Editor’s note: Normally, the Campus Times doesn’t publish poetry. But these works were so moving, we felt it would complete our image as a morally emaciated, corrupt media outlet to withhold these from the public. Don’t get us wrong, we still are, but at least now we have poetry. Enjoy! 

 

A Precipitatory Limerick 

I was on my way to The Pit,

Wet pavement, my food and I bit.

     The next day I snooped,

     Right after I pooped,

My god, there’s a worm in my shit!

 

 

Rainworm rhyme

My name is Worm,

I like to squirm.

And when it rains,

I lose my brains.

I leave the ground,

Slick sidewalk bound.

I like to wriggle

And make kids giggle.

 

Epitaphium Lumbricus

Just yesterday,

A man walked by,

Who did not mean to make me die.

Without a look,

He trampled me,

And did not even even stop to see,

That now I’m dead,

From his wet boot,

Without so much as a salute.

You saw my death,

And yet stood by,

It did not even make you sigh. 

What does it mean,

To be a worm?

It means your life is quite short term.

Tagged: poetry Worms


Free the monkeys

These poor creatures were being experimented on to learn calculus, neuroscience, electrical circuitry, and art. They were staying up until 4 a.m. trying to figure out how to complete these wild assignments.

Bird Flu? I sure hope they did!

We asked her if she’s ever seen one of these species fly before, when they wanted to, of course. Duck let out a nervous chuckle and flushed bright red, fidgeting in her chair.

Exclusive interview: the little guys inside the Wilco speakers

In an exclusive interview with the CT on Sunday, I sat down with Dirm Pittleford, the chieftain of the little guys in the Wilco speakers, to find out more.