Four-Line Poems
when God pencilled in your brows
and smudged shadow upon your radiant face
he was sure to accentuate your ineffably blue eyes
to whom all clich├ęs now humbly bow
it occurred to me yesterday
during yet another torturous Japanese grammar class
that truth is the highest beauty
it's a shame no one can understand it
willingly confining myself
to a dark room with rock n' roll
I cry for an hour before pondering
the sad fact that I'm a living stereotype
I've been searching everywhere for splendour
hunting for inspiration and brilliance
older students stare
as I rummage through the GArt recycling bin