An analysis of the tags of people at our school and things they do, because I tend to label people. And yes, about the band geeks, there are good musicians out there. They're just masked by the sheer crapitude of everyone else.


Analysis

A is for the A-students,
who focus on school and school alone,
and I'm going to feel sorry,
when they're fifty and all alone.

B is for the Band Geeks,
our teacher rules their life,
they play trumpets, french horns, clarinets,
which causes bitter strife.

C is for the Crackers,
that pretend all day that they're black,
and the Teen Girl Squad would proudly proclaim,
that they're wiggidy, wiggidy wack.

D is for the Drama Scholars,
who are so plastic it kills,
yet they make a ton of money at it,
counting all their dollar bills.

E is for the Evangelists,
crosses 'round their necks,
trying to enforce their religion,
and getting no respect.

F is for the Fall Out Boy Clones,
that start their own band,
then quit two weeks later,
with no crowd to give them a hand.

G is for the Gangstas,
rapping about their lives,
slinging dope, weed, and any other drug,
and killing the one that connives.

H is for the Hockey Players,
and there are oh so few,
none of us watch the Stanley Cup,
but they're the ones that do.

I is for the IK A BOB,
written by masterful Phil,
check it out, if you haven't already,
but rate it badly and he kills.

J is for the Jocks,
who make fun of all others,
and if it meant playing another sport,
they would abandon their own brother.

K is for the Kevlars,
or the gun freaks to you,
they know every single brand,
and love the loud BOOM!

L is for Literary Nuts,
I'm one of them,
they write about their life,
and any such whim.

M is for the Mixers,
Djaying is their sport,
step up behind the turntable,
and step into their court.

N is for the No-Frienders,
they've got no one at all,
they love their sharpened knives,
and they eventually take the fall.

O is for the Opiates,
they're the true fools,
they abuse their bodies,
and think they're really cool.

P is for the Preps,
oh god, where to begin,
for one, I think I'd die,
if I were ever one of them.

Q is for the Quiet,
they never say a word,
and they believe that it's the best,
for their voices not to be heard.

R is for the Rednecks,
they say, "git 'r dun!"
and even if you're a girl,
they'll still call you "son".

S is for the Stalkers,
they're pretty much creeps,
and I'm pretty sure they're insane,
in the mental deeps.

T is for the Talkers,
they sit around telling tall tales,
and when they catch wind of the pain they've caused,
they sit and do their nails.

U is for the Uglies,
and they'll be successful in the future I trust,
they're made fun of every day,
people feel that they must.

V is for the Vicious Clones,
punk rockers at the best,
Sex Pistols T-shirts every day,
they don't care about the rest.

W is for the White Pride,
disguised racist gits,
challenge their ideals,
and see their lack of wits.

X is for the XTC Users,
they go to raves every night,
and they're the people you read of,
dying of imaginary fright.

Y is for the Yacht Owners,
or the spoiled rich kids,
they're even rich in other countries,
with five million quid.

Z is for the Zen,
their resting heart rate twenty five,
and they need their yoga,
just to stay alive.

THE END





Poetry by Lucas
Read 480 times
Written on 2006-05-10 at 16:43

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Kathy Lockhart The PoetBay support member heart!
Hello, first time to read your work. I am glad that I did. This is very, very good. You did a great job of analyzing people by groups, describing them as you see them, including yourself. This is truely what happens in secondary schools. It happend when I attended many years ago. We had greasers, preps, the nobody's (me) and so more. I just can't recall them all. Your form and rhythm are good. Excellent work!
2006-05-11


CherryFairy
I label people too, I've just never labeled myself. I dunno what I am. I write, but that's not my life. I play field hockey, sure, but I don't live for sports. I don't know. I'm surely not A because I can't get A's.
Well, whatever. I have issues.
Great write, again. Another 5-er.
2006-05-11