Posts tagged ‘Academia’

December 17, 2015

the facts of life

the only real
facts of life
are there
are no
facts of life,
we simply
guess
with problematic
language
which best
route–or priori,
applies to us
at any
given time.
how we
imagine it all
turns
out has nothing
to do with
the outcome
or the
described “facts
of life.”

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October 15, 2015

American Psycho II

Oh, the broken media.
Oh, the bad prose.
Oh, a shit grade.
Oh, it goes.

September 24, 2015

On campus in a basement…

Sitting in a basement classroom—
the best a big ten university could offer,
listening to words of power,
details revealed. This conversation happened
a day or so before, made new now by
a faux Foucault. Then someone subjectively said,
“… It was merely objective to be like this…”
And I still don’t enjoy groups of people
or the idea that we are all learning
in relation to the concept of doubling.
The thought is not the same. This lack
of accountability comes cleverly masked.
Noticing errors on the Powerpoint slides,
a man outside in gray moving a door,
and this farce called academia expressed.
Some pretend to be actual Philosophers,
I think I’ll pretend to be Jesus: I forgive them.

June 18, 2015

If Adjectives were People

If adjectives were people
would we misuse them so freely?
Would we tarnish or compromise
their meaning, because we feel it so fit?

A day seldom goes by without hearing “amazing”
or “awesome” or some other elaborate word
that no one truly understands,
because we want to sound smart,
because impressive is good.

I imagine a day when adjectives are personified, incarnate,
they will come back irate,
pissed off at us for our word choices,
and they will take what is theirs.

Without pause or hesitation
they will call us all illiterates and fools,
imbeciles and morons,
they will promptly walk away,
with all ways to accurately describe.

We will then think on how we had it so well,
with no way to say exactly what we have to tell…

And then, inevitably, someone will say, “incredible”.

April 28, 2015

I’ll BRB

Gone for a minute, a bit, on a class break, on a handshake, on a piss, on a Twitter update, on to Tuesday Business, outside visit.

A human being, being human, attempting to relate, walk on worn shoes down an empty hallway.

To go back to learn, to go back to concentrate, to go back to think: It’s just a building with windows, it’s just eyeholes in a face, it’s just a storied history told, it’ just absolutely fate.

Today we sit in green chairs, contemplate, and wait, for a paper, for a page, to get paid, and out of debt before we find a soiled grave.

Yeap.

April 12, 2015

Experience the Movement: during AWP 2015

In a tight vanilla pale room
with a tangerine sunset view,
where high association
shared big words
and accomplishments tacitly,
wink to a nod,
rubbing elbows,
touching pinked-white hands—shaking,
close, related, akin,
with more than five dollar’s worth of language present, presented,
of which few perhaps did understand,
it didn’t matter though,
behind modern dark faux wooden frames, Lennon round,
piercing eyes darted—knowing names, big thanks,
as bodies in ironed button up shirts,
suit jackets dusted,
leather shoes shined,
and neutral colored slacks creased,
hair done stiff, fine—slicked back shine,
reading aloud
lines and verses and words;
poems unfamiliar,
as those within oohed and aahed,
at each vocal cord’s articulation,
as attendees and audience members
smiled, drank, laughed, explained, translated, and clapped.
A brave man said with confidence to the glaring crowd: this was the movement,
we were it.
I guess maybe I couldn’t relate;
I felt more like a dried stalk of corn in a Midwestern summertime field,
some monocultures are unescapable.

March 13, 2015

Prelude to Spring Break 2015

As early March had come in biting and the best were kept inside,
a span of two weeks had passed slowly and sleep had become elusive.

Professors watched second hands tick and gave out faux tests;
these symbolic life quizzes—it’s who makes it who matters.

Desks became confines as concentration went out open windows,
to welcome hands of mild weathered-breeze and new-season sun.

People—tired students, red-eyed lecturers, they didn’t exist;
regular situations became stimuli for a stagnant comatose: why?

No answers formed, except that three days later a person could be a week away,
anywhere—abroad, nothing to do, only to read titles and books which please.

Yet we all sat watching that clock, it moved slower despite us;
now, it would have to stay indoors and assess classrooms of empty chairs.

Scholars and administration would hopefully be in Spring air, taking it in,
with a cold beer in hand and tender sunrays on their back;

minds would exist as empty—blank slates, to pen a tale—an experience,
with no thoughts of what was left sitting behind, with not a hint of rigor.

December 4, 2014

Finals in a Boat

Thick are these academic papers;
We cling to as long proved assets.
Fingers flip thru dull page after page,
Proving proclaimed righteous passage.

Moving red eyes scan this distant mote,
To grasp sought after effective note.
Hoping, praying, and prying we go,
Aspire this traveled boat always floats.

Thru vast opaque waters of fluid mind,
Much is the lacking of present time.
Having been assailed, to keep us entwined,
Confined we fret, towing endless line.

To calmer seas onward we press,
Trying challenges bested, nobly met.
To succeed; to degrees; to just pay rent-
Precious hours of our lives lost or lent.

To dock that long off nigh forgotten vessel,
To pin to chest the highest rank of glint medal.

***
See what I’ve caught? It’s called a label.

September 4, 2013

College Girls/Nikki Fine Lookalike

Nikki Fine Lookalike/College Girls

By Terry Scott Niebeling

 

 

Possibilities without conclusions within reason, always.

 

Next to me in next to nothing, “Sorry about my mispronunciation, I am used to speaking French.”  Redhead from Ohio, Oh, Hi, oh…

Um…  Guten Tag!

 

Look, take account, not to stare.

All there, and something is missing.

Too early, am I dreaming?  Focus on the material, not what’s under it.

 

What kind of Yoga pants and mid-drift are in store for tomorrow?

 

I saw them skipping through the hallways as if no one was watching, their audience had no vacancy. 

No time for sauntering or talking. 

Walking past with an agenda, I was as the light beam that held me as people walked through it.

 

And they tell you to pay attention, as if you are obese at an all you can eat buffet.

Never today, I am spoken for in many ways.

 

Who did you want her to be, or how?

Was it true to your eyes?

Did your thoughts somehow allow?

 

One could take in tiny blond hairs just at the apex of her legs; thighs at rest, some under thread, some exposed to be what seemed like overhead-this vantage, a view from a seat, of her skirt.

 

Everyone in the class was too poetic; our professor was looking for something more literal.

 

(I thought, don’t take this argument to the streets.  I know a million people who are POETS, WRITERS, and AUTHORS.  THEY HAVE PUBLISHED BOOKS, you know?  They’ll tell you out loud to your face at introduction even before their passionate hand clasps yours for an initial handshake.

Trust me.  Go to any party in Uptown, Downtown, NE, fuck it, anywhere in Minneapolis, as proof.  You will see.)

 

Feet held below stubbled knees, in slip-ons sans socks, where thoughts get long, hard, and lost.

 

Bejeweled with bright rings and things-affixed shiny rocks, on silver-metal bands, held tight to each little finger, on her delicate little hands.  To her mouth, to the air, to her desk, they lingered, and then back again.

 

Is she Nikki Fine?  I don’t know.

That’s fine.

My mind playing tricks again, sitting in class.

I don’t mind.

 

We were talking Shakespeare as the time passed, Sonnet 18.

 

 

July 25, 2013

Academia (College Transfer Student)

Academia,

By Terry Scott Niebeling

 

Academia,

Thoughts in a whirlwind-stir,

Before we open a single book, to a single page,

We think of the transfer of a single synapse about to occur in our brains.

 

We think of the working world, taking a second look, at a certain class.

Conjured up ideas of being trapped; you need to work-you belong there, that’s the only path.

Close the Book.

 

Deep thoughts,

How we succeed and how we fail.

Entertaining the need to exist, taking on adventure, and aspiring to prevail.

 

Lecture, process, write, dream,

We focus on what we can change,

While we sit factoring in a grading curve, trials that will be unveiled, and a main scheme.

 

Pay attention to the details; knowledge is bursting at the seams.