Women and Art: Poetry
math
math oh, math!
why art thou like death?
your intricate laws and rules
doth maketh my poor brain loose,
whenever mine eyes do see your weird rules,
mine soul doth experience some serious blues.
square roots and cube roots
are to me but plant goods,
methinks Pythagoras
hath killed my hypothalamus,
i know not who is X,
but when i meet him i’ll make sure i’ve got an axe.
TODAY WE’RE DOING GRAPHS, TRIG AND LOGS
(i wouldn’t mind some dreadlocks)
TAKE OUT YOUR CALCULATORS AND PRESS THE A/B KEY
(hmm…i wonder what rhymes with key…)
USE THE K-METHOD,
AND LEAVE YOUR ANSWERS IN SURD FORM
(oh god!)
(i wish i had some chloroform)
thou hast taken all that was left of my wit,
and now i am but a hopeless twit.
i used to know my age off by heart,
but now even my own name is hard.
oh, thou curs`ed junk,
thou maketh me wanna bunk!
© Lerato Malimabe
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