A revision of two of my older poems

I've already posted both of these poems on this blog before, but that was when they were still in their draft form and hadn't been refined. I wanted to post the revised versions because I'm really proud of them. I'm going to perform them at my school's upcoming poetry slam and I'm really excited. I think they are much better when they are read aloud rather than on paper... speaking of which, perhaps I should start making video productions of my slam poetry? I mean, I don't have a lot of skills when it comes to video editing, but I have friends who will be willing to help me... or I could pay someone to help me out. I do believe in the importance of paying artists and editors to do stuff. People should always be patrons of the arts and be willing to pay artists very well, after all. Artists are one of the most important members of society. Hey, maybe that can be the beginning of a new poem! Anyway, here are my two pieces. They both have really simple titles as well.

School

I’m in grade twelve and I’ve never felt more withered by routine,

Everyday in the same stifling room I must sit,

Feeling myself wasting away,

Yet knowing the whole course of my life depends on it,

Every classroom feels like a prison,

With the air baneful,

My knowledge of the subject at hand is abysmal,

Yet I am shackled by the expectations of society,

To get up and leave, I could never dare,

You don’t need to skip class if your mind’s never there,

Everything just passes over me,

And in my sleep deprived state,

I make countless mistakes on a test on which my future is staked,

And even when the bell pierces through the hazy numbness of my mind,

I am not free,

For then I must return home and show my parents the number, my score,

Because all I ever will be is a percentage,

Nothing more

And the rest of my existence is a dull fog,

I’ll read deep into the night until the words are seared into my soul and my eyes are bloodshot,

Until the words no longer register in my brain,

I’m in grade twelve and I’ve never felt so withered by routine,

And everyday I’ll wake up and do it all again,

What is it even for?

I’m falling for some elusive goal I can never reach,

I live in the Age of Knowledge, I think

That every spare moment should be filled with extra reading, extra learning  extracurriculars, volunteering, a part time job,

The stress is suffocating and when I can’t get it all done I drown in shame and sorrow,

We were all born curious,

Eager to learn about the world,

Remember when you were that kid in grade three who loved dinosaurs?

Somewhere along the way our natural desire for knowledge that made us human was extinguished,

Now we are all enveloped by the wings of self-hatred every time we check Teach Assist

But maybe there’s still hope,

I don’t know who needs to hear this right now,

Maybe I do,

Maybe we all do,

But you, you’re smart and talented and you’ll get through this,

Look at how far you’ve come already,

You may be going through Hell but you won’t stop in it,

you’re worth more than your productivity

And don’t you forget it

Immigration 

I’ve always felt like an outcast,

I’ve always had to put on a mask in front of those who I love,

I’ve felt like I had to hide my inner demons so that I didn’t scare everyone away,

Putting on a fake smile and saying I’m okay,

As a child of immigrants I’ve had my roots severed

So that I’m neither from here nor from there,

It seems I have no identity,

No history to be proud of,

No three thousand year old continuous culture to die for

Over here, my life is so much better,

As the rest of my people suffer from the remnants of a dark colonial past

I’ve been told I’m easily distracted

My head in the clouds,

It’s because I’ve been thinking about the  people who once were here,

When there were fields of corn all around,

The longhouses stood,

And peace was secured with wampum belts,

You see I’m done with the hypocrisy of the West,

How it likes to pretend it’s more morally enlightened than the rest,

You can still imagine the hellish scene,

The people suffering from a foreign disease,

The babies crying through the night,

Torn away from their parents

Never to hear their mother tongue again,

Getting Christianity’s lies rammed down their throats,

By the most unchristlike Christians

Turn on the news you’ll see nothing’s changed,

Don't let them fool you!

Prime minister after prime minister have all been the same,

The policies about First Nations today are no better,

The government still wants them exterminated,

No one wants to deal with the indigenous problem anymore because it’s such an inconvenience,

The change has to come from the people because it’ll never be from the politicians

So don’t tell me I’m idolizing the past,

I’m not daydreaming idle dreams,

I’m dreaming for those who’ll never dream again,

People say I’m too emotional,

Well it’s true that I cry a bit too easily

that I do not know how to love without giving it my all,

So I’m sorry that I have a heart,

I’m sorry that I’ll never comply or drop bombs from the sky and say I was “just following orders”

Every time I go back to visit my poor developing homeland I see crippled children with bloodshot eyes and I can count their ribs,

I see my people dehumanized because this cruel world filled with evil people has decided that some lives matter more,

That white lives matter more,

So many suffer back at home while I’m here,

I feel like I’m wasting away my freedom,

Taking my blessings for granted,

I hate myself and wonder why I’m not the one starving on the streets when it seems I deserve it more than those who are,

And every night I ask myself

Why does the sun shine on both the just and unjust?

Well fam, I guess that's enough feels for one night. Stay woke!