[UNDER THE STORM poetry anthology information here. If you care for my well-being, you will click this link, "like" my entry and share this fuck of an entry with your friends and you'd cry rainbows with them after the quasi-LSD experience.] This is an attempt at prose poetry. Just like all posts in this site, feel free to lambaste this piece in a constructive manner, drop an email or post a comment.
Storm Advisory (DD/MM/YYYY)
Classes will be suspended, once tempests of outrage flood the streets with protests against laboratory classes that require ivory gowns in exclusive rooms atop marble towers of pearls and gems and promises of knowledge.
What follows class suspension will be more storms waged among those who want to hold classes despite all the turmoil and those who want to suspend classes to further study outside state-sponsored classrooms and those who want to completely abolish classes and those in between the aforementioned categories.
Classes will be suspended a couple of times and it may or may not resume anytime soon but something's quite certain and anyone may disagree with the claim that:
every so after, with enough and potent civil disturbances--which are natural catastrophes or staged occurrences, depending on the lenses you choose to use--classes may be suspended from time to time depending on--as it has been said a number of times--the force, which is equal to mass multiplied by acceleration.