Bunking Morales

Oh, grouch, pout, grumble! Oh, fumble, pout, and crouch!

A pen without a cap, some air for a pouch

A burden of books, and a coat of dust for the worn out letters,

Now some info to fill up him -the frequent forgetter!

 What would the laws of the Earth teach him?

Would those carbons ever clear his whim?

The bones of bio would not remain unshattered,

As long as his brain cells lingered and lay scattered .

 The grasps of Math, Social, Language had feasted on that numb,

relishing his taste, and looking at the left our crumb.

Hurt by mocks, fed up and teary,

He devised a plan to murder that misery.

A window tiptoed for the escapade, 

A pack of lies to hide up the play he played,

And out he went, into the world of liberty 

Never to be seen again the storehouse of memory artillery!