Jorgenson's Prison Chamber

Poetry I began writing during Algebra class this semester and finally finished today. Math. Yuck.

His hands are hooks

Try to probe my brain

I hate these books

Reaching the insane

I’m getting looks

Because I’m desperate

His hands are hooks

This entire place is a grave

Only an hour to be saved

Calling out my name

Thrown into your game

My knowledge is nil

The pieces don’t fit

I’m desperate still

Crumbling bit by bit

Chained here until

The board’s wiped clean

My knowledge is nil

A hole made of bricks

The mustiness makes me sick

Sophisticated green stone

Rattles my creative bones

You understand your methods

Now understand my madness

Calculations

Measurements

Precise products

Gut me with a ruler

Justify your methods

I’ll justify my madness

His hands are hooks

An Artist's Prayer

This is a compilation of many thoughts I had running through my mind today thinking about the Algebra final I had to take. The ideas and words were foggy within my head all day. But when they're finally put on paper, everything makes sense. Alas, math still does not.

Dear God,

I know what You’ve made me

I’ve discovered who I am

I don’t do well with measurements

The black and white I know

Consists of 88 keys

Things of science and numbers belong to You

You’ve grown me to deal with the heart

To make sense of issues

Deeper than the explainable

Now I am forced to reason

And delve into things I don’t comprehend

Lord, numbers and meticulous organization

Send me into darkness

I only want to live in the light

And thrive amidst my expertise

Remove this ruler and calculator

Put a pen in my hand

Plant inspiration in my heart

I ask only for clarity of thought

And grace to pass the tests required

Take it all away from me

Let me do what I love

Maybe one day in a New World

I can be a mathematician

Or a scientist for You

I, the humble student

You, the Eternal Teacher

Until that day

Prepare my heart

Inspire my mind

And bless my best efforts

Amen