{Pre-Teen Poetry} First Edition: Men

There was a lot I knew about in the 8th grade: Malls, Umbros, Abercrombie, The Chicago Bulls, and angst.

That’s right: angst.

According to a book of poems I just uncovered whilst moving out of my current apartment, 13 year old Lyndsay had emoting down to a science. A rhyming science at that.

From sexism, to the apocalypse, to racism, to dating: I covered it all. After all, who better to comment on these important issues than an 8th grader in Minnesota?

So, in honor of the young activist from once upon a teenage time, I plan on sharing one or two stanzas from these mid 90’s masterpieces, once a week, until I’m fresh out. It’s only fair that the world benefit from my pre-pubescent-ly deep thoughts.

First up, an expose on “Men”. (Someone remind me how a middle schooler knows anything about this?) I’d say my thought process is spot on. I was so mature.

I actually cannot believe I’m putting these out in cyberspace. I have a feeling I’m going to regret this. Here goes nothin’.

Men, men what can I say?

They think they’re all cool, but try as they may.

They cannot look cool in front of their ‘her’s’,

But most of their ‘her’s’ think they’re immature.

They yell and are loud to get her attention,

But the end result is usually detention.

They rant and rave and make lots of noise,

Maybe it’s cuz the only men in my class are BOYS

BOOM. Powerful ending. Well played, Lynds. So there you have it. In summation I was just 13 waitin for a real man to walk into my homeroom. So what?

I told you it was gonna be outrageous,

Bob.

Listening to:One man trying to convince another that the term “recycling” is redundant and that it should just be cycling. Oy.

On my mind: I walked into my neighborhood Thai restaurant for some Tom Khar soup and I saw a sign for a University of Chicago Case Study entitled, “Do You Overeat?”. I did not appreciate the implication, thankyouverymuch.