If I wrote lyk dis u would lauf at me Mock me U would sneer at dis poem and not bover to read it U think dat every thougt and idea must arise from an eliquent speaker That just becuz my spelling iznt great And my punctations not poverfull My Belief wont be great And my ideaz not remarkable Just think if Shakesphere had been from da ghetto If he’d had no quill and a voice so weak He’d be back alley runt singin falsetto Wud da shawl of prejudice cover him Trapped in da cloak of tyranny Enveloped by povverty Cast away by the upperz Drowned by da 1-sided pit of animosity Wud dat be da fate of the bard of Brixton Purely cuz he was shacked A worthless son Of cirulstances so futile He was banished from his dream Before he had even scribed his first letta Is that the destiny u employ of me As a result of my banal rhymes and poetry Who gets my ntritioun from ur money Whose worfless education is at ur cost While I toil In da webs of struggle While u sip drinks in ur luminous laced glass While u indulge in divine caviar While u lounge and laugh Shehzore Adi l (Year 10) LOOKIN FROUGH
Infinitely small invisible landscapes Matthew Downie (Year 1 1 ) GLASS Are opened by burnt beaches, Revealing hidden murderers Lurking in the hair of a hare. The structure of DNA enclosed In the intricate maze of a cell, The foundations of all life, Is exposed by the contents of a window. Light rebounds through endless space Ricocheting through a transparent solid To reach the curious gaze of a wandering eye Lucky enough to cross its path. Information, from the beginning of everything, Is captured by a curved lens and Forever imprinted on a Slim card of digital memory. Aged eyes are revitalised, By two slim slices of Light-tampering material Hanging off a wrinkled nose. Light passes through this, almost Imperceptible corridor, and is Transported and distorted, to Reveal that which otherwise Could not be seen.
At dat brown boy who treks town to see his family Whose shirt is unticuked and hair rowdy Assumin and Suspectin While u sweat in ur cooled Audi Well how dare u judge me Due to the fact my hand writings atroshus And my pen’s from da pound store. U assume that I am just one of dose people. The ones that hang on the estate The ones with parents who obviously failed sex ed U think I am of dose that steal benifits One of dose dat sits in my room Smokin drugs Muggiin people and actin rough And what if I am? Fate condemmed me to dis I lost da draw of life but its fine I work hard everyday My gradz might not be A’s My parentz mite be a waste But never tink dat my ideaas arent important Dat my value is nuffing Before u burst out laufin and dismiss me as a troublesome youth Take another look at me or my ‘kind’ And Remember to look a liitle closer past the dark hoodie and red eyes Past the fake bling an da knives
Remember das a person, And try to look through Cuz dats a person Just like me and not unlike U
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