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Description
The Kennedy Tales

When at last at the end of class,
The bell has rung and now I awake.
Third period has ended, the monotony shall pass.
Now a feeling I cannot shake,
A ravenous hunger, its place it will take.
And lo! It is lunchtime! And we shall all feast,
Or mooch what we can from our friends, at least.
We must make our way through the perilous hall.
Cut through clumps of Freshmen taking up space and all.
It is the Lunchroom we seek! We ride North! (or so we say for laughs)
A place of food, fun, and friends, to say the least,
Not to mention the random floor stains and crumbs from last week.
I go first to my locker, two companions with me,
Myself, Misa and Oli makes three.
It is here that I will relay,
The people we see or cause us delay.
I will complain about the things that irk me,
And the things I love to see,
About these “innocent” groups of bystanders three.
First we face our most dreaded foe,
The Prep or Populars as they’re sometimes known.
There she stands dressed from her head to her toes,
All in the latest fashions and fads, and never alone.
She gathers with groups, looking like clones,
Never to know the meaning of individuality.
Or even to have the slightest difference in personality.
Obsessed with money and their material goods are the lot,
And always fawning over the latest guy they think is hot.
“Will they never fill their empty heads with anything intelligent?”
We wonder as we walk by, unable to help staring in disgust.
But wait, just as we think that the horror has passed,
Another mob it seems has amassed!
Outside what looks like my locker, of course.
It seems that from karma or any unknown force,
I would have to part this gaggle of foolish girls,
In my desperate need to reach my lunch, lest I hurl.
Perhaps this is repercussion for insulting their idiocy?
They always seem to know when I want to see them the least.
Moving about like one great big beast,
And most likely spreading more of their hurtful banter,
Over who’s dating who and why they feel they should be involved.
There are days, of course, when I want nothing more,
Than to think that they will have finally learned,
And will move out of my way without me having the chore,
Of parting that blonde and air-headed sea.
But not today! No, we noble lunchtime pilgrims three,
Must force our way through to the annoyingly voiced cry,
“Hey, that was, like, really rude! Omigosh!”
With these irksome and empty-headed girls,
We find an equally stupid and muscle-bound churl,
The Jock: swimmer, football, and soccer player alike.
He who seeks only to impress,
The girls he deems to be the best dressed.
Freshmen are not usually found in his lot,
Usually Sophomores who think and talk of themselves as hot.
(Though this is always to hide the fact that their grades are not.)
He talks a big game, like they always win,
But we know the real truth that lies therein.
All of Kennedy fawns over his “all around greatness”, not just at sports.
When we all know deep down that he deserves to be mocked,
For the general lack of skill in all except on the courts.
Some may say that his type has real brains locked,
Away beneath all the muscle and brawn.
But I, of course know the truth, the real deal about these brutes.
Like gorillas they act, from dusk until dawn.
Trying to pick up girls, whom they fight over like loot.
(Though for some, I believe, they may just play,
Any part they can to look like they aren’t gay.)
What irks me most, I do believe,
Is the way they lord over the masses,
And make no attempt to relieve,
Those stuck behind them of their sweaty stench.
Or of how they think,
That they have the right to shrink,
Our egos by acting like the best and brightest.
I wish only that they would remember,
That the only time anyone will pay attention to them is in September,
When we are ignorant, for the most part,
Of their stupidity that they always had from the start.
In this final leg of our journey, we three,
Come finally to the courtyard outside our destination, full of trees.
What hides behind these bushy lumps?
We wonder as we pass by to find,
A Nerd sitting so still I mistook him for a stump.
He does not pause to look,
To meet our fixated stares.
So absorbed is he as he glares,
At the tiny screen of the video game he finds,
More fascinating than any of the schoolwork on which he is behind.
We stand and watch in wonder,
As he remains oblivious to all,
Until a fellow Nerd comes to call.
As with the Preps and Jocks,
More and more begin to flock,
Around this once solitary Nerd.
They eschew all others at lunch,
In favor of this cloistered bunch.
This great gathering of Nerds,
In case this truth you haven’t heard,
Will revolve around the topic,
Of the latest video games and their faults.
They will then one another assault,
With stabs about lack of “mad gaming skillz”
From which they all seem to get thrills.
Of anime and manga they will also debate,
And of which characters they can all agree to love or hate.
To both these discussions we can most relate,
For if a category for Misa, Oli, and me,
(or any of my friends for that matter)
Were to be chosen then this it would be.
And now our great pilgrimage comes to an end.
Into the Lunchroom we finally go, after having to fend,
Off the Prep and her gaggle of clones.
Also the Jock, drawn to them alone,
Assisting in their blocking of the halls,
Using his muscular girth, wide as we are tall.
The Nerd and his comrades we met as well,
Even joining in their nerdly discussion for a spell.
Our table we see, the faces of our dear friends there too.
And I know that this journey of many minutes (actually only a few),
Was worth it to be here for this,
For time with those dear to me I would never miss.
And will gladly make this daily sojourn
through Kennedy’s great halls of stone,
If even for this simple reason alone.
(Though it helps that there’s food here as well).

Description
The Kennedy Tales

When at last at the end of class,
The bell has rung and now I awake.
Third period has ended, the monotony shall pass.
Now a feeling I cannot shake,
A ravenous hunger, its place it will take.
And lo! It is lunchtime! And we shall all feast,
Or mooch what we can from our friends, at least.
We must make our way through the perilous hall.
Cut through clumps of Freshmen taking up space and all.
It is the Lunchroom we seek! We ride North! (or so we say for laughs)
A place of food, fun, and friends, to say the least,
Not to mention the random floor stains and crumbs from last week.
I go first to my locker, two companions with me,
Myself, Misa and Oli makes three.
It is here that I will relay,
The people we see or cause us delay.
I will complain about the things that irk me,
And the things I love to see,
About these “innocent” groups of bystanders three.
First we face our most dreaded foe,
The Prep or Populars as they’re sometimes known.
There she stands dressed from her head to her toes,
All in the latest fashions and fads, and never alone.
She gathers with groups, looking like clones,
Never to know the meaning of individuality.
Or even to have the slightest difference in personality.
Obsessed with money and their material goods are the lot,
And always fawning over the latest guy they think is hot.
“Will they never fill their empty heads with anything intelligent?”
We wonder as we walk by, unable to help staring in disgust.
But wait, just as we think that the horror has passed,
Another mob it seems has amassed!
Outside what looks like my locker, of course.
It seems that from karma or any unknown force,
I would have to part this gaggle of foolish girls,
In my desperate need to reach my lunch, lest I hurl.
Perhaps this is repercussion for insulting their idiocy?
They always seem to know when I want to see them the least.
Moving about like one great big beast,
And most likely spreading more of their hurtful banter,
Over who’s dating who and why they feel they should be involved.
There are days, of course, when I want nothing more,
Than to think that they will have finally learned,
And will move out of my way without me having the chore,
Of parting that blonde and air-headed sea.
But not today! No, we noble lunchtime pilgrims three,
Must force our way through to the annoyingly voiced cry,
“Hey, that was, like, really rude! Omigosh!”
With these irksome and empty-headed girls,
We find an equally stupid and muscle-bound churl,
The Jock: swimmer, football, and soccer player alike.
He who seeks only to impress,
The girls he deems to be the best dressed.
Freshmen are not usually found in his lot,
Usually Sophomores who think and talk of themselves as hot.
(Though this is always to hide the fact that their grades are not.)
He talks a big game, like they always win,
But we know the real truth that lies therein.
All of Kennedy fawns over his “all around greatness”, not just at sports.
When we all know deep down that he deserves to be mocked,
For the general lack of skill in all except on the courts.
Some may say that his type has real brains locked,
Away beneath all the muscle and brawn.
But I, of course know the truth, the real deal about these brutes.
Like gorillas they act, from dusk until dawn.
Trying to pick up girls, whom they fight over like loot.
(Though for some, I believe, they may just play,
Any part they can to look like they aren’t gay.)
What irks me most, I do believe,
Is the way they lord over the masses,
And make no attempt to relieve,
Those stuck behind them of their sweaty stench.
Or of how they think,
That they have the right to shrink,
Our egos by acting like the best and brightest.
I wish only that they would remember,
That the only time anyone will pay attention to them is in September,
When we are ignorant, for the most part,
Of their stupidity that they always had from the start.
In this final leg of our journey, we three,
Come finally to the courtyard outside our destination, full of trees.
What hides behind these bushy lumps?
We wonder as we pass by to find,
A Nerd sitting so still I mistook him for a stump.
He does not pause to look,
To meet our fixated stares.
So absorbed is he as he glares,
At the tiny screen of the video game he finds,
More fascinating than any of the schoolwork on which he is behind.
We stand and watch in wonder,
As he remains oblivious to all,
Until a fellow Nerd comes to call.
As with the Preps and Jocks,
More and more begin to flock,
Around this once solitary Nerd.
They eschew all others at lunch,
In favor of this cloistered bunch.
This great gathering of Nerds,
In case this truth you haven’t heard,
Will revolve around the topic,
Of the latest video games and their faults.
They will then one another assault,
With stabs about lack of “mad gaming skillz”
From which they all seem to get thrills.
Of anime and manga they will also debate,
And of which characters they can all agree to love or hate.
To both these discussions we can most relate,
For if a category for Misa, Oli, and me,
(or any of my friends for that matter)
Were to be chosen then this it would be.
And now our great pilgrimage comes to an end.
Into the Lunchroom we finally go, after having to fend,
Off the Prep and her gaggle of clones.
Also the Jock, drawn to them alone,
Assisting in their blocking of the halls,
Using his muscular girth, wide as we are tall.
The Nerd and his comrades we met as well,
Even joining in their nerdly discussion for a spell.
Our table we see, the faces of our dear friends there too.
And I know that this journey of many minutes (actually only a few),
Was worth it to be here for this,
For time with those dear to me I would never miss.
And will gladly make this daily sojourn
through Kennedy’s great halls of stone,
If even for this simple reason alone.
(Though it helps that there’s food here as well).