A poem about maturity by Me

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The town of Seneca, without manners or couth,
it is the setting of most of my youth.
I am 13 years old and mature for my age,
but everyone else is at a different stage.
Everyone here seems to want to play sport,
they're dying to live on a basketball court.
Me, I'm not interested in such a thing,
I would much prefer to act and to sing.
In calling people gay I do not take glee,
using proper grammar is sacred to me.
I have the maturity of college professors,
but all my peers, they seem like oppressors.
At school, they torment me, day after day,
The high school diploma's the reason I stay.
They don't want to learn, those miserable scum,
If you ask me, I think they're dumb.
They ridicule anything out of the norm,
they treat me as if I am badly deformed.
When I use big words, they think I'm speaking Dutch.
I try not to retaliate, but it's just too much.
I do have a friend there named Courtney Scott,
but now our friendship seems for naught.
She is NT, but that doesn't matter,
without her friendship, I'd be 12 times sadder.
I'm in grade 7, but she's in grade 6,
Most people say that is not a good mix.
Between those of grade differentiation
My school does not allow conversation.
She uses proper grammar and is mature for her age,
but we need more time to fill the relationship gauge.
Despite my successes in school, life's a nightmare.
My peers are so immature, it's not fair.
I know they're below me, but they don't know it.
They're insecure, but why don't they show it?
Within reason, I always say what's in my head,
but they do not, they hide it instead.
Neurotypical teenagers are very mean creatures,
like a DVD, without special features.
I don't see why they are so alienating,
The feeling I feel in my heart for them is hating.
Does anyone know if there is a solution,
to this horrible feeling of heart pollution?
I want to be able to live a happy life,
but how do you get rid of this horrible strife?
After high school, will life be less tough?
And now I close, having said enough.


Chris

This is so good. Well done. It says quite a bit how I felt at your age.

Wow Crhis! That is excellent!

ElfMan

Get that published!

WOW! Chris you are very talented!! I'm with Archmage, you should be published or at the least, patent your poems.

Thank you. I came up with that off the top of my head. I have an intricate brain: all my memories and visions are in video clips. When I have a thought, it comes out as a poem or descriptive novel. I have written many poems and several chapter books/novels, none of which I have had published yet, however. My friend Matthew (who has AS and lives in Toronto) is writing a series of books and is very creative.

Bravo! Bravo! That's some serious talent right there. You're only 13, so you'll still be improving on your talent too. Keep at it!

Chris if what you wrote came off the top of your head, then you are extrmely talented.

What kind of books do you write? Also is your friend published? What kinds of books does he write?

Could you give us a sample of one of your chapter books?

Good stuff!! Keep writing!

Here's my take on maturity, written when I was forty three...

Maturity

So I won't live forever
After all.




s**t.



Jerry Newport

Okay. Here's a bit of a story I started this morning. It's a sequel to one I wrote a long while ago. It's about a Aspie girl named Esther (until I find a better name than that) who is tricked into abandoning a true friend in exchange for a friendship with a disgusting rich Neurotypical girl named Sydné Xayidé Emeticé (derived from "emetic", which is something that makes you vomit). Here's some, but we don't learn much about Esther in the first chapter: (If you want to read more, look in my blog. I will be writing more of the story in there when I get the chance.)

Chapter 1

Zelda

As I stepped off the school bus, rubbing my ears with a camoflauged scarf, I thought with negative anticipation of how this would be yet another noisy day, particularly with the Pep Rally, which I have no idea why it is called that, and the usual bothersome roar of students, who didn't care in the least about learning, and the cacophonous thunderstorm which made my ears hurt.

And I was right. It was noisy. I stepped into the school commons' area and took my seat on one of the benches. Pomegranates, it was even louder in here than outside. But all the noise was forgotten as my friend Zelda walked inside the building and sat down next to me.
"How's it goin', Esther?" he said.
"How's what going?" I asked.
"Oh. I'm sorry. I meant Hello."
"Hello!" I said. We scooted up together and embraced eachother.We didn't mind that we were soaking wet. Zelda was the only person outside of my kin whom I allowed to hug me.
Zelda was my best friend who, despite his appearance, was very intelligent and took Gifted class with me. We had only known each other for three weeks. Zelda was an orphan who was in foster care and awaiting adoption. He was 11 years old and seemed to be about 165 cm tall. His story was very moving and I, being an extremely emotional person, disliked thinking about how much pain he had went through as a young child.
Zelda was wearing his usual style: black clothing. He had on black pants that were stained with a mysterious tint of red, and he was wearing a sleeveless black shirt that in being several sizes too small, had ripped in half and exposed his midriff and his chest. Zelda was wearing tiny shoes that looked about 5 sizes too small for him. His hair was a natural fiery red and was so long that it went down past his shoulders. His appearance made him look intimidating; many people avoided him out of fear.
But his appearance didn't match his personality. He was often depressed and had a bitter stare, but he was very gentle and had never done anything wrong on purpose. Plus, he gave the best hugs in the world! The tight embrace was always accompanied by a strange feeling of warmth, and that was what I was experiencing as he hugged me that morning.
However, this experience could not last forever, and soon we stopped hugging.
"So, are you feeling okay today, Zelda?" I asked.
"Sort of. My..."
Just then, the annoying bell rang and we were completely lost in a crowd of students. We went to our first class, which was Music. We were not aware of the disastrous event that would jeopardize our friendship. It all started with a stupid little girl and a ruby necklace....

WOW! This is really good writing! I will definitely visit your blog! I want to know about the girl with the ruby necklace!

Chris keep writing. You are a rare talent!

Chris I can't find your Blog site!

Wow!

That definitely fits my writing style, and shows that I am capable of writing poems like that. As for you, you could probably write poems as a hobby.

The blog is here at WP, but I haven't written much there. I plan to soon though.

I was searching for threads on music and I came upon this one...I don't know if Chris is still active here, but I just wanted to say that this is a great poem that you wrote!!