*author's note: i wrote this poem when i was 11 and it is the first real poem i ever wrote. it holds a loving place in my heart so please treat it with care.

SNEETCHES IN SPACE

now the star-bellied sneetches could breathe on mars

but the plain-bellied sneetches could not upon thars.



the plain-bellies had to pull around tanks

which greatly affected their social ranks,

for they needed the tanks to breathe air

but they were quite heavy, and needed great care.



the star-bellies thought that they were so great

and every night they would shout as they ate,

“ha ha, you silly old oxygen breathers,

we get real food, while you’re astronaut paste eaters!”



and the plain-bellies were quite tired of this,

and they didn’t think that the star-bellies would miss

if they got up and left the planet of mars

the planet where they could not breathe upon thars.



and so they left. they left in a hurry,

not thinking that the star-bellies would worry.



but the star-bellied sneetches, they worried a lot.

they liked the plain-bellies, though they said they did not.



the star-bellies searched and the star-bellies found

that the plain-belly sneetches had fled to the ground

that was far off in space and not upon mars

on a new planet where they could breathe upon thars.



and so the star-bellies traveled to earth,

thinking that the plain-bellies had gone there in mirth.



and the plain-bellies were there, to that we give thanks.

but now it’s the star-bellies who need the breathing tanks!



- 2012

*author's note: idk man. just get sillay with it

ALGEBRA IS HARD, YOU GUYS

Some find it quite simple to understand,

Some lost in the sea of numbers and

Numerals, the grand wasteland

Of bland quicksand

Desperately watching the hour hand.

I, on the other hand



Would be a member of the former

If not for my formidable foe:

Parenthesis.

Their necessary presence

Putting my patience to the

Test with every layer of curved

Containment

Organized at the origin of the order

Of operations, the principle PEMDAS

That pronounces a separated

Calculated safehouse, the sinuous

Symbol that sorrows my days.

The pain of the constant curving

Of my pen on the paper, never

Symmetrical or acceptable, an

Unethical unidentical assemble

Unfortunately parenthetical

Not to mention the brackets, the

Bane of my mathematical existence,

Parenthesis for parenthesis, uselessly

Cornered, countering the conventionality

An equation should bring.



In summary: fuck you, parenthesis.



- Oct. 23, 2017

the original piece of paper i wrote sneetches on back in 2012. i still have it all these years later