Found this old assignment from my History of Creativity course while looking for something else. It supposed to be a sonnet? This is surely a first draft as I almost never had time or will to do a second. Enjoy:
University, such a backward place!
A place where patrons pay dearly to learn,
yet rejoice when excused early or told
not to come at all, or not to read.
And yet 'tis not such a surprise when one
considers the task, sisyphusian,
it is to toil toward graduation
whilst all pow'rs of earth and hell push back.
How oft have I been told that another writ,
thrice signed and copiously copied,
must in some dusty catacomb be laid
ere any writ in return they'll give me.
Not that alone, but adamantian
chains of courses prerequiring me,
lest in less than the prescribed four years
their gordian labyrinth I penetrate.
Oh woe, that cleverness is rewarded
naught (without a fight) for cleverness gives
answers unexpected and none but those
expected are right when four hundred exams
between three TAs must be graded.
What then shall I have when all this flaus is o'er
and I be thoroughly colleged?
Shall I walk? Shall I sit where old men don robes
of a false priesthood, and young men are made
to where mortar-boards to show how flat
their heads have become?
Oh fat camels who spring through needles eyes,
quench these flaming hoops of academia!