Writing The students of 2004

[Raiha]

[COLOR=MediumTurquoise]We sit and we wait to be ruled by fear,
We are unmotivated,
we are pathetic excuses,
We wonder when will all of this end,
We long for an end to the words,
But then we long for an end to the silence.

In this molting room of mildew and dust,
In the place of shedding trees,
In such a time we are belittled,
In the evening alone we are free,
In theory there is a truth to his tirade,
But then we are slowly wounded if we truly listen.

Do you even hear me yell at you,
Do you feel an urge to do as I say,
Do I come through clearly to any of you,
Do these sentences make any sense?
How dare you give me your ********.

You don't put in enough time,
You never do what I ask you to do on your own,
You put everything off,
You can't fathom what an education is,
You won't survive in college like this,
And I wish I could be fired today.

We are the students of 2004,
The privlided cliches of honors students,
The rule of fear is working,
Our superiority is maddening,
Our lateness and procrastination is disgusting,
We are the students of 2004.[/COLOR]

[Brasil]

We sit on the verge of revolution,
We hold the future in our hands,
We are the first step into a new age,
And we have the power to change.

We were never chained to our existence,
For we were charting the uncharted territory.
We designed the battlefield,
And we made the rules,
Because we have the power to change.

When we speak, they listen,
When we scream, they listen.
When we unite, our voices becoming a defiant one, they listen,
We will not go quietly into the night,
Because we have the power to change.

We are the students of 2001,
We are the revolutionaries,
We shape the world around us.
Fear does not rule us; we rule fear,
Because we have the power to change.

We are the class of 2001,
And 2001 is the Odyssey.

***

Hehe. I couldn't resist. :p

Nice work, D'Ann. As you might have been able to tell from my quick improv poem here, I really love the focus you have on your 2004 class. I think it's a really nice angle to take, actually, how each class is so different and Ideologies and attitudes change really from year to year. I especially like "privileged cliches of honor students." It really serves to drive that class change idea home. When I was in my Senior year, a handful of students were in AP courses. Now, in 2004, everyone seems to be. AP has become a cliche, it seems, and I do enjoy how your work reflects that...tiredness of the whole idea.

Again, very nice work. A bit angsty here and there, but not too much.

[Raiha]

[COLOR=MediumTurquoise]You'd be angsty too if your AP english teacher said those things to you every day and didn't leave you very much time to do the assignments given. .......and the entire class has an angsty energy either way. I blame the climate.[/COLOR]

[outlawstar69]

My AP class is a total waste... there are kids there that don't belong, and we don't really do anything harder than what the academic kids do... we just "discuss" things more... bah. AP classes are supposed to be there so you can gain a few english credits for college, and it turns out that the school i'll be going to doesn't accept anything less than a 5 on the AP test score - that's a perfect score. Humbug.

[Raiha]

[SIZE=2][FONT=Times New Roman][COLOR=MediumTurquoise]They slithered through the water, their fanned tails guiding them perfectly. And as they broke the surface, the firm dorsal fin flicked upwards, catching the moonlight. Water ripples, very swiftly rushing away from their bodies as they rushed through the liquid. Occasionally two or three of them breached, their whole bodies curving out of the water like palm branches. No backwards motion, no pulling or awkward movements, all one smooth path up and down again. Their hair, varying lengths, but all the same moonlit color, caught water droplets and shook with their actions.

They say, when one looks into the eyes of a mermaid, he is lost forever.

The mermaids are mysterious. They keep their secrets, and know all that penetrates their realm, nothing escapes the darkness and sinister feeling of the mermaids. Sometiems they are full of lust and passion, other times they are all manipulation and hatred. But most of the time, all they seek is something new to play with.

A shoal of fish broke further out, and instantly they made paths in the water for it. Cheverons built up behind them as they leapt, swung, and curled out over the waves, scaled bodies catching light and reflecting it back in a myriad of colors. One tore away from the group and leapt upwards, her entire body curving gracefully. Then she fell back into the water and looped away from the others. Her eyes were closed, but her body was completely alert. When she stopped her swimming she rested on the mossy banks, her chin barely breaking the water. Short, glittering, moon bathed strands of hair slid down her forehead, curving around her slender face, curling underneath her cheeks and flaring away from her delicate neck. A man, alone in the forest, heard the mermaid song, and turned his head away from the mountains, to look towards the cool glittering shape he knew was the lake. The full moon rose ever so slowly, pausing at its zenith.

And the mermaid waited. Her eyes slightly open, long curling lashes dripping water. Her throat constricted slightly, then opened again, giving way to soothing clicking noises, and delicate hisses, blending together with the sounds of nature. From silver touched lips, the mermaid's song curled over the ground like a noose, settling over his ears and neck. He advanced slowly, walking very carefully over the forest floor. Gently, he set his blades down on the bank and knelt on one knee. Two huge moonlit eyes looked up at him. One webbed hand, with long curving fingernails reached out slowly for him, water dropping from the claws, touching the mossy bank. His eyes met hers, and he felt as if he was drowning in the long stare that seemed to curl into his eyes, and crawl behind them, pushing his whole being forwards.

Without breaking their connection, the mermaid pulled him down into her fathomless embrace. His gaze followed hers, and he felt the sensual touch of water on his skin. Her left hand circled around behind his neck, and her eyes closed ever so slowly. One cool pale set of lips pressed into his, setting his whole being on fire. Then it was extinguished, and he sank into her arms. Helpless, surrounded by water, wet, cold, and then a cool current that dragged him under.

They say, once a mermaid has her prey, she never lets it go.[/COLOR][/FONT][/SIZE]