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Thursday, April 25, 2013

Ph.D In Broetry

I’ve reached that age and stage
Where everyone I encounter wants to know
We’re I’ll go
And what I’ll study
I used to say
That I'll be a page
And receive a degree in writing creatively
But life has molded my ambitions like putty
Everything has gone funny
And this might not be Philadelphia but it's always sunny
Because I now want a Ph.D in Broetry
The art of making boys flow to me
By simply stirring up rhymes
Understanding the perfect times
To be authentic and a tease
To bring them to their knees
Roll over and stay
--But Ariel, hey
Boys aren’t dogs
You’re right, they’re actually hogs
Because we’ve established men are pigs a long time ago
But maybe they wouldn't be after my degree
I’d know how to communicate the words of my heart
When to stop and start
Like every conversation was sent through a telegram
And damn
Before my doctorate
I’d need a bachelors in international relations
How lovers from different nations
Sustain their affections through generations
By mixing deliberation and temptation
And maybe I want to be a medical sensation
But I don’t want to go premed in biology or ecology
So I’d get my B.S. in apology
Understand how to proclaim my regret and shame
Restore my name
And the flame of friendship
When what I did wasn’t what I meant
And my tuition would be two cents
Simply to express my distress over a mess of events
But I’d never pay off my debt
Because I’d only ever get a penny for my thoughts
And my college party shots will be
The augmented dots of impressionist paintings
My priority would be joining a sorority
Called Alpha Delta Why
Why do I feel compelled to swell myself with others by my side?
And I’d get a free ride
Inside the trails across my professors hearts
Afterwards I’d earn my bachelors of farts
Because I’d spend too much of myself thrusting darts
At targets that are too sweet
And the only thing the dining hall serves is tarts
I sound contrived and confused
Scattered and sent
Because I don’t know where my aspirations went
I’ve spent so much time staring at the same dream
That I’m not sure if it’s mine any more
When I grasp the knob of this open door
I’ve entered an era of terror
Do I tear her to pieces
Because all I know is how to put my world back together again
I can’t extend myself into the realm of creation
Because I am ordinary
I am ordinary
I am extra ordinary
I am extraordinary
I’d tell the kitchen staff that I was lactose intolerant because I’ve never had dairy
No, that's a typo
I meant a diary
Because I never believed that anyone would glimpse back and admire me
Or that anyone would even hire me
I’ve already had these starving poet business cards made out and all
I’ve chosen a spot for my box by some rock by the mall
And I can’t do anything but stall my own success
Because how do you address
That you possess a destiny you never even thought to pine over
So all I’ve done is whine over
How I can’t pick a fate
And that it’d be great
For me
If I got a Ph.D in Broetry
Because that seems less unknown to me
That my new unreal reality.

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Contact

Ariel is available and interested in anything creative!
For spoken word performances & workshops, web & graphic design, or other writing/film projects please contact via email at arielsob@usc.edu.
New York & Los Angeles work preferred!