The Odes
Ode to the PreCalculus Book
O, PreCalculus book,
You who is so full of knowledge
Equations and graphs
All explained herein.
Countless knowledge absorbed by others
As I lay my head on your smooth cover
And sleep through class.
Ode to Arrea'l
O, happy huggie one,
How you dance around us with grace
When your booty doth shake
Our hearts expand
Stating the obvious
And asking dumb questions
Is what we all look forward to and dread
As we're accosted by your screams
In our third period class
Ode to the Tree
O, one who teaches us stuff
Vocabulary, grammar, and bolbous bouffant
Gavel lost
But block of wood replace
With poofy hair and freaky clothes
You boot us in the head with your fresh teaching
And fashionable clothes
On the board you draw for us
Stick figures representing your cosmic knowledge
Chocolate is good
Ode to S'manpha
O, sign stealing psycho girl
You who make us laugh
A one boobed wonder
With the floppy floppy flop flop
Of a pregnant Puritan
Eager to learn
As you doze on the floor during class
And who reads our lunch with such flourish
Let's all go to the gazebo.
Ode to Tara
O, African American white girl
You who act so blonde
You spin your flag so gracefully
"What is this?"
With your yellow pants
You walk over us towards Hooters
In the hospital with your kidney infection
We miss the whoosh of your "silky" hair
Ringo, the guy from the Beastie Boys
(Gibberish)
Ode to Daniel
O, white Mexican negro Creole man
So quietly you sit
You let us walk over you
Especially Heather
Such an enthusiastic participant
Reading John Grisham through class
And sleeping so peacefully
Ode to Brandi
O, green light personified
How you shine for us
An old woman
With a frisky young attitude
Long blonde hair
Short blonde intelligence
Lizards named Bubba
And eye scratching apes
Macadamia
Ode to Amy
O, non-banal friend
How you hit us in the face
With your wittisism
Our Amus for all times
O, Latin named one
Always prepared to learn
We are all punks
Compared to you
Ode to Arrian
O, midget dancer girl
You short, little angel
Many attributes
Offered by such a small package
Much wisdom
Presented by the tiniest effort
Our teeny weeny friend
We love your itsy bitsy self.
Ode to Shannon
O, one who doesn't do much
You sit unnoticed
Quietly you listen
Most likely plotting
A vengeful death for us all
That's what's going through your head
As you sit quietly
Watching us all.
Ode to Heather
O, simple minded happy girl
You read with such charisma
You may not be able to pronounce it
But we know what you mean
We love the way you cry
(sob, sob)
You step over Daniel
So that we may have beauty
Ode to Brady
O, horny stoner friend
How we love your holey chest
Your dance entertains us
And your shoes trip us
But we know you think about us
(Possibly naked)
And drinking
And weed
Won't you strip for us
Ode to Jaqueline
O, red-headed wonder
Our running joke
Tennis playing
Brady slapping
Your poor red crayon
Lost forever
The actress of the class
As you jump out of the window
Ode to Zack
O, big muscly football player
How the feather boa sets off your eyes
No one expresses themselves quite like you
Mr. Monosyllabic Man
In your comfy legs spread position
You laugh as Brady dances
We admire your shiny shoes
Ode to Courtney
O, tall, skinny, lanky one
With your short short underwear
You helped steal the gavel
Naughty, naughty
But you wore the hat with pride
Dancing and singing
Obsessed with chairs
You won our beauty pagent
OUST!
Ode to Brittney
O, Puritan judge woman
How you love Val Kilmer
We love your quick wit
And nonchalant insults
With loopy ponytail
And glowing earrings
We admire your enthusiasm
When you say
"It was ME!"
Ode to Marlon Brando
O, once hott actor man
You whose words we cannot understand
You ate too much
And got old
O, Godfather Jabba the Hut with saggy cheeks
Where have you gone?
We love you
You are our mob boss
Stella!
Ode to Norman Bates the Head Banging Cow
O, mooing, floppy bean filled Norman
Sitting atop Brandi's head
You look so kewl with your glasses on
You are our baby
And our friend
You head bang into our hearts
And fill our minds with moo
Watching us on the computer
Or in class
We love you Norman
A boy's best friend is his mother
Ode to Jesus
O, glowing ball of stuff
We pray to your autobiography
Your untucked shirt was a fashion statement
That never got you sent to the office
I want to follow in your open-toed sandal footsteps
ANd be delivered to Heaven
On a stick
No one knows if you're black or white
But like Michael Jackson said it doesn't matter
So keep your shirt
And toes a-breathing
As we ask the question
WWJD?
Ode to Sean Connery
O, Scottish sexy man
You who were James Bond
You are 76 and still sexy
Our own Mr. Universe
You play British kings and Spanish warriors from Egypt
With Scottish accents
But we love you anyway
You're old, but you still get it on with young girls
With your sexy voice
We melt in our seats
As you drive away in your biege Volvo
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