The Middle School Examination
The janitor spends most of the time painting the Ionic columns outside.
Actually, the colorful residues from the aerosol cans evinces another side of the colonnade
The heraldic emblem still conveys stories and ideals of a great knowledge and of ancient days.
The canvas tells the story of a beautiful sylph, caressing my soul and easing my pain.
Still, nobody pays attention to it at all. They are all a bunch of gourmands
Indulging in the food and wine that carried the atmosphere of the kennel,
They have no sense of orientation as they wander around blindly through the halls.
They have been disoriented by the emotional drives and the blind judgments that which they clutch upon,
So innocently and so unknowingly.
It may be funny to watch, but when you are pushed down to the floor… you can’t help but cry
However, I laugh at the cloying motto that radiates from the horrid background.
The egregious farrago reads: BEST STUDENTS, BEST TEACHERS, BEST SCHOOL.
Haven’t the administrators forgotten the disruptive nature of children gathering in assembly?
What about the constant interactions between the disciplinarians and the magistrates?
Couldn’t this all be just an irritating nightmare, plaguing the mind?
Still, you have to admit… the horse tranquilizers will fail you.
The children (if you could call them that now) believe still in the doctrine of signatures.
However, the flaw in their credos is that beauty is still in the eye of beholder.
They still smile as the joint dances in the air from stale lips to the resting position.
(As the director of this statement, I still cringe at my own descriptions unfolding before me now)
I still look in the classroom for that beautiful maiden who can declare me hale.
But alas, the horrid portrayal of pubescent Jezebels ravage any optimism left.
I have been deceived into thinking that love was there in this stygian sarcophagus.
It turns out that my own pabulum has been poisoned and spoiled.
I can feel the blood all over me from the beatings inside the interrogation room.
The feedback still penetrates the thick air of the field house, when the colors are afraid to be mixed.
Some gaze in a scornful wonder on why should the universe collapse on them now.
Others wonder whose blood is going to the flood the floor tomorrow at 14:46.
Then, there are those that write all of this down… and pray deeply.
Oh Lord, may Your mercy and love continue to prevail as the fucking buggers eat me alive.
Date of First Draft: 22 June 1999
Information: This is a bitter attack on middle school inspired by the Todd Solondz film Welcome to the Dollhouse and an urge to use better vocabulary.
Annotations: The phrase “doctrine of signatures” refers to an old theory where the appearance of plants can determine its healing properties. The word “hale” is an archaic word meaning free from disease.