A Protest

“Satellite ham soaking lapsed stencil mirrored  before  pyrite faked  appliances”

These are the words my teacher wants me to use in my poem. I struggled for two days and even cannot form a draft. I hate restriction, I do not like those words, I do not feel about them. When I feel I am inhibited, I cannot write. I am missing the impulse; my subject does not find me.  So I am writing a protest here.

 

A Protest ( Feb.26)

 

Giving words for articulation

is like being showed how to live a life.

Who’s voice?  Who’s story?

Why should I care? 

I am not related to them, a pile of

dead syllabus

 

If not related, there is

no meaning or purpose after all

I like the word- relation; I like the word- life

Relation is between people, life is all living above

I am missing both to create

something not dumb.

 

Assignments can be

stupid and deprived. I cannot believe

thousands of people have to go through them, in order

to get a mark. In fact, can the trace we left

be numbered?