent entries. One of the better ones was this entry from Brian McKinney:

They need A/v
Calling, always calling,
Help them set up projectors...
Only to be mocked.


People here at the Razor seems a little dark and depressed lately... maybe even a little psychotic. Which tells me, friends, that it may be time for a new depressing high school poetry contest. And guess what? There will be a prize! Here's the prize: A very nice but unusual coffee mug from my extensive and totally random collection (IPLG can attest to this). So think about how bad you feel about that break-up right before prom and bring the bad poetry!

Comments:
They look at me
and laugh
All they see is my shame
and backpack
I hide after school
in a garage
Pretend that I am
with friends.

[I actually wrote that in high school. The part about the garage ws not true.]
 
The air breathed wet schnauzers.
Her dress was the color of Windex.She looked deep into his soul and said:
"Stalin - he was so mean to people. And that wasn't even his real name."
 
Algebra sucks.
I wish I were a duck.
I hate my nose
And all of my clothes.

Adam Ant, take me away.
We could go to Uraguay.
Then they would be
filled with dismay
that they did not give me
that part in the play.

Hard to be the one who is cool
when you go to 3 high schools
I was not the cool one ever
I was Mary Katherine Gallagher
 
Last week
after I drank that carton of Tilex,
I barfed
I was carted
to the ER
When I was there
I saw
That one of my fellow students
Had gotten stabbed
I envy him
 
The teacher makes me stand
I fumble for the reading
He makes me leave and
Write a memo

I can hear them laughing
Silently at my back
As I open the door
And cry to myself
 
C-- That's not high school!
 
A break up the night of the prom
What a dream that would be!
At least I would have a memory
Because for me
There was no prom,
and no one to break up with me.
 
You know, most people with angst issues are going to sign as "anonymous," meaning that the coffee cup will be hard to give away.

If I were to win, I want the City of Troy Michigan Police Department coffee cup.

But I won't, because my poems stink...and no one likes me.... That's why I wear black... and cut myself...
 
Back in '79,
there was no cool rhyme.

No TMZ or Perez-Hilton,
Just learning about John Milton.

No Britney, Lindsey or Paris,
Just Debbie, Tiffany and Feris.

Every weekend getting sauced.
I call it "Paradise Lost."
 
I loved you more than me
I gave it all to you
Even let you watch me pee

I hate seeing you with her
Stupid blond witch-face
She'll give you VD, for sure.
 
Mr. CL,

That doesn't sound Angsty at all, sounds like a good time.

I was there in the 70's too
The AM radio did not play the blues
No punk or metal, just disco & pop
Wanted to fly, somehow to leave
Wanted cute girls to like me
But when I tried to talk to them
I thought I would heave.
 
Mr. CL--
That's beautiful man.

IP--
I can't believe it was that bad...

Anon--
Gross.
 
The line for the metal detectors is long
I'm gonna be late
Those things aren't even on
And it's the "tardy tank" I hate
might as well walk up the street
to the candy house on the corner
with my other tardy friends I meet
we'll go back for football practice
 
ebc4, you don't sound very depressed.
 
Teenage angst has paid off well,
Now, I'm bored and old.

Stealing lyrics from Kurt Cobain,
He must have felt a lot of pain.

Dear Diary, my teen angst has a body count,
None of the girls from "Heathers" did I ever mount.

Huffing, Puffing, doing drugs,
They called it High School for a reason.

Freaks, jocks and preppies all,
Never let me in The Breakfast Club.

I guess I was just Clueless, but better than being Pretty in Pink.

Never was in a High School Musical,
too busy dating the Mean Girls.

Spent a lot of time wondering why,
Can't I get some American Pie?
 
Come on. Skipping school is depressing, so is football practice in August. Okay... you're right, it sucked.
 
It was worse.
 
Prom was fine
Her ankle "bracelet" matched my tie
We had an hour
Judge was gracious
Time to say hi...punch and picture
Then back to her house
Dropped her off, parents said bye

back to prom..alone.."that guy"
the one with the date at home

I should have broken the date when she was arrested

she was hot, though. I just didn't know those car stereos were too.
 
I have ears like Dumbo,
that catch the wind
and give me lift,
my untamed, uncombed hair
curled wildly around the bow
of my bottle bottom glasses.
I looked funny, but funny
Strange, not ha-ha.

The girls never gave me
a second look because I was funny,
smart and strange.
Eating alone with
the other outcasts, we were
never invited to the parties
or went on dates.

Prom was a fiasco I don't
care to discuss.
Nothing happened. Nothing.
Loneliness has no cure when
You are surrounded by people
who don't care--in fact,
they prefer it that way.

(The competition is stiff, but if I win I want an Ana-Nicole Memorial Sippy Cup Jug from the Law School)
 
death
doom
that is me
destruction
depression
the 4 "d"s
dumbness
dying wishes not fullfilled
im running out of "d"s
delusion
death
wait, didn't i already say death?
dorks
ding-dongs* *(®hostess)
mmmm... ding-dongs*
deathliness
'dows vista
sorry, bill gates!
denmark
deadbolt
is anyone still reading this?
dog
doo-doo
ha ha.. i said dog doo-doo!
dvd
okay... im out of "d" words
Love,
Math
 
I like the way that the "IPSLawGuy" tag takes you to a description of cole slaw. Nice.
 
It's dark in here
The hooks of the locker press against my skin
The world outside laughs
Must be funny

I close my eyes and pretend I'm happy.
I pretend they think I'm funny
I pretend they are my friends
I pretend it doesn't hurt
I pretend they know my name

The door swings open
Reality rushes in
My pants are wet
I pissed myself

I close my eyes
And hope they don't see me.
 
Swanny--

We told you that would happen at the business school. Those people are mean! Come back to law school already.
 
I thought I had it bad, but these are REALLLLY depressing poems...

If I look back on high school all I remember are the secret crushes I had on people, mostly on people who did not even know I was alive. Of course you NEVER EVER reveal the secret crush, mostly from the fear of possibly getting the dreaded "FRIENDS SPEECH."

I was such a spastic, prissy, nerdy Mary Katherine Gallagher clone that I really did not realize that EVERYONE felt this way... Maybe if I had TOLD a certain drummer about my secret crush he would NOT have run the other way, but I SERIOUSLY doubt it.....I was pretty much social Kryptonite.
 
I hate you all!
I hate your face!
I hate your mom!
I hate your poop!
I hate your cows!
I hate your sheep!
I hate your couch!
I hate your fingers!

Love,
Angsty Bunny
 
i love all ur depressing poetry. it helps me spiral even closer to my own, inevitable suicide. thanx!!
 
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