Seniors are ending One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest in the next two weeks. Students collaborated and wrote found poems relating to the theme of society-as-a-machine and conformity. Below are some samples from students, they created some awesome poems!
"The Combine" by Nicole G, Nicole L, Amanda P, Matt B, and Chloe G
The ward is a factory for the Combine
For fixing up mistakes made in the neighborhoods
Proven inability to adjust to society
The machinery disposes of the words like they weren't even spoken
Cheap, quick, and entirely painless
Twist him and manufacture him
Lungs pull for the thick plastic air
Faces all around you trapped, screaming
You can move your eyes but there's nothing to see.
Her eyes open again
The fear close at hand seeps in
Good as new with a welded grin
Only been sitting here fifteen minutes when you can tell it's been at least an hour
It brings joy to the Big Nurse's heart.
"Super Silver Haze" by Noah, Troy, and Ryan
It's a place for a single egg
on a number-six hook
The white tubes in the ceiling
like rods of glowing ice.
One of the girls left her machine
Dragging the Acutes from the Fog.
Over at the Chronic side,
there's something to what she sees,
like mechanical puppets
on autopilot.
That music coming from the loudspeaker
is all they have.
Do any good?
Hooee!
"A New Man"
Bone, pale, and weak
A little black and blue
They sprang into motion
Wagons loaded
Wired under control like the rest
of us
What a man can do!
He was the good sort
A new man.
"What You Want Me To Think" by Tyler, Jonathan, Sean, Jacob
I know what you want me to think
Everyone keeps on at what he's doing
Just the time it looked they might be helped, the fog would start
They'd of thought the whole bunch was crazy as loons.
I know how they work it, the fog machine.
so big I can smell the machinery inside
started slow and pumped itself full
The TV picture swirls back into the gray
Trying to slip back into the safety of the fog
Fear from all over the ward.
"Tough Lucky, Buddy" by Matt, Brendan, Liam
It is dark my lord
Long spells-three days,
years when you can't see a thing
I see a chronic float into sight
Faces hypnotized by routine
Rattling of people and machinery
Jerking around in a pattern
Fidgeting and twitching,
Responding to the dials
Negro girls running up and down the aisles
Nails pull his hands back
Zap!
Five cents worth of electricity,
Through the brain
It's for fixing up mistakes
This man is not only very very sick
It would be at the very least safe
Up to Disturbed
Tough luck, buddy.