Young Shakespeare

So I'm digging through old school stuff today to try and find some semblance of a transcript I can copy over to my medical school application. ( Which seems sort of like a double irony, doesn't it? Trying to copy grades? ) So I have my dresser taken apart, which is to say that I have a chair propped up underneath the long flat piece of wood with piles of laundry on it that used to be the back of my desk before I dropped it off the truck, in order to get at the original primary support ( which is my beat up filing drawer, turned on end, held together with duct tape and pictures of beautiful women cut from fashion magazines ). So I'm rummaging through all the classes that I don't remember shit from, and I find a poetry book I wrote in during middle school.

Turns out I was depressed from about birth to 2001.

THE MUTE BROTHER
The sweetness of the cherry tart
grows weary with the spiders art
Begining's finish, and ends the start
the hunters problems are those of smart
The friskiness of the daylight bear
impatient with the midnight hare
grows barren and to not the scare
of the land it seeks with cordial ware.
And yet, if not, the bear should say
"But what of this, the passing day?"
Rabbit's reply to the frank cliche,
"Yes, but friend, I'm on my way."
Hibernation did have its fun
business is not everyone
Still bears and bees seek not the sun
but honey from the hunters gun.
So rabbits kill without remorse
and rivers tend to change their course
when bears talk loud with their voice
of bark and bite and words of choice.
So today, young pupils, what has been learned
Besides the fact of a bare bear burned?
the animals and quite such yearned,
men themselves have death earned.
Hunt not thy friends of forest seat
Spare your brothers fancy treat
Cook the ones without the feet
Drop the gun, and spare the meat.



-Josh, who even at 11 was such a little veggie lefty radical. Or maybe its social commentary about American colonialism. Or its a broken hearted love poem. I can't tell.