LAST ONE I PROMISE
He didn't preach hate
But he was low on fate
Cause someone was out to get him
Who knew who?
But it certainly wasn't Boo!
Maybe a kangaroo?
By Arezoo. August 7th 2:55pm. Biology exam.
*YAWN*
Jem never lied
He never even spied
He was so good
Always thinking of food
That's his only weakness
Food
He dreams of it
And although he was rather fit
Who could blame him- the poor git
Chocolate cake he likes
And he always bikes
To make sure his food is not spiked
But one day he forgot
And food poisoning he got
Everyone thought it was the raw chicken
But he knew
It was Bret's finger lickin'
Recipe for homicide
Ah, sorry Bret :) By Arezoo. August 7th 2:51pm. Biology exam.
INSOMNIA
He often left the light on
Nobody knew why
After he brushed his teeth
He'll tiptoe out
The light-quite bright
Then he'll kiss his guitar
Three times
Always three times
He'll take off his sunglasses
And slip under the sheets
But that night
He couldn't sleep
So he counted sheep
That didn't last long
So he counted Figwits
One Figwit jumping over the council
Two Figwits jumping over the council
That didn't work either
So he did what always worked
Chemical combustions
And sure enough
There he was, fast asleep
Over the lit bunsen burner
By Arezoo. August 7th 2:45pm. Biology exam.
YOU MUST HAVE LOTS OF SPARE TIME
Too many times I have watched
He would play it like he owned it
And we sat, on the mat
Gleaming
Happy he wasn't a rat
But then he would turn into one
And we'll scream
A bottle of ajax was the cream
In killing that rat
Then on the mat
We realised we killed Jem-oh crap!
By Arezoo. August 7th 11:40am. French exam (hey, I had 45mins of nothing to do!!)
ARE YOU STILL READING?
"Could you sign this, Jemaine?"
A little girl asked
Brushing away her mane
"Sure." He said, and took a pen
A bic pen it was
Maybe Bic Runga?
Who knows?
But, if Bic married Sean Penne
She'll be Bic Penne
Jemaine thought this all
As he wrote down about his fall
Last week, down the cliff
The circumstances were dodgy
They all said Bret did it
With a long stick
But he knew
It was all just Bic
By Arezoo. August 7th 11:32am. French exam.
YOUR NAME
Jemaine
Who gave you that name
I know more than one person
Who would take that name
For them(selves)
Jess wants to name her child that
Aren't you happy?
Why don't you go where a hat?
A synonym with your name
Is fame
Remember that
Where's that hat?
Ok, Jess didn't actually say that, she just said she likes the name. By Arezoo. August 7th 11:28am French exam.
CRUEL JEM
A wise girl told me of a dream
She said in it
Jem screamed
He hated us
I dismissed it
He can't hate us!
Us! The fans!
But if so
Why did he skip the capital
Oh cruel Jem
Why do you vex us?
All these poems were written before the note about coming to Wellington in Sept/Oct, so excuse the angstyness.By Arezoo. August 7th 11:25am. French exam.
SOUNDS
The guitar sings
His fingers drum it
Slowly
Tap tap tap
A tear rolls down his face
Yet he does not cry
An unknown walks into the room
He looks up
But no, it is not him
Tap tap tap
The wall clock ticks
And he yells, he screams
He covers his ears
Tap TAP TAP
It won't go away
TAP TAP TAP
He slams his guitar
Whacks it against the wall
TAP TAP TA-
Silence
He smiles
The clock ticks
Tick tick tick
One of the first poems that doesn't rhyme! By Arezoo. August 7th 11:22am. French exam.
BEEN FINED?
Last night I cried
I said, Oh Jem, please take the bribe!
Come to Wellington
And play for us
There's no need for a fuss
Bret- you come too
He really does complement you
Play all your songs
From 'Albi' to 'The bus drivers song'
We will be happy
We won't cry and be sappy
So come, don't be dumb.
Dumb as in can't talk/can't hear, not stupid.And title refers to a poster on the wall in front of me. By Arezoo. August 7th 11:15am. French exam (Le grand poulet!!)
THE JERN (JEM+FERN)
To whom it may concern
Yesterday I saw a fern
A Jemaine image I confirmed
Was on this wholly fern
I picked it carefully
And took it home
There, with it, I roamed
Then I placed it on the bench
Where I keep all my memorabilia of Jem
And I said, "Ahh Jem, there you stay."
And then I walked away.
By Arezoo. August 4th 10:40am. Chemistry exam.
You'd give me Geraniums
I should have known if you gave me flowers
You�d give me Geraniums
Their hot pink petals singed the tips of my toes
As they fell out from my sooty hands
And landed like gentle summer rain in a heap by my sock
Even if I had begged you to sing in Wellington
You would have put the geraniums between us on stage
Even the corrosive acidic petals with a pH of 2
Wouldn�t have burnt my heart like you
A tribute to the poem in our English mock exam, by Jem's Jess
Pixels, the knowledge of
I look and I see
The man with an em of J does
By ssejs'mej
Reflexive
I see myself
By ssejs'mej
Jem
By anonymous
Aaaah jemaine
By anonymous
*muselmane=franglais version of muslim(don't ask)
jem you are gay,
By anonymousa.k.a. Jem's Jess
Cat called Jem
I used to know a cat called Jem
By Arezoo 11.3.03
To be a hobo
He sat there all day
By Arezoo 11.3.03 * We assume this means Bret Mckenzie, although the sanity of the writer can also be questioned.
Jem
The way his hair swayed in the autumn breeze
By Arezoo 11.3.03
I see his face
Am I happy with glee?
I don�t know
Its mixed
The pixels are fixed
To a ratio
What do I know?
He sees
His face
But does he worry?
I won�t know
Pixels and photos talk not
A reflection?
Of what, not pot, yacht?
You see yourself
He sees himself?
And laughs?
Or cries?
With what?
Anger, fear, emotions
Raw, rip through
Tear at the screen
The screen tears at itself
rhymes with hem
he's not called em
he's my jem
sweet like cr�me
aah jem...
you're not a muselmane*
please don't complain
i like you all the same
my love will never wane
i'm not insane
i don't even own a cane
so don't complain
don't be my bane
please jemaine
there's no other possible way,
but a gay appearance to me you convey,
don't worry i won't say,
that you're gay,
otherwise you'll make me pay,
that would not be yay!
eat hay! eat hay!
One day, he turned into a hen.
"Oi, Jem," I said, "I bet you can't turn human!"
So he proved me wrong and left me fumin'
Because he had turned into a man,
A man who would sit all day on the can,
playing his guitar,
Dreaming that one day he will become a star.
We here at Saint Clement's would like to remind everyone that Jem already IS a star, and we didn't write this poem
Chewing his bit of hay
He was talented, oh yes he was
Playing his guitar with his friend Bret McKos'*
They were in a band
And, on a bit of land
They would play songs about Frodo
Always bidding their time waiting to become hobos.
The way he pushed his glasses up the crook of his nose
The way his fingers worked the guitar strings
The way his voice echoed in the distant night
The way his smile lit up the twilight
Only one could be like him
Only one can be him
Only one will know him
Only one will love him.