Homework For The Gang

The dog the cat the mouse the rat the curse
The line of poetry can't get much worse
There aren't supposed to be rhymes in blank verse
It pisses off the teacher. Hellllllooooooo, nurse!

Back before you pitied me (poor boy,
His mom and girlfriend dead) you whined in class:
"Dear Trina was so good. Be more like her."
But I don't want to fornicate with all
The men in school, not least your husband. So
Sad I can't act like Dear Trina right.

I read this novel last weekend. It's called
The Cryptonomicon. There's Perl in it --
It's programs in a book! Like software mixed
With lit. So cool. My mother saw me read
And laughed because the book's so huge. She said,
"Now there's my little genius. Come and eat,
You'll strain your eyes. When supper's over, we
can play a game. You read so much, you brain!"
She thinks my affectation's odd. I'm the
Mackenzie Freak.
                         ...I love my mom, I do.

This homework blows. You think it's poetry
that helps us non-09er punks to find
our inner beauty, leave the projects, turn
from life of crime to life of mind? No more
at-risk? Well, let me tell you, bitch. John Donne
ain't putting food in Grandma's fridge.
Will Shakespeare doesn't keep my boys in line.
And Neptune doesn't like a wetback just
because he's quoting Idylls of the King.
You think I'm turning this assignment in?

Fat chance.