Poetry Chapbook

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<div id = "nextPoem">[[Next Page|Title Page]]</div> <div id = "cover"> Classification By: Peter Hoppe</div>

<div id ="prevPoem">[[Cover Page|Cover]]</div><div id = "nextPoem">[[Table of Contents|Table of Contents]]</div> <div id = "title"> Classification By: Peter Hoppe Published By: Paperback Ribs </div> <link href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Alegreya|Spectral+SC" rel="stylesheet">

<div id ="prevPoem">[[Table of Contents|Table of Contents]]</div><div id = "nextPoem">[[Next Poem|How To Play a Drum]]</div> <<masteraudio stop>> <div class = "play"><<playClass 'Background Info'>></div> <u>Class Struggle</u> My people’s murmurs of mirth spread like debris throughout the land after the ruler’s decree of: “We will be watching a movie today for class.” This declaration, without delay, promised sustained relief from his tyranny and professed an end to horrid agony! But, alas, there's an extra clause that befalls us, twisting us into Academia's thralls: “Please fill out this worksheet during the movie.” Hope was hung without recompense to prove he was our lord. He tempted us with rejuvenation only to pierce our hearts with tribulation. Ergo, we proclaim our flight as one chorus: “We shall not focus with this sheet before us!” <link href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Alegreya" rel="stylesheet">

<div id ="prevPoem">[[Previous Poem|Class Struggle]]</div><div id = "nextPoem">[[Next Poem|Locked Out]]</div> <<masteraudio stop>> <div class = "play"><<playDrum 'Background Info'>></div> <u>How To Play a Drum</u> Place the drum in front of you. If its contact with the floor shatters the ears, the floor, or the dreams of those around you, you had the correct form. Next, hit the drum with a steady beat. You can use your hand to smack the drum’s surface, although there are other options: a mallet, a shoe, the lack of time or effort that prevents you from playing a real instrument, or a drumstick. Your consistent playing will be completely ignored, for the xylophone will call out the correct answers before you can and the tuba will be there to support her when you miss a beat. When you will try to get back into rhythm, you will discover that the bassoon, that backstabbing bassoon, will steal your date by playing the same piece that you were going to woo her with (although, how were you going to play “I’m Yours” on a drum, I have no idea). Finally, when your piece has ended, place your drum back in its case and zip it shut with self doubt. <link href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Alegreya" rel="stylesheet">

<div id ="prevPoem">[[Previous Poem|How To Play a Drum]]</div><div id = "nextPoem">[[Next Poem|Checked Out]]</div> <<masteraudio stop>> <div class = "play"><<playLocked 'Background Info'>></div> <u>Locked Out</u> A student stands off against the door, eyeing its looming physique. Two fellow pupils linger, reading through the homework due. The teacher, plagued by tardiness, surprises no one that they’ve been afflicted with an ailing amount of class time. One by one, the pupil conference swells to encompass the door. Deodorant and perfume swelter to conjure manly flowers in the air. The volume of idle chatter builds terrorizing the ears of those around. Slams explode from doors nearby to protect their rooms from the threat of the growing roar of teen infighting. One kid slices a path to approach the door. She’s green in both age and this society. She begins to investigate the frozen handle. The metal being gives. The door creaks aside, solving the assumption that no one tried to verify. <link href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Alegreya" rel="stylesheet">

<div id ="prevPoem">[[Previous Poem|Locked Out]]</div><div id = "nextPoem">[[Next Poem|Assumptions]]</div> <<masteraudio stop>> <div class = "play"><<playCheckout 'Background Info'>></div> <u>Checked Out</u> The clerk at my Target was lovely I stared when she spoke to me bubbly: <i>By chance are you single?</i> I nodded and giggled. <i>Makes sense, for you’re fuckingly ugly.</i> <link href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Alegreya" rel="stylesheet">

<div id ="prevPoem">[[Previous Poem|Checked Out]]</div><div id = "nextPoem">[[Next Poem|Dear Past Me]]</div> <<masteraudio stop>> <div class = "play"><<playAssumption 'Background Info'>></div> <u>Assumptions</u> The project’s captain is always donning glasses, the red-eyed man, in contrast, just half-asses his work. Miss Golden Curves is here presenting as well. An F is what she is preventing. If you avoid all fats, you will never gain any weight. Plus, the sole method to maintain the perfect size is to constantly diet, although your tongue in response might riot. In order for the household to survive the man should work from eight to five. The ones who should clean all the dishes are domesticated and petite little --- girls, wearing a necklace of pearls. <link href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Alegreya" rel="stylesheet">

<div id ="prevPoem">[[Previous Poem|Assumptions]]</div><div id = "nextPoem">[[Next Poem|Undressed]]</div> <<masteraudio stop>> <div class = "play"><<playPast 'Background Info'>></div> <u>Dear Past Me</u> When her tap of friendly talk, which harbored a stream of joy that flowed throughout your chest, evaporated without any logic. You should have sailed on. Or when the teacher’s barren voice absorbed all the eagerness in the room, leaving the students with sandy knowledge in their ears. Desert that class immediately. Every moment is an ingredient to add to the recipe of your life. Two cups of mangled stress, a slice of outgrown passion, and a sprinkle of triumphal gambles. No one course can be chosen that produces the best dish of life. Yours will be yours alone. So write it all down for all to see: <i>Mistakes will happen to me!</i> <link href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Alegreya" rel="stylesheet">

<div id ="prevPoem">[[Previous Poem|Dear Past Me]]</div><div id = "nextPoem">[[Next Poem|Dance All Night]]</div> <<masteraudio stop>> <div class = "play"><<playUndressed 'Background Info'>></div> <u>Undressed</u> Across the room from me, she models her desire. A thick coat of longing is painted upon her lips. Fervor is sketched to accentuate her eyes. A thin cloth of yearning is draped down her legs. And a belt of craving is tight around her waist. However, what I model, is nothing I desire. Apprehension is taught, pulling against my wrists. A sludge of hesitance is slathered on my mouth. A band of timidness is curled around my neck. And cowardice is peaking out from my coat of moxie. It is times like this I wish I could just be undressed. <link href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Alegreya" rel="stylesheet">

<div id ="prevPoem">[[Previous Poem|Undressed]]</div><div id = "nextPoem">[[Next Poem|Imperfect Love]]</div> <<masteraudio stop>> <div class = "play"><<playDance 'Background Info'>></div> <u>Dance All Night</u> The forms of the statics have blurred long ago for the fanatics lured under the swarms of lights. Another song of a spirit gently coaxes them along, smearing all the glares of the folks drowned away. Their firm limbs of doubt are loosened by the booze and the rhythms in this place, becoming whips of grace. <link href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Alegreya" rel="stylesheet">

<div id ="prevPoem">[[Previous Poem|Dance All Night]]</div><div id = "nextPoem">[[Next Poem|Wrap Up]]</div> <<masteraudio stop>> <div class = "play"><<playImperfect 'Background Info'>></div> <u>Imperfect Love</u> Our friends kept on singing about how our love was like hidden pearls. Innocence without defect. Equipped with their confidence, we immediately dove in. Sketching our traits out, our bond looked perfect on paper. A masterpiece. A gentleman and a lass whose laughs always painted a smile. We were <i>those</i> two. Our duet was a chirpy soprano and a hearty bass. It was a sorrowful song, though, if one listened close. When alone, I could clearly hear my heart’s record, playing the blues with this relationship as its subject. I needed to discard this “affection” before I could afford not to. Like a flat singer, this was something I couldn't neglect. And this blemished love provoked me to now tear my heart away without the shed of a single tear. <link href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Alegreya" rel="stylesheet">

<div id ="prevPoem">[[Previous Poem|Imperfect Love]]</div><div id = "nextPoem">[[Back Cover|About the Author]]</div> <<masteraudio stop>> <div class = "play"><<playWrap 'Background Info'>></div> <u>Wrap Up</u> … What? Do you want something? This is the last poem I needed to write. If I had a clever idea, I’ve used it already. ... Do I need to spell it out for you? I’m burned out! I churned out what we learned about. I turned devout but I yearned a route To emerge out of this concerned drought. I’ve been smitten by these poems I’ve written while I was sittin’ in intermittent times that are ridden with rhymes hidden like a hand in mitten. It’s been a long semester and this problem has festered under the skin of a jester. You need to be an investor of time when the professor is a constant requester of work. Can’t be a rester! I feel I’ve worked my candle on both ends. Can I handle this or will I dismantle my career with a scandal if my cheating is substantial? The response from the panel will be one quite conventional: “Peter. You are now banned. Lol.” Yeah, you got it now right? That I’ve ran out of things to write poems about. I have nothing left. … Wait… ... God damn it... <link href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Alegreya" rel="stylesheet">

<<widget 'playClass'>>\ <<link $args[0]>> <<audio class play>> <</link>>\ <</widget>> <<widget 'playDrum'>>\ <<link $args[0]>> <<audio drum play>> <</link>>\ <</widget>> <<widget 'playLocked'>>\ <<link $args[0]>> <<audio locked_out play>> <</link>>\ <</widget>> <<widget 'playTitle'>>\ <<link $args[0]>> <<audio title play>> <</link>>\ <</widget>> <<widget 'playAssumption'>>\ <<link $args[0]>> <<audio assumptions play>> <</link>>\ <</widget>> <<widget 'playCheckout'>>\ <<link $args[0]>> <<audio check_out play>> <</link>>\ <</widget>> <<widget 'playDance'>>\ <<link $args[0]>> <<audio dance_all_night play>> <</link>>\ <</widget>> <<widget 'playUndressed'>>\ <<link $args[0]>> <<audio undressed play>> <</link>>\ <</widget>> <<widget 'playWrap'>>\ <<link $args[0]>> <<audio wrap_up play>> <</link>>\ <</widget>> <<widget 'playPast'>>\ <<link $args[0]>> <<audio past play>> <</link>>\ <</widget>> <<widget 'playImperfect'>>\ <<link $args[0]>> <<audio imperfect play>> <</link>>\ <</widget>> <<widget "currentdate">>\ <<print new Date().toDateString()>>\ <</widget>>

<div id ="prevPoem">[[Table of Contents|Table of Contents]]</div> <div id = "nextPoem">[[First Poem|Class Struggle]]</div> Why, hello there reader! My name is Peter Hoppe, as you probably figured out with the first two pages of this online chapbook having my name on both of them. The following is collection of ten poems that tackles situations where our minds expect one outcome and get another (a mental classification) and situations that are ingrained within the student life (a literal classification). If you wish to learn more about a certain poem, I have linked little talks between myself and myself explaining the ideas and creation arcs of the different poems I wrote. If you also wish to hear an introduction between yours truly and the voice inside my head, feel free to <<playTitle 'click here'>>. I wanted to have some sort of print introduction here, just in case you were in a spot where you couldn’t listen to sound. I get you, we’ve all been in places like that. Lookin’ out for you. <link href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Alegreya" rel="stylesheet">

<div id ="prevPoem">[[Previous Poem|Wrap Up]]</div> <<masteraudio stop>> Peter Hoppe grew up in Grafton, Wisconsin with his home settled in between suburbia and a golf course. He is currently a Computer Science major at Carroll University, with a minor in creative writing and a emphasis in game design. His love of creating, mixed with his fear of breaking objects with his hands, pushed him towards discovering that it was hard for him to physically destroy paper and programs (although some friends tease him for always breaking their code). He has a soft spot for having his creations bring a smile onto the reader or player’s faces. <link href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Alegreya" rel="stylesheet">