LOL

One nodding,
on one desk lolling.
One          plus          one
                         is 2.
The voice tells them to --
Rub out the chocolate
curses, with salt
on their thumbs,
from their temples.
Granite feet, weighty
and dripping white
on their foreheads;
a temple built over
the temple ground.
Sacred secretions.
   What
happened?
A nod means yes.
   Up, down;
a nod means
       Yes.
But is it not strong to refuse?
To be with them when
they blot out   blue

tears

in the paper
of consciousness.
I refused the lol
-lipop
for a day of classes.

We Be Catching Giants

We pull and gasp, in short, an introduction

to sing the fray our tender ropes will burn.

Descendants ought to put their hands to function,

but never they the splitting end discern.

We shout of those we capture; lay at rest

when yet we still have not ourselves found peace.

In searching out the wave, we miss the crest,

And sit and stretch while eating false release.

Of power drunk’dness, say our foes, we are,

but blurry vision keeps our ears yet deaf.

The fires burn their truths, and seeing stars,

there’s nothing bright as black in charcoal left.

                Our reins are taut on broadly shouldered giants.

                The final pulls will be our dark’ning lights.

This is just a first draft of a sonnet for creative writing two. I won't tell you what I meant by it, because I will not always be present for my readers! But, yes. I think I will like this class.