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I wrote this poem in an effort to immortalize the incredible boringness of a US Government teacher I had in high school. We published it in the (lame) school paper to try to get this guy's goat, but then it occured to me that a teacher as boring as him probably doesn't read much poetry, and especially doesn't read student poetry. As the name implies, this is a sestina. I kept on going back and forth between sarcasm and weird images, so the result is kind of strange. This poem was such a major shift from all the other poems I was writing at the time that I found it hard to get away from the other styles and forms. Anyways, without further ado:

Sestina On Government

Mr. McAndrew paces up front in the room
Relative silence, and the great American majority
Another drops a pen and falls asleep.
Sick, sick, sick of changeless walls and windows;
and paper, always paper. I envy the free.
I somehow doubt this is my idea of a good time.

How boring. What else could I do with my time?
It clicks by in our pretentious little room
Pervasive lethargy, and no one is free.
Go talk to the great American majority.
Sunlight falls in through the grimy half-windows
And he's looking this way, so I'd better not fall asleep.

And so what if I am asleep?
There's very little else to do with my (devalued!) time
(Unless of course I wanted to jump out the windows;
at least then I'd be outside of the room).
Sounds like we suffer the lack of a majority
(although they do give us paper for free).

Yes, well, I'm always free.
And after we get back from being asleep,
We'll participate in the infallible majority.
The Boring Guy is running out of time...
I'd rather we all just up and left the room
(and the best way out is definitely through the windows).

It's not really useful staring at the windows
(these days they give us just forty minutes for free)
or looking frantically about this ugly room.
More than half the class is mostly asleep.
No convictions, though (pitiably enough), this time.
And if everyone mumbled at once...I'd call that a majority.

Can't get rid of the walls -- there's no majority.
Although, in all likelihood, we could vote out the windows
(You could smash them all, but I doubt you have time
for glass destruction -- and besides, glass ain't free).
And you -- quit pretending you're asleep.
You're just a victim of this diabolical room.

In this room we're all asleep. In time,
the majority. Without windows, the world is
free. Don't wait, and don't sit still.

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