A School of Stupids

– What’s the name of this little town?
– It’s just called a town.

The Voice (Victims of Hate)

See those people?
We are victims of hate
Watch your words before it’s too late
(victims of hate)

I am the voice of those afraid to speak,
Those of us society calls weak,
Those you ridicule every day,
The ones who have nothing to say.
We have feelings too, okay?

I am the voice of those alone,
The ones abandoned and on their own,
The ones who hide their pain in their eyes,
Those you never saw cry,
Those of us you just pass by.

I am the voice of those you forget,
The ones society regrets.
Though you see us, you don’t care
Whether or not we are here,
And we, like shadows, slowly disappear…

Your words, they cut like knives,
but they’ll never bring us down.
You may push us in the deep end,
but we will never drown.

Your words, they burn like fire,
but we’ll not let them scar.
You can’t bring me down.
We’ve gotten way too far.

So don’t waste your time on us.
You’ll not see us cry.
You may have brought us down a bit,
but we’ll continue to fly.

See those people?
We are victims of hate
Watch your words before it’s too late
(victims of hate)

In the Deep of Her Mind

She remembers what she chooses, not what was,
A life spun in the web of her own cause.
Moments flicker, but only those that gleam,
Her past is not a book, but a dream.

The voices of others fade in the air,
She’s deaf to demands, untouched by despair.
What doesn’t strike fire in the deep of her mind
Is forgotten, like smoke on the edge of time.

She keeps only the colors, the light, and the song,
The rest vanishes as though it didn’t belong.
She walks through the world, her head in the sky,
A mirror of stars in the curve of her eye.

She paints her past in hues of vibrant dreams,
Where mundane fades and only magic gleams.
The harsh words spoken, the judgments cast aside,
Dissolve like mist upon a morning tide.
She crafts a narrative, a tapestry so bright,
Where shadows vanish in the golden light.

When they try to remind her of rules or regret,
She smiles, for she knows what they easily forget:
Her world is her own, a canvas unblurred,
Painted with memory, not bound by their word.

She lives as she wants, not fearing the cost,
For nothing is broken if nothing is lost.
The past is a whisper, the future a sigh –
She lives in the now, with wings that can fly.

She paints her past in hues of vibrant dreams,
Where mundane fades and only magic gleams.
The harsh words spoken, the judgments cast aside,
Dissolve like mist upon a morning tide.
She crafts a narrative, a tapestry so bright,
Where shadows vanish in the golden light.

Drawings in the Margins

(He stands before the class, oblivious and serene,
Unaware of the passion, the feeling that lies unseen)

She sits at her desk, eyes cast down,
Sketching in silence while others clown.
In the margins of notebooks, a secret takes shape –
A face she adores, a heart out of place.

Her teacher, unaware, stands tall at the board,
Each word he speaks, a note she’s adored.
In every curve of his smile, she finds a dream,
But it’s a love she must keep unseen.

Her classmates giggle, point at her page,
Mocking the whispers of feelings that cage.
They don’t know the weight of her quiet sighs,
Or the way he shines in her joyless eyes.

Her cheeks flush hot with shame, her heart a heavy stone,
The tender lines she drew, now mocked and overthrown.
He stands before the class, oblivious and serene,
Unaware of the passion, the feeling that lies unseen.
(He stands before the class, oblivious and serene,
Unaware of the passion, the feeling that lies unseen)

She draws him in pencil, soft and light,
A portrait of longing, hidden from sight.
But the world is cruel, with laughter that stings,
And the bell rings loud, like broken wings.

And whispers turn to laughter, echoing in the hall,
Her notebooks found and opened, exposing her to all.
The glances sharp and pointed, the snickers low and mean,
Her secret love, a spectacle, for everyone to glean.

Her cheeks flush hot with shame, her heart a heavy stone,
The tender lines she drew, now mocked and overthrown.
He stands before the class, oblivious and serene,
Unaware of the passion, the feeling that lies unseen.
(He stands before the class, oblivious and serene,
Unaware of the passion, the feeling that lies unseen)

In the Twilight Zone

In the halls of school, she walks alone,
A quiet girl in the twilight zone.
The whispers follow, sharp and cold,
Their taunts and laughter uncontrolled.

They pull her down with words like chains,
Invisible bruises, silent pains.
She hides her tears behind her eyes,
Where no one sees the hurt that lies.

At home, her voice is soft, unheard,
Her sorrow wrapped in unspoken words.
She looks for comfort, some small sign,
But her parents missed the warning line.

They’re busy with their lives, their day,
And when she speaks, they turn away.
“You’re fine,” they say, “just let it go,”
But they don’t see the weight she knows.

Her room becomes her only shield,
A place where broken hearts can heal.
She cries into the empty night,
Hoping someone sees her fight.

Stupids call her names, concocted from spite and jest,
Poke at her dreams, put her fragile strength to the test.
She longs for comfort, a hug, a listening ear,
A teacher to tell her, “You’re safe, there’s nothing to fear.”

But the silence persists, the void stays wide,
Leaving her adrift, with nowhere to hide.

In her room, a refuge, she writes in her diary’s keep,
Of the pain and the loneliness, the secrets she can’t speak.
And she wonders, in silence, if anyone will care,
If the world keeps turning, leaving her in despair.

And the silence persists, the void stays wide,
Leaving her adrift, with nowhere to hide.

A Dialogue (With Myself)

– Hey, little me, what do you see?
– I see a girl who’s small and free,
But one day soon, I’ll stand so tall,
And chase my dreams beyond this hall.
I’ll graduate, you’ll see me there,
With cap and gown and windswept hair.

– But what comes next? Will you know how?
– I’ll figure it out, it all starts now.
I’ll walk through doors I’ve never seen,
To places I’ve only touched in dream.
And maybe—just maybe—I’ll meet someone,
A teacher, perhaps, when the learning’s done.

– Wait, a teacher? What do you mean?
– You know, the one who’s sharp and keen,
Who sees the world in a different way,
Who makes the dullest subjects play.
He teaches now, but one day, who knows?
Maybe love blooms while child grows.

– Don’t be silly, child, you’re ten, he’s ancient, thirty-two!
It’ll take many years before then, before he can notice you.

In the quiet of her room, she speaks,
A girl with dreams that stretch for weeks,
She talks to herself in a voice so clear,
Imagining futures that feel near.

– But how can you know? How can you tell?
– I’ve watched how his eyes light up so well,
When he talks of books, of art, of life,
I wonder—could I be his wife?
It sounds so strange, I can’t explain,
But it’s a thought I can’t contain.

– So, you’ll keep dreaming? You’ll wait, and see?
– I’ll wait, but I’ll also be busy being me.
I’ll study hard, I’ll laugh, I’ll roam,
I’ll make a world I can call home.
And our paths align someday,
I’ll smile and say – “I knew the way”.

– Don’t be silly, child, you’re ten, he’s ancient, thirty-two!
It’ll take many years before then, before he can notice you.

In the quiet of her room, she speaks,
A girl with dreams that stretch for weeks,
She talks to herself in a voice so clear,
Imagining futures that feel near.

The Enigma of Time

In the labyrinth of time, I lose my way,
Questioning the present, day by day.
Is now the future, gone with the flows?
Or yesterday’s echo, in a bygone repose?

Does the past pave the path to this moment’s gate?
Or does the future whisper secrets, before it’s too late?
In the perpetual cycle, where does now reside?
A bridge between eras, or a standalone tide?

I am the sum of both, the light and the night,
A paradox, a balance, a perpetual fight.

I chase my shadows, I chase my dreams,
Through tangled timelines, nothing is as it seems,
Caught in the spiral, I twist, and I turn,
In the labyrinth of time, I yearn, and I burn.

They trade places in a dizzying spin,
Lost in the chaos, where does one begin?
A fragmented self, a fractured mind,
Searching for peace, a truth to find.

I am the sum of both, the light and the night,
A paradox, a balance, a perpetual fight.

Within these walls, a thousand whispers roam,
Each voice a shade, a facet of my home.
A child’s lament, a warrior’s fierce cry,
Beneath one skin, a chorus greets the sky.

Which hand is mine? Which gaze reflects the truth?
A shattered mirror, fragmented in my youth.
One step I take, a hundred paths unfold,
In this mosaic, stories yet untold.

I am the sum of both, the light and the night,
A paradox, a balance, a perpetual fight.

The gentle breeze, a tempest in my mind,
Where fractured selves are intricately entwined.
A symphony of discord, sweet and strange,
In this internal dance, I constantly change.

Where Her Heart Lives

She heard the news, but it didn’t seem true –
A whisper of loss in the afternoon hue.
They said her teacher had gone away,
But she saw him still in the light of day.

In the classroom’s quiet, his voice remained,
Soft as the rain on windowpanes.
But now they said he would speak no more,
A door had closed, they said, – a door.

That night she drifted, the moon held tight,
And found him waiting in the quiet light.
“Don’t believe them,” he whispered low,
“I’m here in the place where dreams still grow.”

They wandered through halls of endless sky,
Where questions bloomed and thoughts could fly.
She asked him about the things unknown,
And he smiled as if she’d always known.

And though the world said he was gone,
She knew he lived where her heart lives on.

The dream-world bloomed in colors bold,
A story waiting to unfold.
He showed her galaxies, unseen, unheard,
Whispered secrets in a hummingbird’s
Quick, fluttering wings, and taught her how to find
The hidden magic in the human mind.

He spoke of journeys, not of ends,
Of knowledge shared, and how it mends
The broken pieces, fills the empty space,
And leaves a warmth in time and place.
“Don’t believe,” he smiled, “what you can’t see,
The best parts of us live eternally.”

And though the world said he was gone,
She knew he lived where her heart lives on.

The Shifting Sands of Life

– Do you hear me, teacher, from the other side of time?
I call your name in silence, asking for a sign.
– I hear you, child, in the wind and the rain,
In the quiet moments when you speak my name.

– I’ve stumbled so often, unsure where to go –
Is it fate that guides me, or choices I don’t know?
– Fate doesn’t seek to break you, my friend,
It molds you gently, again and again.

– And love? Is it fate that draws us near –
The people we cherish, the ones we hold dear?
Or is it chance, a fleeting embrace,
That we meet, then part, without lasting trace?

– Ah, love is the mystery, both fate and free will,
A garden you tend, yet it grows as it will.
The hands that you hold, the hearts you entwine,
Are the stars in your sky, but their light is divine.

– Will we meet again, you and I, on that shore?
When this life is done, when I ask no more?
– I’ll be there, child, in the morning light,
In the quiet dusk, in the stars at night.

Heaven’s silence competes with Hell, that’s guaranteed to make you tell…

The script is vast, the pages yet unturned,
The ink flows freely, guided by your hand.
Potential slumbers, lessons to be learned,
Choice shapes the story, on life’s shifting sand.

– But death, dear Teacher, does it end the play?
Or is it merely turning of a page?
Does fate conclude, or light another day?
– Death is a doorway, not an ending wall,
A transformation, like the chrysalis.
The spirit soars, far beyond your thrall.

Heaven’s silence competes with Hell, that’s guaranteed to make you tell…

The script is vast, the pages yet unturned,
The ink flows freely, guided by your hand.
Potential slumbers, lessons to be learned,
Choice shapes the story, on life’s shifting sand.

Heaven’s silence competes with Hell, that’s guaranteed to make you tell…

Into the Void

I don’t know who I am, or where I belong,
Drifting through shadows where nothing feels strong.
Flying into the void, never touching the sky,
Lost in the forest, where silence is the only reply.

I could leave this earth, vanish into the night,
But something holds me, between the dark and the light.
Endless darkness calls, but I wait by the shore,
For your boat that will come, though it feels like no more.

The future a canvas, barren and bare,
All that we cherished, now lost in the air.
Time holds us captive, its grip ever tight,
No escape in sight, only endless night.

In the endless fog, I search for my face,
But I’m lost in the haze, adrift in this place.
Where I am, who I am – it’s slipping away,
Flying into the void, where shadows hold sway.

A shooting star shines, but it never stays long,
The moon whispers sorrow in its ancient song.
Nothing ahead, everything behind –
And I cry, for the pieces I’ll never find.

I don’t know where I am, I don’t know who I am

I fly into the void’s embrace,
A cycle of sorrow, I can’t erase.
A shooting star falls, a celestial tear…

Yet now we can’t stop, we sail with the tide,
Through the vastness of time, with nowhere to hide.
Our lives are a journey without any end,
No chance for return, no point to pretend.

I fly into the void’s embrace,
A cycle of sorrow, I can’t erase.
A shooting star falls, a celestial tear…

I don’t know where I am, I don’t know who I am

A Message to That Girl

A message to that girl
That girl who sat by herself
That girl who doubted herself
That girl who was bullied
She was let down

A message to that girl
That girl who was used
That girl who was manipulated
That girl who was gaslighted
She was left in pieces

A message to that girl:
You’re beautiful
You’e wonderful
Don’t let anyone take that away from you

And I know this world can knock you so far down
Trust me, I do
But it’s all about picking yourself back up
And fighting back
And showing just who you are

Look at you, so strong
You showed everyone who you are
And even in the darkest moments
You pulled through
And you became you

A message to that girl:
You’re beautiful
You’re wonderful
Don’t let anyone take that away from you

So this is a message to that girl
That girl who was knocked down
But she learned to get up
Everything is easier said than done
But I know how it all feels

For this is a message to that girl
And that girl is me

That girl is me

Dedicated to (All the Madmen)

Day after day
They send my friends away
To mansions cold and grey
To the far side of town
Where the mad people stalk the streets
While the sane stay underground

Day after day
They tell me I can go
They tell me I can blow
To the far side of town
Where it’s pointless to be high
‘Cause it’s such a long way down

Day after day
They take some brain away
Then turn my face around
To the far side of town
And tell me that it’s real
Then ask me how I feel

Here I stand
Foot in hand
Talking to my wall
I’m not quite right at all

Don’t set me free
I’m as helpless as can be
My libido’s split on me
Gimme some good old lobotomy

‘Cause I’d rather stay here
With all the mad people
Than perish with the sad kids
Roaming free

And I’d rather play here
With all the mad people
For I’m quite content
They’re all as sane as me

So keep the gates locked, bolt the door,
I want no part of “there” no more.
I’ve found my peace, my kindred souls,
In this asylum’s gentle holds.
Let the sad kids wander, lost and weak,
I’ll stay here where the madmen speak,
A language spoken from the heart,
Where every soul plays its own part.
And if this be insanity,
Then madness is my remedy.
I’ll stay right here, content and free,
Among the mad, just like me.

Zane, Zane, Zane
Ouvre le Chien

I’d rather stay here with all the mad people

Stupid Kids

We are the whispers you don’t hear in the daylight,
Nor see in the shadows that stretch with the night.
But when you remember, we stand just behind,
A presence unspoken, a glance in your mind.

You, the dear children of the Lord, unaware,
Wander His garden, breathing His air.
We finished our lessons, passed through the veil,
Returning to homes where no winds assail.

But soon, after rest, we’ll take on new form,
Inherit a body, reborn in the storm –
Of life, of forgetting, of dreams spun once more,
While the truth of between slips through memory’s door.

We’ll meet again soon, on this side or beyond,
Be patient, beloved, our bond stays strong.
For now, stay cradled in God’s gentle hands,
Unknowing the rules, not counting the grains.

Play on, little ones, in the Lord’s endless game –
Where time is forgotten, and love stays the same

You, children of the Lord, in blissful state,
Unknowing of the truths beyond your ken,
We, scholars done, who’ve passed through fate’s dark gate,
Await the dawn, to back on the earth again.

We’ll meet once more, beyond the veil so thin,
Or here amidst the laughter and the tears,
So, play you on, in innocence and grace,
But we watch and wait, in love’s embrace.

Play on, little ones, in the Lord’s endless game –
Where time is forgotten, and love stays the same