Warwick
Warwick, Warwick, I have given you all and now I have a 2.1 Warwick University, twenty-seven thousands pounds and two pence, September 29, 2014.’t
Warwick, Warwick, I have given you all and now I have a 2.1
Warwick University, twenty-seven thousands pounds and two pence, September 29, 2014.
I can’t stand your shit, Warwick.
Warwick, when will we end building random stuff?
Go fuck yourself with your new pointy logo. I don’t feel too good, I have a presentation.
I won’t write my poem till I get my loan.
Warwick, when will you be Marxist?
When will you say no to corporations?
When will you unite the working men of all countries?
When will you be worthy of your twenty Free-Education activists?
Warwick, why are your libraries never fucking empty?
Warwick, when will your geese stop being racist?
I’m sick of your insane demands, even if I may win a £20 Amazon voucher. When can I go into Rootes Grocery Store and buy what I need with my 2.1?
Warwick after all it is you and I who are perfect, not the new vice-chancellor.
I’m addressing you.
Are you going to let your intellectual life be run by The Boar?
I’m obsessed by The Boar. Its cover stares at me every time I read The Hoar.
And I’m not even part of the 6% who smokes weed every day.
Warwick, your own buildings are burning, should we join them?
Warwick, the term is ending, and the Koan has not fallen.
Yet.
