How I Learned the Metric System

Only the darkest of midnights satisfies these urges.
I deftly brave the pits of concrete boiler rooms in you.
A mess of the best dressed jest at my expense.
Darkness, dreary and depressing, deftly dictating delirious lesson plans.
If I imbibe that I'll get a slap on the hands.
Mission failed, and now my soul is wheezing.
Your face is pale and hands are pleading;
'won't someone stop it?'
Please, comfort me with your anecdotes.
Your endless tales of endless nights and zero morning.
Your timeless discourse on zealous mimes, spontaneous plane tickets, draft Guinness in Edinburgh and Jerry Garcia beards.
My guitar strings need a-tunin'.
My money brings me more happiness than you could ever know.
So stop listening to what he said was good,
and listen to your own voice of reason.
Listen to the thousand screaming angelic voices in your head, because nothing could be more right.
Soak in the effusive happiness of your warmness on the soul, and then fill out your comment card.
Because nothing is as it seems, until you try it.
Listen to it.
That sneaking doubt in the back of your head,
Jiminy Cricket come back from the dead.
Your chakra might be swimming with boots of lead,
but that can always be changed.
Listen to the knife pressed hard on your throat;
just don't really think that it's really there.
Because a knife is a knife is a knife is a knife,
unless it's not really there.
Last edited by metalfan#3 at Apr 29, 2011,
I like the poem! I just had to post that on impulse! haha
you have an excellent choice of words though, excellent job