Vera Sidhwa

United States: Seventy-Two - Poem by Vera Sidhwa

Yeah, we took pot then,
And got clubbed by the police.
You know what we called them?
Fascist, racist pigs.

Bob Dylan and Woodstock,
That was our first nation,
Everyone cared for everyone
And we held sessions.

Don't yell, Go to hell, I don't like that word.
Sit in an ink well and look absurd.
Got no pretty face, we talk about the black race.
Compensations and explanations,
We blew our creeping Ivy-educations.
we took coke and flew high,
We stuck needles and couldn't see the sky.

Hi, fly me, I'm Mary Jane,
And Mary, your grass is fiving me a pain.
Shout down the dean,
ANd they'll all turn green.
The Nineteen-seventy two and one,
That's when we burned colleges for fun.
It was horrible,
We were crazy, schitzy people.

To a smoker it's a Kent,
At that college fell the tent.
She kneeled and creamed in fright,
For the student's body was cold and white.
Yeah, National Guard.
And your heads full of lard.

Don't yell.
Go ring the school bell.

Remember S-D-S
It stood for students against a damaged society; yes.
And society's long-haired Jesus,
All over campuses, got past and got through,
Others with bullets to heaven flew.

Fly high,
In your privately owned sky,
Go ring the college bell,
Sit in an ink well.

Ink is usually blue,
That's how we usually felt too.
You freak, what did you do to her,
Did you--her?

Go ring the college bell,
Go sit in an ink well.

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Poem Submitted: Thursday, December 22, 2011

Poem Edited: Thursday, December 22, 2011

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