Strength of Ages

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WobblyVern
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Fri Dec 03, 2010 4:52 pm

Huddled, wretched, he queued for lunch, gazing at his scruffy pumps
ignored the shoves, ignored the screeches
ignored the jibes and the kicks and the thumps

He pretended not to notice Tomkins spitting on his back
or the sweaty, acned teenage girl who encouraged the attack

He trudged his way around the school in stony, dogged silence
resolutely on his own, resigned to all the violence

At desk he slumped, head in hands - as the teacher reeled off dates
closed his eyes - a brief respite, before new-found dictates

Darkness seeped around the boy, a deep and heavy dose
soon he drifted, soft and light as Morpheus drew him close

A voice – first distant, soon came bolder
“Listen friend!” and tapped his shoulder

It’s eyes were his, but not it’s frame – it towered like an oak
and speaking without moving lips, the ghost in earnest spoke

“Strange, I know – but don’t take fright, I come to only few
grab my arm, and don’t look back – I’ll show you what to do.”

The boy obeyed - within a wink, was washed up on a beach
beside him lay a small glass bottle just within his reach

‘Strength of Ages’ read the brown mottled label
‘drink it all if you are willing and able’

He emptied it down, as it coursed through his veins
and collapsed in the sand in convulsions and pains

Cold and shaking, sleep left its grip - and upright he awoke
the teacher seemed to sneer at him, and class alike provoke

Silence followed after time, as giggles petered out
And teacher stood with folded arms expectant of a rout

Giving back his own wry smile, the boy surveyed the room
The sneering faces puzzled now, his voice began to boom

Scraping chair and desk alike,
he drew himself to fullest height
“And what would be your problem then?”
he queried, as he threw a pen

The teacher clutched his eye and screamed
as jelly and blood from his socket streamed

The class, in panic – rushed for door
but bodies flew and limbs were tore

walking calmly down the hall,
he smashed sir’s head against the wall

Pupils scattered and screams went up,
Headmaster burst forth in the wake
Cane in hand, he bellowed out
“Who dares disturb my luncheon break!”

The boy released his hands from neck of the sweaty, acned girl
and withdrew the ruler from Tomkins rear with a flourished, little twirl.

“It was ME sir – I must not lie, so sorry for the trouble
now I’m going to bury your school under twenty feet of rubble”

Screams ensued, as walls creaked madly, before a thunderous rush
a pile of rubble was all that remained, dead buried in the crush

The papers told of grieving parents - a gas leak, in their pages
but none would ever know true cause

The treacherous Strength of Ages
ray miller
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Fri Dec 03, 2010 8:11 pm

There's some abrupt changes in rhythm which might deter some from continuing to the end, and it is rather long. You do best with this rhythm:

He pretended not to notice Tomkins spitting on his back
or the sweaty, acned teenage girl who encouraged the attack

The punctuation is a bit erratic and, what's worst, nobody comes out of this very well! There's no real hero, just blind destruction.
I'm out of faith and in my cups
I contemplate such bitter stuff.
Meesha
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Fri Dec 03, 2010 10:32 pm

Ray makes some fine points... especially about the punctuation which is well below par. But then the final outcome(s) is/are well shared between the participants because the title does state 'Strength of Ages'.
Do you really need some of those modifiers... like teenagers are well known to be ravished by acne.

An interesting perspective. Almost Alice in Wonderland meets Columbine... seems to be the norm nowadays. Alcohol (spirits) eh?

M
Nash

Sun Dec 05, 2010 7:01 pm

Hello Wobbly,

I was expecting to go into 'Timothy Winters' terrain with this one, bit of an unexpected sideswipe half way through. I think that with a piece like this the rythm really needs to be consistent throughout, as Ray pointed out, it does tend to chop and change a bit.
wildmountainthyme
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Sun Dec 05, 2010 8:28 pm

i'd give this a gold star vern. when i was at school i was the teachers pet, she kept me in a cage at the back of the class, thanks to aristotle 384-322 b.c for that gag.
i liked the way it built up to it's happy ending, who hasn't wanted to plunge a pen into a teachers eye? a teacher's only someone who talks in someone elses sleep anyway. steven wright 1984.
nice one vern, pure class.
dan
Lovely
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Sun Dec 12, 2010 12:31 am

V2: Your there. I thought it was me but now I know my soul a bit better.

I look onward to you.


Thanks.
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