Geography Class

| Posted in , , | Posted on 7:53 PM

Geography class...
What a bitch!
The leaves could be falling
But why do we itch?

Transport, trees, steel and foil
Alluvial, black and laterite soil
It's all too trivial to understand...
And trust me, I've tried hard to like
But never is there an attention hike!
This subject to me, tastes rather bland

Geography class...
What a bitch!
Minerals may be distributed unequally
But why do we itch?

From south to north the wind may flow
But me - well I'd just rather not know 
For not knowing everything just might kill
'Cause winds, they come and winds, they go
Sometimes fast and sometimes slow
And we're living our boring lives, still...
Geography class...
What a bitch!
Jute might be golden fiber
But why do we itch?
 
Industries - they make plastic and steel,
Iron, jute, cotton and wheels
But I'd prefer to blissfully ignore
And while others listen and think and learn,
Work hard and memorize to earn
I'd love to peacefully snore!

Geography class...
What a bitch!
Lignite might be low quality coal
But why do we itch?

Geography class...
What a bitch!
X-x-X
This is what happens when I'm made to attend a geography class. 
This poem showcases my indifference towards the subject. It sucks. Balls. Period.
And. If any humanities students or would-be humanities students were to write something of the sort for Science, it'd be cool. :)

Comments (2)

^ Stop insulting people.
Trust me, I'm aware of how much hay there is in your brain and how much brain.
"Chik" really? I would really like to see, if you have the guts to call me that on my face.
If you wouldn't like me to insult you any further, you're going to shut the trap up, because you and I, both of us know who has more brains.
And trust me, it's not weighed according to science stream.

P.S. I'm going to do the same thing what I did when Vimarsh Chaturvedi called me a loser- I'm going to laugh on your face.

You can't take a joke. I'm sorry I insulted you.
Anyway, I'm not calling blondes dumb from now on. Thanks to you.
So, uh...
"Trust me, I'm aware of how much hay there is in your brain and how much brain."
It's all hay, chick. All hay.