HACker Prose

[Mathew Ward]

Still I Rise

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my HACkerness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got Fresh Oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.

 

[Lone Ranger]

I am a little puzzled.  Did you mean to title this thread HACker Poetry?  Am I missing some HAC humor from later generations? I know it's true I graduated 39 years ago, but we were taught the difference between poetry and prose.

 

[Twisted]

I am a little puzzled.  Did you mean to title this thread HACker Poetry?  Am I missing some HAC humor from later generations? I know it's true I graduated 39 years ago, but we were taught the difference between poetry and prose.

He's got a point.

Prose

noun 

1.  the ordinary form of spoken or written language, without metrical structure, as distinguished from poetry or verse.

2. matter-of-fact, commonplace, or dull expression, quality, discourse, etc.