What are these devices,
of zero to one button,
screens sensitive to touch
more so than heads of cocks...
and hens.
Communication at learning hours,
Remember the good old days of torn corners of pages,
those days not even eight 365's and two 366's ago.
The paper days.
Messages of younglings
at max rated R,
instead of triple x.
Hands always quiet
from sneaky trades to peers.
All could draw,
as graphics of the youthful spirit
were penciled,
not pressed.
Even getting caught,
in the paper days,
was better.
One message:
"Mr. Blank's got swamp ass, I can smell it."
Caught by text may the message easily hide.
Caught by paper,
punishment most often be sharing it...
And in the silence of the classroom,
only acquainted by humming of air,
you or Mr. Blank's would share to all
about Mr. Blank's swamp ass.
And though caught,
none would ever be a complete loss.
Those were the paper days.
YOU ARE READING
CLUCK NO
PoetryA collection of both emotional and humorous poems about growing up and other frustrating parts of life that'll sound alright in your head, but just plain stupid out loud. !!!WARNING!!! This is not a compilation of chicken poems.
