Iliad magazine may 2014

iliad literary-art magazine Volume XXXVIII Clarke Central High School

catharsis

ILIAD literary-art magazine 2014 volume XXXVIII Dedicated with love to Harry Cooper, Ellen Harris, Lawrence Harris and Lenore Katz.

“From their earliest years children live on familiar terms with disruptive emotions, fear and anxiety are an intrinsic part of their everyday lives, they continually cope with frustrations as best as they can. It is through fantasy that children achieve CATHARSIS.� - Maurice Sendak

Clarke Central High School 350 S. Milledge Ave. Athens, Ga. 30605 (706) 357-5200

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table of contents ABREACTION 8 > ‘Lucy’ > Porter McLeod 10 > ‘Kita’ > Lela Jenkins 10 > ‘Regress’ > Ethan Crane 11 > ‘Fractal’, pt 1. > Mary Merritt 11 > ‘Geometric’ > Gregg Guichard 12 > ‘Vietato’ > Nicholas Byrne 13 > ‘Stop!’ > Jocelynn Burton 15 > ‘Individual’ > Bob Han 16 > ‘Earthbound’ > Porter McLeod 17 > ‘Myrtle’ > Chad Rhym 18 > ‘Magnetic’ > Perrin Aycock 19 > ‘Candle Light’ > Hana Chaney 20 > ‘To: Henry Scott’ > Matthew Ward 21 > ‘Ode to the Weston Institute’ > Henry Scott 22 > ‘Remember?’ > Hanna Harper 23 > ‘Bite’ > Maria Velasquez 24 > ‘Coffee Table’ > Baylor Ward 25 > ‘Transformation’ > Anna Grossman 26 > ‘Distanced’ > Porter McLeod 27 > ‘Estranged’ > Gregg Guichard 28 > ‘Lover’s Eyes’ > Sarahi Garfias 28 > ‘Really’ > Sara Goodie 29 > ‘Prowl’ > Cassie Tye

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KENOSIS 32 > ‘Numb’ > Louise Platter 32 > ‘Hollow’ > Maria Velasquez 33 > ‘With God All Things are Possible’ > Jocelynn Burton 34 > ‘Great Catfish Hole’ > Blake Mustard 34 > ‘Eavesdropping’ > Esther Conaway 35 > ‘Naomi’ > Porter McLeod 36 > ‘Fractal’, pts. 2 + 3 > Mary Merritt 36 > ‘Lilith’ > Mary Merritt 37 > ‘Untitled’ > Skylar Lehmann 38 > ‘Alex Gilbert’ > Gregg Guichard 39 > ‘The Book of Derrick’ > Aaron Holmes 40 > ‘Sailor’ > Tiernan O’Neill 40 > ‘Who?’ > Jocelynn Burton 41 > ‘Mod’ > Marina Byrne 42 > ‘Admission denied’ > Sarahi Garfias 43 > ‘Uncertain’ > Ella Sams 44 > ‘Fannie Lou’ > Gabe Harper 46 > ‘Pluto’s Rising’ > Tiger Villaveces 47 > ‘Broken’ > Anonymous 47 > ‘The Alone’ > Gregg Guichard 48 > ‘Shifting the blame’ > Audrey Nelson 49 > ‘Tianmen’ > Susanna Conine-Nakano 49 > ‘Empty’ > Jonitta Julius 50 > ‘Exit’ > Audrey Hinkle 52 > ‘Concentric’ > Emily Watson 53 > ‘Self’ > Sara Goodie 54 > ‘Perched’ > Hannah Rollins 55 > ‘The American Dream’ > Ivey Brackett 55 > ‘Instar’ > Ethan Crane

2014 iliad literary-art magazine

KAIROSIS 58 > ‘Sk8’ > Tiernan O’Neill 59 > ‘Untitled’ > Rad Brosius 60 > ‘Wisdom, Mandible’ > Audrey Nelson 61 > ‘Fractal’, pts. 4 + 5 + 6 > Mary Merritt 62 > ‘My Angel’ > Tierra Hayes 63 > ‘New Generations, Old Traditions’ > Susanna Conine-Nakano 64 > ‘Will Ride... I Will Stand’ > Brittney Butler 65 > ‘Franklin, NC’ > Porter McLeod 66 > ‘Finding Home’ > Gansiry Thioub 67 > ‘That Look’ > Yung Kipreos 68 > ‘Forest Vengeance’ > Luke Slaboda 68 > ‘Inspired’ > Patra Kennedy 69 > ‘The Grass’ > Makayla Richards 70 > ‘A Running List of Things That Remind Me of You’ > Brittney Butler 71 > ‘Loop’ > Jack Byrne 72 > ‘Stairs’ > Rad Brosius 73 > ‘Strata’ > Nicholas Byrne 74 > ‘Ode To...’ > Javonte Barrow 75 > ‘Beggar Woman’ > Matthew Ward 76 > ‘Capital Coast’ > Tiernan O’Neill 77 > ‘Endless Travels’ > Ana Sherer-Estevez 78 > ‘Casso’ > Tiger Villaveces 79 > ‘Life as brothers’ > Jaymel Isreal 80 > ‘Bloom’ > Mary Merritt 82 > ‘Matched’ > Louise Platter 83 > ‘Plethora’ > Nicholas Byrne

OIKOS 4 > Theme letter 5 > Letter from the editor 84 > Editorial board 85 > Staff 86 > Friends of the iliad 87 > Index 88 > Colophon

Dance of Pain Gregg Guichard, senior

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Catharsis

Theme Letter for the 2014 iliad

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very student and teacher at Clarke Central High School creates their own fantasy. These dreams are unique and, expressed through art, display an intimate part of each person. Creation shows how we deal with problems and emotions, and through creation, every member of the CCHS community can reach catharsis.

Catharsis - from the Greek kathairein, “to cleanse” - refers to the means by which artists use creation to purge themselves of the deep-set emotions that linger in their minds. As high schoolers, we are fraught with anxiety, anger, fear, pity, happiness and excitement which weighs on our minds. With art, we can cleanse ourselves, be it by words, a camera or a paintbrush.

According to Aristotle’s original metaphor for poetry, catharsis has four stages - abreaction, kenosis, kairosis and closure - that exist to fulfill the purgation of emotion.

Abreaction: reliving a memory, and stirring up the emotion again so that it is vivid in one’s mind. The feelings intended to be expelled by reliving generally are hurtful, such as anger or sadness. Reproducing the heat felt when angry or the emptiness felt when sad hurts just as the experience did, but by reliving it intensely, all that is pent up can be let out.

Kenosis: emptiness of the self. Feelings which haunt, hurt or torment can be eliminated simply through emptying the mind. Kenosis is resignation to, but not defeat by, the situation. Fate runs its course. Hands-off, dark. Unseen potential.

Kairosis: fulfillment of time, the climactic end of the story, when the truth is revealed and satisfaction is achieved. The moment when all obstacles are overcome and the mind is at peace. When we face a crisis and must solve it by looking into ourselves for the solution, we use the intricacies of who we are to reach the end of the journey.

Closure: It can affect what information individuals seek out and how they process it. It is the need for a stable answer to a situation, and in this magazine, each piece can be considered closure for the artist. By their expression, their pain or anger, they have released those emotions and reached some sense of relief.

We wanted to showcase these pieces because, through art, we can deal with all of our internal struggles. We find ways to purge ourselves of destructive emotions in an effort to be better. Catharsis offers everyone a chance to, in a sense, have a clean slate. The product of this release is reflected beautifully in the work of Clarke Central’s creators.

- Maria Velasquez, Art Director,

senior

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2014 iliad literary-art magazine

Letter from the editor

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s teenagers, we all feel on an immense scale. Pain; anger; frustration; love; lust; fear. As high schoolers, we are full of raw emotion.

But, often, we unhealthily keep it bottled in.

There is something not so accepted about freely talking of emotions. But in order to reach closure and to feel at peace, we have to let them out. It is my goal as the 2013 Editor-in-Chief of the iliad to provide a safe place, free of boundaries and judgment, for the students and faculty of Clarke Central High School to do just that: let it all out.

When considering the concept of catharsis, the iliad staff worked as a whole to apply the four stages - abreaction, kenosis, kairosis and closure to the magazine and while incorporating student art. Using the first three stages as the sections of the magazine, we decided collectively that each piece in the magazine would reach closure - the fourth and final stage - on its own.

It is my hope that each page of this maga- There are stories told in the iliad. Their zine tells part of a story. conclusions may be indeterminate, It does not have to their subjects may be undefined. The be deep; the emotion absence of specificity, however, lets behind each piece does emotion shine through. not have to be tragic or traumatizing. Every day we spend alive is a tale in itself, full of emotion seeking release. Before going to sleep each night, we seek - generally unconsciously - our own catharsis.

That said, the stories in this book are not mine. I cannot claim to know the feeling behind each piece; I cannot know for sure what or who or where inspired every poem, story, painting or photograph. But I am privileged to have been given even a glimpse.

What I do know for sure is this: there are stories told in the iliad. Their conclusions may be indeterminate, their subjects may be undefined. The absence of specificity, however, lets emotion shine through.

Bravely, the minds of Clarke Central behind each piece reached some form of release when they wrote the last word, clicked the shutter button or put down the brush for the last time.

- Ethan Crane, Editor-in-Chief,

junior

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abreaction 6

2014 iliad literary-art magazine

the act of re-living; bringing back a memory in order to expel it from the mind catharsis

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LUCY Porter McLeod,

senior

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Kita

Regress

Lela Jenkins, sophomore

I. When I leave you, accomplished and ambitious, I smile, my demeanor tawny once more, Reminiscent of youth but innocence all gone.

III. I give myself - vulnerable, seething, joyous - to

the flames I am ardent, and with your scathing tongue I put, Pen to skin so that all I feel pour out in ink.

V. Step, step, step on me like a weed in the spring, For even the dandelion seems beautiful, I accept that I may grow to be no more.

II. I see your smile and love each bit, But strong am I and I am not in love, For you will never make me fall.

IV. If you seek another I may find myself beneath the rapids, Like before flesh shudders with orange plumes, Conductor of two foes feeding on my mind.

VI. Find me radiant and golden in the grass, Although there may be more we are alone, I feel the scorning eyes of hawks upon my chest.

Ethan Crane,

junior

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2014 iliad literary-art magazine

Fractal, pt. 1

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e keeps looking at me. Sneaking sideways glances. I uncross my legs, stretching them out so that he can get a better view. I have nothing to hide. My eyes catch on a rip in the netted tights that run up my legs. I pull my coat down slightly in an attempt to cover it. Across the room I catch my reflection in one of the windows that separate us from the cold night air. My hair is a tangled mess, laying limp against my face, falling onto my shoulders. My makeup, plastered to my face, is painted on in a way that gives my face the empty perfection of a china doll. I like that.

It is rare that anyone sees my real face... I even forget sometimes that I have one after all. I pull back my hair, revealing a long scar that even my mask can not hide, reminding me of a far away childhood buried deep within. It scars me much more severely than the mark lets on. I see his eyes widen, and this time I turn towards him and smirk, raising my eyebrows in a suggestive way that I have come to master. The man blushes and turns away from me, becoming deeply fixated by the speckled linoleum

floor. I look down at my body and pull my coat closer around me, concealing my revealing blouse.

In this place, women like me are common.

I glance around the station, a collection of faces stare past me, occasionally catching my glance and shifting uncomfortably. Was I really the lowest?

The rugged guy in the corner sat sneering at me like a perv. In fact, most of the guys in here would probably take me, so why am I the filthy one? I hate them. They think they know me. How absurd. They know nothing.

I didnt choose this life. Quit looking at me. This is never what I wanted. Quit looking at me.

I could scream. But I don’t. I keep that cool smirk on my face, and close my eyes, letting them roll back into my head, swimming in tears.

In this state, surrounded by the blackness of my solitude, I am safe. (cont. pg 36) Mary Merritt, sophomore

Geometric Gregg Guichard, senior

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Vietato Nicholas Byrne, junior

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2014 iliad literary-art magazine

Stop!

Stop !

Silence don’t wanna hear any thing Alone in my room staring at the ceiling The voices I hear inside my head Ugh. Tthe way I feel about you I love you I love you not I care for you well I care not My eyes weaken my tears roll on the side of my face I’m asleep I see you alone Smiling at yourself I wonder what goes through your head Who makes you happy who makes you sad Can I fill in those empty holes

Be the one who you can always hold On to well at least help you Give you a peace of mind Hold on your walking towards me My hands get sweaty My heart beats faster I’m scared what are you about to say Breath Breath Takes a deep breath I’m awake again Gasping for air Whew That was close I escaped the mystery of love Jocelynn Burton, senior

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개인 이 세상에는 70억명이 있다. 각 각 이 사회에서 추구하는 것과 보는 시 각들이 다르며 사는 환경도 다르다. 그중에 명예와 부를 얻고자 하는 사 람들이 있는 반면, 오늘이 무사히 끝 나기를 간절히 바라는 사름들도 있 을 것이다. 우리는 이 관대한 지구에 서 어떠한 삶을 살고 있는지, 그리고 현명하게 살고 있는지 와 같은 질문 들을 스스로 자문해볼 필요가 있다. 이와 같은 과정에서 나는 여러 경험 들로 부터 내 자신을 되새겨보고 나 한테 살아가는 데에서 무엇이 중요 하고 필수적인지 검토해 보았다. 내가 중요하게 생각하는것 중 하나 는 친구이다. 초등학교 육학년부터 중학교 일학년 까지 미국 아이다호 주에서 공부를 마친뒤 친구들의 임 펙트와 중요성을 깨닭았다. 난 아이 스 하키 떼문에 미국에서 진정한 친 구들를 만들수 있었다. 그 당시 우등 생들이 아이스하키를 했기 때문에 지식이 풍부하고 영리한 친구들을 사귈 수 있었다. 이 친구들을 통해 나는 선의의 경쟁으로 내 학교 성적 을 올릴 수 있을 뿐만 아니라, 그 친 구들의 격려로부터 학교 최초로 동 양인 전교회장을 할 수 있었다. 처음 에는 언어와 문화적 차이로 인해 외 롭고 힘든 미국생활이었지만 나의 소중한 친구들로부터 행복과 용기, 그리고 내가 진정 누구인지를 알 수 있게 도와줬었다. 아이다호 주를 떠난 후 다시 한국으 로 왔을 때 큰 충격을 겪었다. 나보 다 우수한 학생들이 수십 명이었다. 이것이 바로 문제였다. 미국에서는 나를 인정해주는 우등생이였던 내 가 자만해졌던 것이다. 이 사실을 깨 달은 뒤 나의 미국 생활을 다시 생 각해 보았는데, 이 사실을 알기 전 의 모습의 문제들을 찾았다. 미국에 서는 나보다 공부나 운동을 못했던 친구들을 존중해주지 못했고 무시 했던 것이다. 그러므로 나는 더욱 더

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겸손함 사람이 되기 위해 노력해야 겠다고 다짐했다.

내가 또한 중요하게 여기는 것은 이 해심 이다. 어린나이에 한국과 미국 에서 살수 있는 특권이 있었다. 이 기회로 영어와 한국어를 할 수 있을 뿐만 아니라 다양한 나라와 문화를 가진 사람들을 만날수 있게 되었고, 나 또한 여러 문화의 특성들을 배울 수 있었다. 이뿐만 아니라 나는 여러 분류의 사람들과 어울려 다녀 보았 고, 경제적으로 힘든 삶까지도 살아 보았다. 그래서 여러 사람들을 이해 할 수 있었고, 공감할 수 있었다. 이 이해심과 배려심을 알게된 후로부 터 타인이 말을 하지 않아도 어떤 상 황에서 어떤 생각을 하고 있는지를 느낄 수 있기 때문에 그 사람을 배려 해주거나 도와주거나 또는 공감할 수 있는 능력을 갔게해주었다.

우리는 살아가면서 다양한 사람들 을 만날 것이고 자기자신 또한 다양 한 처지에 있을 것이다. 그러므로 이 귀중한 경험들을 바탕으로 하여 같 은 삶을 살고 있는 사람을 더욱 더 이해하고 도와줘야한다. 또한 자기 자신이 이런한 경험들로부터 배워 성숙해져야 한다고 생각한다. 이렇 게 한다면 주위의 사람들이랑 더 친 해질수 있을 뿐만 아니라, 더 넓은 시각과 마음으로 사람들을 바라 볼 수 있을 것이라고 믿는다.

Seong Hyun Han, sophomore

2014 iliad literary-art magazine

Individual

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n this world there are 7 billion people. In this society, each person has their own wants, perspectives, and backgrounds. Out of those people, some will pursue riches and glory, and on the other hand, some will just want their day to end safely. In this great vast world, we should then ask ourselves what kind of life we are living and if we are living a wise one. From this process, I have reconsidered all of my past experiences in life, and pondered the things that I valued the most and the characteristics that I deem the most important to me as I continue on with my life.

One of things that are most important to me are my friends.

After attending school in Moscow, Idaho from fourth grade to seventh grade, I realized the impact and importance of friends.

In my case, I was able to make great friends when I started playing ice hockey. At that time, most of the honors students played ice hockey. Therefore, I was able to make friends that were highly intelligent. Through healthy competitions with my friends, I was able to get higher grades in school, and become the first Asian student body president as well.

When I first went to Moscow I was very depressed and lonely, but my friends were able to help me find happiness, courage, and my self-identity.

I was shocked when I returned to South Korea. In Korea, a lot of students were smarter and brighter than me. This made me realize a fault in my life. In the United States I was a person that had everyone’s respect and achieved academic excellence, but this caused me to become conceited.

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After realizing this fact, I thought of the times in the U.S. that I was conceited. In the U.S., I usually didn’t respect the people that weren’t smart or couldn’t play sports as well as I could. Therefore, from this realization I truly thought that I need to change and try to become more humble.

Another thing that I also deem important is to understand. From a young age, I had the opportunity to live in South Korea and the United States. This opportunity enabled me to not only be bilingual, but also allowed me to meet people of various cultures, and adopt some of their traits. Not only that, I associated with different types of people, and even had to live an economically hard life.

Due to theses experiences, I am now able to understand and empathize various types of people.

From this ability to understand, I can feel how another person feels and thinks in certain situations.

So in those situations I am able to help them if they need it.

As we live on with our lives, we are going to meet many people and we, ourselves, will also be in different situations.

Therefore, from these experiences I think that we should try to help and understand others that are or were in the same situations that we were once in. Also, we should learn from our past experiences, as was the case for humility and me. By doing so, we will be able to become closer with the people around us, and not only that, be able to have a wider perspective and mind when it comes to other people.

Bob Han,

sophomore

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Earthbound We treat her as if She were a grain of sand.

Poisoning her growth Paving her roots Her blood does not drip anymore.

She is worthy of life But is growing old Her wrinkles deepening.

Her beauty is elegant, Her scent still strong.

She has taken me to her highs Presented me with her body: passively youthful.

It is hard to watch her go Kaleidoscopic pain Porter McLeod, senior

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Myrtle Chad Rhym, junior

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Candle Light

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Magnetic

his is my story.

A story that begins at night.

By a candle light.

I shouldn’t remember it. That night. That night I took my first breath, that I opened my eyes for the first time and saw the world around me. But I do.

I will always remember that night. That night is played over and over in my dreams until I feel like I’m going mad, that a darker demon inside of me wants to come out and show the world who I really am.

And what happened.

I want to tell someone, but who is there to tell?

It’s just me here, alone, living in my uncle’s house after my mother and father both died.

On the night I was born.

By a candle light.

That created a fire.

That created a rage.

That created a monster.

That created me.

I often go to that place, sneaking away from my uncle in the middle of the night, when the moon is

Perrin Aycock, junior

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2014 iliad literary-art magazine

high and stars come out to say hello.

“Hello, little one. Back again for a visit?”

This is a place that no little girl should go. But I am not a little girl.

I haven’t been a little girl since that night. And I never will again. I was grown up when I first was born.

And this place whispers stories of the past, past stories told by the flame of a candle light, and I will sit on the grass that is no longer here since it was burned away by the newest story. My story.

And the owl will hoot and the mouse will squeak and the wind will howl and I will listen.

The owl tells of past adventures flying over castles and seeing princesses rescued by princes in the middle of the night. By candle light.

And the mouse will tell of days when it stole pieces of bread from the wicked baker to feed his family. By candle light.

And the wind will tell tales of the great battles it has seen, the ships it has navigated and the life it has brung. And it tells of days when it blew out the candle light.

“Why didn’t you blow out my candle light?” I would ask him. And by shaking the leaves and the limbs of scorched trees it would reply,

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“Because, little one, I was not present at your candle light. But I wouldn’t have been able to blow it out, for your candle light was so happy when you were born that it just had to grow.”

And I would look at the ruins of burned up wooden pieces that held a tiny, burned family chair positioned in the middle of the ruins , that no one would sit in.

I will sit on the grass that is no longer here since it was burned away by the newest story. My story.

A swing that no little girl would swing in.

A crib that would never be used.

And a telephone that would make no more calls.

And I would stand there, in the tiny ruins, and I would lay down, and I would close my eyes, and I would cry.

By candle light.

Hana Chaney, BHL 8th grade

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WI

To: Henry Scott Athens Ga. 30607

Weston Institute

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fter what seemed like days of moronic monotonous paperwork in reviewing your applications, only due to the dismay of our admission policy, which is a thorough examining of each students application (even in the unfortunate case, as was yours, when there is not much there), we have made our decision. A decision I feel that was made the moment we laid eyes on the disgusting filth that was your entry plea. Your lack of credentials was upsetting, but upon digging deeper into your resume we found a blatant ignorance in the realm of academics and a desolate void where one’s education inspires judgement and philosophy. I won’t lie to you, I was rather sick for days after reading your applications, I was unable to eat, sleep, even to attend our annual lakeside polo match. I pondered suicide for a while - just the knowledge that somewhere out there, vile like you walk the earth is enought to question life itself. We were also alarmed by your obviously deficient mental health. Just the fact that you believed you had a chance, the privilege to walk these glorious halls of The Weston Institute, is enough to raise serious questions. You wouldn’t even be qualified to clean the bathrooms of our mediocre rivals Swarthhouse. You, sire, are repulsive. And so it is with a resounding “NO” that I reply to your schooling bid.

You are not welcome here at our sanctuary of cultured attainments. Please die.

Sir Beverly Wickle Weston 18th Generation.

Admissions President of The Weston Institute.

Matthew Ward, senior

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2014 iliad literary-art magazine

Ode to The Weston Institute I counted down the days ‘til I got the letter;

The very thought of it brought a shiver down my spine.

However, I see I should have known better:

Now I see you will never, ever be mine.

The thought of you got me high,

But here you left me low.

I feel lost, I have been let me go.

I can only cry,

I can never glow.

Now I see I will live life in woe.

I never once thought that I’d feel so wronged...

Or maybe it was I who stepped foot out of bounds?

An institute only for those above and beyond,

At Weston you must last more than ten rounds.

With ceilings so high,

And lakes sprawling clear,

To be rejected was my greatest fear.

Why did I apply?

I was too cavalier!

For the rest of my life I’ll just be a cashier.

Weston, Weston, all glory to thee:

Let the school and its spirit bleed through all the land!

Its name and its logo evoke power and prestige:

Through time, war and famine it will always withstand!

Knowledge and honor

Be upon every man!

Let he do as he please, do as he can!

But I’m just a goner,

I don’t have a plan,

I might as well just pray in Bhutan!

Henry Scott,

senior

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Remember?

I love the cold I have always loved the cold Remember?

The backyard was our slide With our sleds And the snow was our blanket Remember?

Do you remember Our long driveway And our windows in every room Do you?

I’m starting to forget My room has one window It looks out onto a wall And we don’t have a backyard Why isn’t there snow?

I hate the heat I have always hated the heat Remember?

Why were things so much better then?

Why did I love our long driveway?

Why do windows matter?

Because that was my childhood And we left it behind Do you remember my childhood?

I’m starting to forget Hanna Harper,

junior

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Bite Maria Velasquez,

catharsis

senior

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Coffee Table

I

Today is the end of my life. t’s sitting on the coffee table. I take a glance at I am at this point the oldest and wisest I have it and think about the beauty, the brutal beauty. ever been, and I don’t see myself getting much more As a means for the end, it will definitely do the old or wise. I am not scared. Look at it, it beckons trick. Guarantee. There’s enough firepower in that me. It’s such raw beauty, lying there on the coffee thing to bust up a cinder block with three hits; I’ve table. It’s clean too. I greased it twice yesterday, once seen it before. On soft flesh, it will definitely do the today. I polish it because I want to see the face of trick. death, completely unveiled. I am not lazy. I had to That coffee table was once my grandmother’s. I walk into town to get the grease, and had to scavwould sit on it when I was a child and she would enge for the money to buy it. That’s a days work by pet me, and she would sing to me. It’s the only furthe time you walk back to the outskirts. I have loadniture I have other than this wicker chair I’m sitting ed the gun. I embrace it. As I hold the gun firmly, it in. shakes my hand firmly back, the handshake with Life hasn’t been good to me. I live in this shack on death. I will prolong this moment. Never have I felt the edge of town. During the day I collect newspaso alive. Not since grandma at least. I remember per and sticks; I paste the newspaper on the walls her. She told me stories of the Greek gods and their and burn the wood to stay warm. I can never warm adventures. I felt alive then. I would wrestle with up, my heart is cold. I had a house in town when Hercules, consult Athena, and desolate the Trojans.

I lived with my grandmother. They took her away I was alive then. Those heros knew how to live. from me when she died, two months later they took Oh they did alright, so much so their lives were the house away. I bummed around town and held a captured by the stars; they live in the heavens. It’s few jobs. But a paycheck doesn’t make the pain go a beautiful night; you can see every star on the away, and the drink wouldn’t make the time pass. outskirts of town. I can see Hercules, he’s got me Goddamn time. Goddamned me. pinned me here on earth.

I am young -- 25 -- and old. I am done. I have I am young – 25 – and old. I am done. If I were in the stars I’d lick him. I am not in the my whole life in front I have my whole life in front of me, stars, I am not a Greek of me, and that’s the and that’s the problem. hero. There isn’t much problem. I can’t think of for me to show other many solutions and I’ve than this gun and that thought; oh I’ve thought! coffee table. This gun won’t rust, but that table will I am friendly and get along well with anyone. I am rot if I die. a rather skilled conversationalist who can carry on Who would look after it? about anything, usually nothing. Always nothing.

My grandma did so much looking after, at least It’s never worth the time to say it usually. I just say I could look after her coffee table. And if I looked it to say it, I just breathe to breathe. I can’t think of after someone else, then they could look after the many solutions, only one really. The idea used to coffee table when I died. And they could see me in scare me. I would push it out of my head and carry the stars. And I could wrestle Hercules, and I could on carrying on. sing to Grandma. Grandma isn’t in the stars. She is Carry on carrying on. more worthy than any mythical hero, she is more It takes a lot to bear it all, to carry the load. It’s wearing, physically. Mentally I am broken, I am slip- worthy. I twist death’s hand towards the sky. I stand.

I will live. I will live for her, for this table; for me. I ping. Now I cling to the idea. It is my life preserver. squeeze with all my might and fire into the sky. It Save me because I am sinking and I can’t breathe shoots out stars that form in the likeness of Grandanymore. When I do I just breathe to breathe. No, ma’s face. She is wrestling Hercules and winning.

I am not scared of the darkness, the emptiness, the Tears run down my face, its the most beautiful aloneness. I already am those, I can’t fool myself. thing I’ve ever seen and I will look upon it every Who would care if I were to cease to exist. I am night for as long as I live. Tomorrow I will pawn this alone. And if I had companionship I would still be gun and buy another wicker chair to share. alone. I am alone inside, I am empty inside. No if it were to end then it would be a blessing. I would be Baylor Ward, set free, I would hurt no more, no longer be lonely. senior

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Transformation Anna Grossman, junior

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Distanced Porter McLeod, senior

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2014 iliad literary-art magazine

Estranged I guess you caught me wearing my blind eye So I never really stood a chance Then again, I was always good at make-believing That everything was at its best Ignoring all the signs that said we wouldn’t last Because you gave me something I never had So you gave me the best of you So you could have the upper hand You made me feel like I was on top of the world So you pushed me off a building Just to see if I was made of glass Your words stuck to me as if I were paper So you struck a match But I guess we’re both young and stupid To think we could thrive with just these hands Writing our names on the pavement Ignoring that chalk on cement won’t last My bare hands holding onto your heart Keeping you to promises you never made Pushing my hopes and dreams upon you Running my own self into the ground All you wanted was a thrill, a risk But too scared jump & fly In the end I just want closure But how can you mend something you’ll never know you broke?

You can’t give back something you never knew you took Gregg Guichard,

senior

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Lover’s Eyes Under the midnight sky waves ignite a travelers dreams a shadow living in the dark One last stem of hope falters to the ground His thoughts suppress his own heart Light exposes his insecurities Fire rises from under his uneven breath Every moment meant more He wanted to be seen He wanted to be fearless He wanted to be more He was the unopened door and could no longer be ignored swift movement secured his outer body wind clashes him slowly his mind blurred by the shadows of his past this moment was his until the dark shifted towards the light Sarahi Garfias, senior

Really Distractions from abstractions jerked me back to living day and I couldn’t handle it.

I’m sorry you were there for it.

See, life gets messier by the hour and I’m not the best at coping.

I was angry.

But not at you.

I know that you are innocent.

Please don’t think I want that to change.

I shouldn’t have yelled.

I’m sorry… really.

I’m sorry for not thinking and blaming my problems on you.

And I am so, so sorry that I watched you wilt and smiled.

Sara Goodie,

freshman

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Prowl Cassie Tye,

senior

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kenosis

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the act of self-emptying; absence of emotions in order to become more receptive

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Numb i am high speed, full speed, speed, speed speed. my mind is never quiet, not for a moment. but an eternity is a far cry from a moment. i am snowflakes, ice cicles, ice, ice, ice. i cannot feel my fingers, or anything really.

Louise Platter,

junior

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Jocelynn Burton, senior

With God All Things Are Possible

Feeling alone With no one to hold Blood boiling and running wildly within Clustered, jammed, pain, hurt Give up, there’s no one here.

Don’t trust anyone; everyone is against you.

Excuses, lies, broken promises Is what they all have told you.

No commitment Struggling Darkness Emptiness Breaks down to your knees.

Let’s pray.

Dear god is how you start.

I been to Hell and back is what you say.

Love Joy Happiness Comfort Is what you need.

I trust you is what you tell him.

Amen is how you finish.

Your days get brighter You find love And your life gets better.

One thing to remember.

With God all things are possible!

Hollow Maria Velasquez, senior

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Great Catfish Hole I get in my boat with a rod, bow and quiver Ready to float down my catfish river.

I get to the spot at which I stop Rods ready and bows on top.

I see the glimmer of the fish to shoot it I could only wish.

The sight rest between the fins on my wide open catfish bend For this fish was elegant Brought to the top by my liver scent.

My rod bends down, and my line screams Happy to get a free meal it seems.

As I saw what I had hooked, It didn’t take a second chance, a second look.

I grabbed my bow as I lifted my pole, The fish rose in my catfish hole.

It twas not a catfish, but a creature It had razor sharp teeth: a true meat eater.

As I saw the dinosaur come to the top, Knowing he wasn’t hooked, I took my shot.

As the arrow soared towards the heart, A glimmer of light hit the fish like art.

As it penetrated deep within, The true fight would begin.

All my line and an arrow in the heart would not make this fish stop, would not make him part As I grabbed my bow and holstered him in, I realized how old this fish must have been.

To be so beautiful, but so ugly to see, A true master of deception he must be.

Five feet long and as wide as a dog This is a true catch, some would call a hog.

As I pulled the lifeless fish to the boat, He had one more trick, one more hope.

Straight out of the water, he twisted and jumped.

Ripped my arrow out with a thump.

And then he was gone had disappeared with my pole Into the murky water of my catfish hole.

And to this day I see the great gar Swimming with a hole in his back from afar.

One day I will meet the beast once more The wonderful fish with a hole in his core, But for now the fishing is at a lull Down here in my great catfish hole.

Eavesdropping Did you hear about that guy who broke his hand?

His hand went straight through the glass I just ran.

They senior prank was freeze tag They dressed up in black and played freeze tag I just ran.

He was running and he tried to open the door But it was a pull not a push His hand went straight through the glass Then they sprayed silly string all over the lockers They sprayed it in Dr. Hooker’s face I just ran.

He had glass all over him He had to go to the nurse I just ran.

Then they sprayed Dr. Hooker He was mad They was finna get wrote up I just ran.

Esther Conaway,

sophomore

Blake Mustard,

senior

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Naomi

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Porter McLeod,

senior

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Fractal, pts. 2 + 3

M

y wife is going to kill me. I haven’t had the chance to call her yet. I should’ve been home an hour ago. Cops suck. I’m not sure what I am even doing here. I know I was speeding but I wasn’t the only one. Plus I was late. Don’t they usually just give you a ticket?

This place is horrible. The room is full of criminals and I do not deserve to be here. I wish I was in the comfort of my own home. The chairs feel dirty, and I begin to imagine the others who have touched this same seat. I shift in my chair. I wonder when they are going to let us make a call.... My cell phone is dead.

I glance around the room and notice the woman sitting to my right. I don’t have to wonder why she is here because her outfit tells all, and her face looks like a Halloween mask. Still, she is kind of hot. But women like her are traps. Waiting to lure in loyal husbands to their adulterous fiery deaths that await them in hell. At least that is what the minister at our church always drones on about most Sundays as I struggle to keep my eyes open... and my mind away from sin.

I don’t think I ever let myself have fun.

I’m not sure that I do now, either.

Lilith Mary Merritt, sophomore

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She stretches out to reveal a shapely pair of legs.

God, my wife would be horrified by this woman.

I try and think about work, about the big stack of forms that still need to be filled out whenever the hell I get of of here… But my eyes yet again wander to the woman and then she pulls back her long black hair to reveal a deep scar that stretches across her jaw line, connecting her chin to her earlobe in one swooping line. I must gasp, because she turns towards me and grins. I look away, quickly.

I wonder if her pimp gave her the scar. My eyes scan the room. Maybe the guy in black is her pimp.

He’s a big guy, but I think pimps wear jewelry or something. The twitchy guy looks about 18 and is probably a virgin, so that eliminates him. Jesus, at 18 I was married and expecting a child. I wish I had landed myself in some trouble back then. I don’t think I ever let myself have fun. I’m not sure that I do now, either, but it’s not like being a married man with 4 kids and a full-time job is supposed to be fun.

I bet she has fun.

2014 iliad literary-art magazine

Untitled Skylar Lehmann, freshman

S

itting here reminds me of the last time I was sit- didn’t see this coming. This is practically expected ting in a police station, hands cuffed behind my growing up. Joining a gang is almost a rite of passage in my neighborhood, and if you aren’t locked back. I only ever got busted once before this, up for good by twenty then you are doing pretty when I was a kid. Back then I was just a delivery well by most people’s standards. It’s not like I don’t boy though. My eyes burn, red from anger and the accept my heritage, but I still find myself wanting to handful of other substances that always seem to be the guy who now sits across from me. The man accompany a Friday night. My hands itch to rub my wears a suit and thick glasses, and keeps looking at tired eyelids but the cuffs that bind them still don’t the clock because he probably has somewhere to be, budge. I have been sitting here for some time now. with someone who misses him.

What are they waiting for? Or is this just punishBut I’m not stupid. ment for being a part of the biggest drug cartel in That guy is in here for a reason, just like the rest the Midwest? of us, and he keeps eyeing the girl next to him. HysI guess it could be worse. I could be dead, especially after what went down at the last deal. But now terical. Despite the reality of my current situation, I want so desperately right now to be in my own bed, I am alive, and I am safe. The word seems foreign even though it’s seeing as in my never clean, and 32 years I had Joining a gang is almost a rite of passage in my smells like piss. probably never neighborhood, and if you aren’t locked up for good What - a grown known any man looking at sense of secuby twenty then you are doing pretty well for most probably five rity. But at least people’s standards. felony charges while I am in and I want to here, the guys sleep in my dirty bed. I am so weak. that want me out there can’t get me. I hope.

In rebellion, I make eye contact with the girl The people in here are depressing. with the legs and I raise my eyebrows, running my The tension is tangible and tastes bitter in my tongue over my dry, cracked lips. She looks away, in mouth, mixing with the stomach bile that keeps disgust. coming up every time I swallow. It’s hot in here, I Victory. wish someone would turn the heat down, but I do not dare to break the sickening silence that floods (cont pg. 61) my ears.

I’m not sure why I am nervous, it’s not like I Mary Merritt, sophomore

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Alex Gilbert Gregg Guichard, senior

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The Book of Derrick 1:1 There was a man in the land of Yonkers, and his name was Derrick, and that man was upright and owned an Xbox and respected the sabbath, and was in pretty serious college debt. And it was so, that after a long day of feasting, Derrick slept on the couch, and the LORD looked upon him.

1:2 And the LORD said unto Derrick, Dude, behold, you’re parked behind me, can you move your car? I have to get to work. And Derrick, awakening from his slumber, said Hast thou not parked right up next to the house? It wouldn’t be such a big deal every damn morning if you parked in the street. 1:3 And the LORD said in reply, Once you have a job, you can talk to me about a big deal.

2:1 Now there was a day when God returned to find Derrick making a bologna sandwich. 2:2 And the LORD said unto him, Talk about a rough day.

They ask me to make the sun rise and the conduct the beasts of the land, birds of the air and fish of the sea, and yet I’m still supposed to talk to Patrick from accounting about his behavior in the break room? Like, I feel like that should be someone else’s responsibility? 2:3 And Derrick answered the LORD, and said, Yeah, today I spent like 20 minutes trying to kill a cockroach. So that was pretty rough.

2:4 And Derrick presented some bologna before the LORD, but the LORD said, No thanks, for he escheweth bologna. So Derrick replied, OK, well I got some kosher pickles today, they’re in the fridge. 2:5 And the LORD looked upon them, and saw that they were good.

3:1 Again there was a day when the LORD, upon his return to the apartment, found Derrick. But on this day Derrick was in the company of his girlfriend, who was called Janet. And Janet said unto Derrick, If there’s nothing to hide, why won’t you let me see your messages? And Derrick said, You’re being completely unrealistic. Right, God? 3:2 But the LORD, who was busily sorting through CDs, had fallen temporarily deaf.

3:3 And so it was that Janet said unto Derrick, I’m so tired of your lack of commitment. For she had seen that he was unwilling to permanently cohabit with her, and thought instead that he meant to leave her.

3:4 Then Derrick answered and said, How long will

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ye vex my soul, and break me in pieces with words?

3:5 And, after she left, the LORD said unto Derrick, I’m sorry man, but that really wasn’t going anywhere. And Derrick said, Thanks I know.

4:1 Moreover Derrick answered God and said, What about you? You seem kind of down in the dumps recently. And the LORD sighed, and spoke these words unto him: Yeah, I guess you’re right. I know that I’ve still got eternity left, but somehow I feel a lot older than when I created the Earth 6,000 years ago. 4:2 Then Derrick felt bad for asking, and he said unto the LORD, No way dude, you’ve totally still got it. 4:3 And the LORD dismayed and responded, I just don’t know. I used to be able to talk to people here and there, just to cast abroad the rage of my wrath.

4:4 But I’m getting shyer I think. And there are just so many more people to manage nowadays... It’s like the ends of the earth are expanding or something.

4:5 And the LORD said unto Derrick, No one has made a burnt offering to me in ages. My own son hardly calls any more, except on his birthday. And even when I’m really mad, nothing seems to kindle my wrath like it used to. 4:6 Heck, I can’t remember the last time I yelled at someone from a whirlwind or slaughtered the children of a heathen city.

5:1 Then Derrick knew what to say, and he said unto God, Lo, I know what will make you feel better. You should come to a Yoga class with me. 5:2 I don’t know a whole lot about all that nirvana stuff or whatever, but somehow it just makes sense. I think I’m becoming a more spiritual person. 5:3 And the LORD went to roll his eyes, but instead he sheweth no annoyance, nor made no noise thereof.

5:4 And so it was that the LORD turned on the TV and, seeing that his favorite episode of Seinfeld was on, in which great iniquity was wrought upon George, he commanded Derrick to empty the dishwasher. 5:5 And Derrick said unto the King over the children of pride, No way dude, I did that last night.

It’s your turn.

Aaron Holmes, junior

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Sailor an entire ocean resides in my lungs the tide goes out with the swing of your hips the turn of your cheek like a fleeting distress from a ship going underneath such is the life of a sailor brief and arduous romance shouldn’t be so pedantic a kiss shouldn’t be so calculated love shouldn’t be so wearing but what we do is not love i inhale your fumes of indifference and exhale ambrosiac murmurings just to satisfy my vanity Tiernan O’Neill, sophomore

Who Who are you ?

Your skin is like silk Your face is unknown Are you from here ?

Do you speak ?

Do you live and love like me ?

Your eyes are very dark I see deep inside your soul Your presence gives chills But you’re much like a mystery Waiting to be revealed Who are you ?

You’re so different to me I don’t know you but it seems as If you know me You don’t know me I’m in disbelief I wonder if you’re at peace I only see you every now and Then Maybe I will see you tomorrow Who knows ?

Jocelynn Burton, senior

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MOD Marina Byrne, junior

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Admission denied

I

could feel the cold silence of the room after I had exposed the truth of my undocumented status. He stared straight at me, shaking his head. “No... you can’t be one of them.”

I vacantly stared at him, but I couldn’t say a single word. My eyes roamed the room, towards my teacher’s face, but she too looked at me with disgust.

Every day I wake up knowing I am undocumented. I don’t share the same privileges as my peers. My parents came to the United States in hope of a better life, but they have to overcome the restrictions in our daily lives.

No drivers license. No social security number. No federal assistance.

I hold no attachment to my birthplace.

It is a foreign land. But I have never felt accepted in the United States. I am stuck between both cultures as I constantly try

everything at this moment,”or “Deferred Action only grants you a limited status.”

No matter how much I try, nothing seems to be enough.

Often I spend nights crying because I don’t want my parents to know I am hurt. I refuse to tell them about my rejections from schools or anything that involves my near future. It is my responsibility to handle these things on my own.

I find support in teachers, but I can’t fully trust them. They expect too much out of me or have a direction for me while I am still trying to figure things out for myself.

It angers me that I am not strong enough to withstand all situations; I yearn for a clearer direction. How could I justify what I am feeling when I don’t believe in myself?

I’d rather strip all my emotions away because that means I no longer have to face reality. The reality I feel like I don’t deserve to achieve is that I am rejected by society anything and if I do it is simply be- and looked upon as someone cause people feel sorry for me. who isn’t worth an education.

I feel like I don’t deserve to achieve anything and if I do it is simply because people feel sorry for me. to fit into both.

Eventually I sought refuge in Betina As a senior, I am aware of the laws that keep me from going to college. I am ineli- Kaplan, a Freedom University teacher and UGA professor. It is easier to talk to gible to receive in-state tuition, HOPE or someone who knows nothing about me financial aid assistance. I am also banned because she doesn’t have to question the from applying to the University of walls I have previously put up.

Georgia, Georgia Tech, Georgia State, the For the first time in months, I have Medical College of Georgia and Georgia support. I know it is ok to tell someone College and State University. how I feel. She shares with me the opMy heart did not put up a fight beportunities I have and continues to work cause I know that I can’t change the laws with me even after I want to give up. in place or my undocumented status. I Throughout the course of this semesam cut down and in an unstable path. ter, I realize that the college, university or I understand that finding my dream technical school I plan to attend doesn’t school is not necessarily an option and define the person I am. every public or private school has differIn spite of my circumstance, I am ent requirements for me to attend. determined to not let restrictive laws College is in my future, but I am naive prevent me from going to college or to to think that I can go. Applying to the dictate the life I want to have. I will go appropriate school was the easy step, anywhere or do anything to pursue my paying for tuition is the hard step. dreams.

Everything I have worked for in high school is pushed aside. I am sick and Sarahi Garfias, tired of hearing admission officers say, senior “I’m sorry, you just don’t qualify for 42

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Uncertain Ella Sams, sophomore

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Fannie Lou Gabe Harper,

senior

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Pluto’s Rising Tiger Villaveces, freshman

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Broken I didn’t know how you FELT about anything.

LIKE how I felt about you was DESTROYING everything, and SOMETHING better never came.

BEAUTIFUL, how you never noticed. but I did.

Anonymous

The Alone Oh, Call’um Call on him In the middle of the night A loosing soul A dimming light A bowed head to shaken hands Call’um Times are stolen It’s been written in the pages You are alone You are on your own And you’re begging for another song You are alone you are alone You are alone you are alone Reminded by the silence You are alone Hum me another song Gregg Guichard,

senior

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Shifting the blame

T

here has been an abundance of attention called to the prevalence of sexual assault and rape in society lately, especially that which occurs on and around college campuses across the nation. The White House has released a public service announcement about sexual assault featuring Vice President Joe Biden as well as actors Steve Carell, Daniel Craig, Seth Meyers, Benicio Del Toro and Dule Hill, and President Obama has spoken about the seriousness of this problem facing our country, especially our college students.

The attention that the White House and the media are giving to this epidemic is beneficial as it raises awareness, but they are

The lack of regard for victims present in the media coverage of these crimes is harmful both to victims and to society in general. not addressing the entirety of the problem and instead focusing on the stereotypical face of the sexual assault victim while ignoring the male victims and using language such as “forcible sex offenses” that lessen the irreprehensible actions of the perpetrators.

In the public service announcement that the White House released, the first thing stated is that this “is happening to our sisters, our daughters, our wives, and our friends”. This is factual. Sexual crimes happen at an alarming rate to women, but this public service announcement is not only ignoring and isolating male victims of sex crimes, but initially it oppresses women by referring to them as property of these men, that these men should be concerned because this is hap48

pening to their women. It is a step forward that people are talking about these issues, but by demeaning and isolating the victims of these crimes while supposedly trying to help them, not much progress is made.

Not only are victims oppressed in these articles by being described as property or being completely alienated, but these journalists are using language that lessens the seriousness of the crimes that these perpetrators commit. The Washington Post refers to offenses such as “forcible rape, sodomy or fondling, as well as sexual assault with an object” as “forcible sex offenses”.

The use of the term “forcible sex” in the place of “rape” or “sexual assault” lessens the seriousness of the crime because the word “sex” has a much more consensual connotation than the word “rape”. Reading these articles that are written in an attempt to bring this epidemic of crime into the spotlight, victims are slapped in the face with the word “forcible sex”. The act of referring to any form of sexual crime as “forcible sex” or any kind of “sex” implies some degree of consent or pleasure, which is an appalling idea for victims and those who are sympathetic to their suffering.

The lack of regard for victims that is present in the media coverage of these crimes is harmful both to victims and to society in general. Victims may be lead to feel isolated or guilty due to what happened to them, and people who read these articles may follow these examples and adopt this harmful language that perpetuates negative stereotypes about victims and lessens the offenses that the perpetrators are committing.

Audrey Nelson,

senior

2014 iliad literary-art magazine

Empty Do you always feel like you belong?

Always doing what you believe?

Or are you doing everything that’s being told even if you dont believe Do you feel like you’re being used?

Having no say on what to do Feeling yourself doubting every move What to do, what to do No matter what you don’t object You take a breath and the rest is set No need to think. Just do Coming and going feel the same Having no say. Just don’t complain.

Their doing this for you Your future is set But is it really for you?

No. Things must go this way for your later generations Do you really have a say?

No I must obey Jonitta Julius, junior

tianmen Susanna Conine-Nakano, junior

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Exit Audrey Hinkle, sophomore

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Concentric Emily Watson, sophomore

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Self My entirity something that a light falls near one faint spot, dubbed blind.

Sara Goodie,

freshman

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Perched Hannah Rollins, sophomore

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Instar i got to know you best

with my lips

in the afternoon evening

sloppy night we were an intricate study prepped for a pop quiz i took what you taught me and hurt my best friend

i listened to the poetry they made just

about me and felt my face suddenly warm with joy and shame i felt the point of impact mature into a lump

deep in my throat leave me, and with it looming

all around i felt my own likeness

turn to blissful regret Ethan Crane,

junior

The American Dream We lay our heads down to rest And dream of conformity.

The same white picket fence, The same car, The same doting wife, The same cubicle and paystub.

But we lay our heads down for the final rest And wonder when our dreams came true.

When did my life Become someone else’s dream?

Ivey Brackett, senior

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fulďŹ llment of time; the dwindling effect of an experience as it passes away

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kairosis

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Sk8 Tiernan O’Neill, sophomore

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Untitled Support art, appear inspirational.

Support riches, appear profitable.

Cherish health and grow tradition And compose proudest achievements.

Provide work a leather reality devoted valiantly to image.

Worthwhile integrity greets different history.

Wise population respected, years wondering, changes needed.

Quiet.

Rad Brosius, senior

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Wisdom Mandible Audrey Nelson, senior

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Fractal, pts. 4 + 5 + 6

I

wish this night would end.

If I have to fill out one more arrest report I think I will shoot myself. They must be kidding me. We are arresting speeders now? I kind of feel bad for the guy. He looks like he could be my boss’s boss, and he’s stuck in this hellhole with bunch of criminals. I’ll take care of his papers first, I decide.

I’m a decent guy.

I look around the room. The prostitute is sitting there with her eyes closed. I yell at her to wake her up. Disgusting. Across from the woman sits a big dude, he’s in here for drugs according to his papers.

Not surprising. The Latinos are really defiling this side of town.

Next to the Mexican there is a little guy who can’t be more than 17. I look down at his papers. It says that he is 18. He was arrested for underage drinking.

The boy is hunched over, his hands are covering his ears and he is slowly rocking back and forth. Freak.

I begin filling out the paperwork, and one by one I begin to call their names. When I get to the boy, he walks towards me, his fingers tapping against his leg, and hangs his head, avoiding eye contact. Is he drunk? I roll my eyes in annoyance.

T

her car window and called the police. ime. The seconds tick by on the small hand of I waited on the porch and while everyone scatthe clock above the door. It rings in my ears. tered in every direction, I smiled to myself because I Each beat pulsates through my body. I must had won, and they hadn’t. Also I smiled because the keep in time with the beat. drink they gave me made me feel warm and funny Keep my head down. I have to. I count the freckso I laughed. les that speckle my hands even though I know that Someone adjusts their coat, and a car drives by. there are 56 on my right hand and 77 on the left.

The rain begins I dont know to fall harder why I went but They asked me if I had been drinking and I said yes and the sound when I heard because I had. They asked me how old I am and I distracts me that she was say that I am 18 because I am. from the beat going I knew so I close my that I had to eyes and listen also. Everyone harder. My dull, uncut fingernails dig into my palms was drinking so I picked up a cup and swallowed. and I think really hard.

I can feel the heat of the people around me but When the police arrived I was still sitting there, I don’t look up. I can feel their body heat, why is smiling. They asked me if I had been drinking and I everyone breathing so loudly? said yes because I had. They asked me how old I am When I finally found her she was surrounded and I say that I am 18 because I am. They asked if it by guys. They were all infatuated by her because was my house but I say no because it didn’t belong she was beautiful and she glowed in the poorly lit to me. The men rolled their eyes. I was coming with house. I called her name but she just looked away and kept talking. Naturally I was upset so I smashed them, they said.

B

y the time the man gets to me, I am shaking hard and tapping my hand to the beat. The clock grows more distant in the background and I tap my hand more vigorously. The cop opens the cell door and motions for me to walk in, but when I don’t he reaches for my arms and in one fluid motion he is on the floor and my knee is digging into his wind-pipe, while the last few breaths of air escape his body. His eyes were panicking but they now go slack and his body relaxes beneath me. I grab a key that hangs from the man’s belt and

catharsis

calmly exit into the lobby. The receptionist asks me where I am going sir but I don’t know the answer so I stay quiet. But as I pass by the clock that hangs over the doorway time stops for a moment and I hear the loud tick of the little hand and I realize that it is not the clock this time that is pounding through my chest, it is my heart, beating steady, and at that moment my hands stop trembling, and I roll my head back and I laugh.

Mary Merritt, sophomore

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MY ANGEL THE DOOR WAS RED. I knew she would never forgive me for my actions, but she didn’t understand. I was young, unable to feel responsible for anything, for myself even. I blamed everyone else for my problems, including her. How she ever put up with all I put her through...

God, I have no clue.

THREE YEARS IS A LONG TIME. I’ve learned a lot about myself, but I question my actions every day.Why did I do it?

How did I do it? Why did I wait so long to fix it? How do I fix it? Can I fix it?

BEHIND THE DOOR LIES THE TRUTH. I raise my hand to knock and the memories come flooding back. That one day at the park, graduation, they’re all here reminding me. The day she told me and the day I left both feel empty. One angry call. It was the last time I heard her voice.

SHE WASN’T HARD TO FIND AGAIN. I turn to sit on the steps my head hung between my knees. The weight of what I had done falling on my shoulders. Knocking would change lives forever and I was not sure if I was ready for that. But here I am on her porch halfway there.

I MISS HER. I wonder what her life is like. I want to help her if she needs it. She probably doesn’t though. She was a charmer, her eyes would make you jump off a cliff if she asked. But they didn’t make me stay.

I LEFT HER ALONE. She has long black hair and the darkest eyes you’ve ever seen. She’s short and smart and beautiful. Beautiful. And her smile.

be a nurse. I wanted to be a writer.

DREAMS WERE BROKEN. She didn’t ask me to stay. A single tear fell from her eye. It was as if she weren’t surprised. The one time she actually needed me and I wouldn’t be there for her.

SHE WAS THE ONLY ONE FOR ME. I found that no other person could turn my eye. They were always compared to her and no one could live up to her standard of perfect.

MY THOUGHTS ARE JUMBLED. The porch light is on. She’s home. I peer into her window, my breath fogs up the glass. There she sat, next to a Christmas tree, reading a book to the small child.

PERFECT. It was a girl. The smallest, prettiest child I had ever seen. She had perfect hands and toes and a smile. She had her mother’s smile.

I WAS IN LOVE. She looked up adoringly at her mother and that is when I saw them. My eyes. I turned and got in my car and vowed to never come back. At least not until I could offer something to that angel. The one I left behind before she had a name, before she was born.

My angel.

Tierra Hayes, sophomore

WAS IT WORTH IT? One day we were just lying outside in the crisp summer grass, the sun shining above us. Side by side we stared up at the clouds exchanging our future plans. She wanted to

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New Generations, Old Traditions Susanna Conine-Nakano, junior

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63

Will Ride...

I Will Stand no! worst case scenario

screeching halt...scream ...aftermath

all my limbs, free of injury -- invincibility- but you’re not you. anonymous save you...save you...killed the roses I will stand another cold shower tall order wild ride

choose to lose.

Brittney Butler, junior

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Franklin, NC Porter McLeod, senior

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Finding Home

M

y parents would say, “Never forget Where are the starving kids and mothwhere you come from Gansiry!” ers? What happened to the war and But where did I come from? I violence? Where are the naked people?” questioned why I was different from I believed every stereotype that I was inother kids in elementary school; to them troduced to, but when I stepped off of the I was not normal. The truth is, my name plane all my worries and assumptions is Gansiry Mireya Thioub. My father is were left behind. We walked out of the from Senegal, and my mother is Costa airport, and what I saw was all the asRican. I was a girl who did not want to surance that I needed. I saw people who accept the fact that her skin was chocolooked like me, beautiful people of all late and her hair had a curly pattern. I shapes and sizes. I remember their skin was a girl who was insecure because I being so dark and chocolate. But, here, it knew kids judged me as an aggressive was not portrayed as a negative thing. person as soon as they saw me. It was At that point I thought, “I want to not until I grew a little older (age 10) that stay.” All I needed was to see people like I realized that people did not like who me that other people appreciated. I was I was because of where I am from. Kids beginning to be ashamed of myself. It would chant, “Kunta Kinte! Tar Baby!” I was vital to receive the knowledge that needed assurance that I could be proud there was beauty in where I was from of my heritage. and why I am here. My trip to Senegal In the second was a confiI believed every stereotype that grade, my famdence boost. ily decided to People would I was introduced to, but when I take a trip to stepped off the plane all my worries compliment Senegal. I was me on my dark and assumptions were left behind. complexion not excited.

In fact, I was and distincscared. I was tive features. I scared because of the way Africa had informed kids about what Africa is really been portrayed in the media. The only like. I would tell them about culture, rich time I had ever seen Africa on television history, and the pride Africans take even was on a Save the Children commercial. in the midst of global adversity. I knew If an African was on a television show, he that I wanted to help other people’s was playing the role of an illiterate imvoices be heard who are struggling with migrant that was taken as a joke because who they truthfully are. I was fearless. of his “funny” accent. Kids would ask me Once my questions were answered, no if Africans wore clothes and if we lived one could hold me back from what I in huts. Huts! These negative images had wanted to do. been engraved in my mind until I arrived Gansiry Thioub, to Senegal. senior “Where are the huts? The jungle?

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That Look Yung Kipreos,

junior

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Inspired Take a leap take a chance Show the world your freedom dance Stand tall stand out Give them something to talk about If you’re mad or scared or just a little down Get up , take charge and put on your crown Patra Kennedy, senior

Forest Vengeance Luke Slaboda,

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sophomore

2014 iliad literary-art magazine

The Grass Raindrops softly kiss my skin The grass suppressed by my body I laid in awe I laid in wonder I laid asleep in a light slumber Nightmares soon would intrude my shallow nap Stress would inch into my soul The Heartbreak would start pounding at my chest I awoke in pain and loss I’d remember how I made it to the grass It was a long night of shattered dreams Short moments of my breath whisked away I Watched my heart bleed out of love Now waiting for someone to pump blood into my bruised organ All that had surely happened But the grass?

How did i make it to the grass?

I fall into dormancy I dream of him Yes, of him The him that surely must have abandoned me here The him that surely must have pulverized my heart and left it for dead The pain flowed back I jolted into a conscious state My eyes opened I was in the grass Is this grass to hold me till i remember its mystery A slave to nature as one would feel Like a slave to my own heart, being beaten again Maybe this grass holds no mystery Maybe my mind is the one trapping me Could it be that my depression has kept me as prisoner How would I break free?

How can I open my eyes?

These new emotions suddenly take my brain by storm I feel more than depressed I feel more than the illusion And I opened my eyes Makayla Richards, junior

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A Running List...

OF THINGS THAT REMIND ME OF YOU 1. Soccer games 2. Softballs and purple sharpies 3. Awkward 4. Dancing like a fool 5. Every single dance I’ve ever been to 6. Suits and ties 7. Little cars - Volvos 8. Early morning bus rides 9. Falling asleep on the way home 10. Kendrick Lamar concerts 11. Videos of things I couldn’t be there for 12. Breaking Bad 13. Stealing scarves 14. Your ridiculous friends 15. Terrible choices 16. The number seven 17. Dumpsters 18. Cold weather 19. My favorite, now least favorite, sweater 20. The chipped tooth in the front of my mouth Brittney Butler,

junior

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Loop Jack Byrne,

CMS 8th grade

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71

stairs One. One. Two. Down the stairs.

Something bounces.

It falls slowly down.

Ever springing forward.

Once it starts, it doesn’t stop.

Syllables with a new tempo.

The sound of a poem going down.

The words wash over, still bouncing on down.

And as it speeds up, it’s almost done.

It comes to an end, but not yet.

Still a ways to go, it falls.

One could see it slowing.

Coming to an end.

Almost there now.

Slowing down.

Two. One. Stop.

Rad Brosious, senior

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Strata Nicholas Byrne,

junior

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Ode To Ode to thee Yes a toast to you and me Ode to the STRENGTH we carry on backs The power and courage to lift up those who falter or lacks The abilities to take the hits pound for pound to and keep going We keep moving even if we leave a few tears showing We run straight through it all in a nimble fashion Ready to show the world and express our passions Ode to thee Yes a toast to you and me Ode to the KNOWLEDGE we have crowned upon our heads Let it flow freely from our mouths and hands in vibrant tones and Passionate reds able to interact brilliantly Overcoming obstacles quickly and efficiently Letting out boisterous sounds of inspiration Reaching out to those let go and have dropped their limitations Ode to thee Yes a toast to you and me Ode to the LOVE AND PASSION we carry strapped to our hearts Showing these attributes in our work and the fine arts Showing it to very few and unlocking it to even less Being able to bear the pain that travels with it would be the only test If you are willing to let it rest in your heart The pain is worth it to express this art Ode to thee Yes a toast to you and me Ode to the CREATIVITY that crashes through within our veins A true power that never wanes To soar through the skies crashing through obstacles like a wall being broken on both sides Flowing from you like a river of paints Crashing against a wide canvas of many different brains Let blast wildey because this is you Let it burn violently so everytime, you raise from the ashes something new Ode to thee Yes an ode to YOU and ME...

Javonte Barrow, senior

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Beggar Woman Matt Ward, senior

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Capital Coast Tiernan O’Neill, sophomore

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Endless Travels In a ship made of travels over endless water I sailed in pursuit of the lonely daughter Of pensive thoughts and drowning dreams Swaddled in ideas that made her slip at the seams The girl who approached the black water with fear With a lantern growing dimmer as she came ever near My task was great and my intentions small Unsure of how to do anything at all But a pendulum of light swaying like a clock Led me to the girl running across the dock Her feet bare and splintered like a childs In seeing timely waters were impatiently beguiled Jumping towards the water meaning to end The broken passage of time she felt she couldn’t mend She jumped off the dock thinking her time was up She jumped away from dreams, imagining giving up For no light shone and the air was thick with thoughts She saw the Lethe and meant to swallow the draught But I care for the children by this sea Ones who’ve forgotten they’re made to be Of flesh that’s wood and riveting bone And sun shining on a garden overgrown For my task is to teach them to taste again Cotton candy clouds and bubbly champagne So I sailed her out past the edge of the sea To liberate her mind and set her dreams free From the edge of the horizon that always glows gold I gave her the stardust that of happiness foretold And with her wanderlust sated, she took my hand And off we sailed to save all the maidens of the land On moonlit waters one stares out to sea Pondering over their endless query The sailor we are looking for Pulls up in a rowboat by the shore Holds an outstretched hand with the peace of a dove Unimposing in demeanor, in all intentions to love Ana Sherer-Estevez,

junior

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Casso Tiger Villaveces, freshman

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Life as brothers

E

After a semester in college he dropped veryone who has older siblings out. Although he didn’t fail his classes knows how life can be with them. or flunk out, he figured out that school Some days you are the best of wasn’t for him. friends and others you are enemies.

“College really did not work for me. I Some siblings never get along; others wasn’t even that motivated and dedinever argue. cated to the work,” Brion said.

Not too long ago my brother Brion, He used to text and call me to tell who is two years older than me, and I me about how college was and what were just little kids and all we would to expect when it is time for me to go. do was argue and fight. We used to get Around that time, I began to see him as along only when things were going his an example of a person to look up to. way or we were doing things that he “Jaymel, don’t go to college playing, wanted to do.

When it came down to making choices, man. I’m serious. You have better grades than me when I graduated high school there was always a problem. We would because you took it more seriously,” he both want to go somewhere different to said to me awhile ago. “I wish I did the eat. He would choose McDonalds when I same now. You can make it to a better wanted Burger King. school than the one I’m at. Make sure “Momma, I want that,” Brion used to you stay focused.” say.

When he told me these things, it He would always be the first one to wasn’t like an adult preaching to me or speak up when it came to decisions and my parents lecturing me. choices and I was always the one to wait It was more important coming from and see what he wanted. my older sibling that had already been “I want that, too,” I would say. through the thing that I was heading toThat is how some of our childish arguwards, college. ments would I remember start. Brion Brion was a little skinny kid that got when he came used to hate it home from when I would in trouble and had an attitude, but by school one copy him. age 19, he had finally become the role day and he Most younger model thtat I needed. told me somesiblings thing that would copy really stuck. their older “I’m about to get out of Athens. Don’t siblings because they are the oldest and do what I did, don’t get stuck here and are viewed as wiser, or even as a role do nothing, like a lot of these Athens model. dudes,” Brion said.

Our appearances and attitudes This is a piece of advice that I took changed as we got older. We were at the very seriously and planned on sticking peak of our growth and, as my parents with it. predicted, I had grown bigger than my He did as he said and signed up for the brother. Brion’s change, however, was Army. He shipped out to North Carolina much greater. He mentally matured so and is now out of Athens. I look up to my much that it changed my views of him brother a lot because he has changed in completely. ways that many people who knew him When we were younger, Brion was a didn’t think was possible, and now he is little, skinny kid that got in trouble and off to bigger and better things. always had an attitude, but by the age of 19 he had finally become the role model Jaymel Isreal, that I needed. He graduated from high senior school and went off to college.

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Bloom Mary Merritt, sophomore

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81

Matched I did near everything I could, you know that I was there every night, there by your side I kept the monsters away; I let you hold my hand like a talisman Something wasn’t right A shift in the air, a flash of metal You hated it. It made you cry But still it had me beat

I tried to be everything. You told me that I was the best you could have But the smell of rust in the air—the only better friend than me I could smell it, you could too That glint in your eyes told me all I needed to know I was matched, stride for stride, by that silver glimmer Forgive me for letting that be okay Louise Platter,

junior

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Plethora Nicholas Byrne,

junior

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83

oikos (home, family, stock, self)

“Catharsis offers everyone a chance to, in a sense, have a clean slate. The product of this release is reflected beautifully in the work of Clarke Central’s creators.”

- Maria Velasquez, Theme letter, page 4

Editorial board

Ethan Crane, Editor-in-Chief

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Anna Grossman, Managing Editor

Maria Velasquez, Art Director

David A. Ragsdale, Adviser

2014 iliad literary-art magazine

The 2014 Clarke Central High School iliad literary-art magazine staff, from left to right; back row: Tiernan O’Neill, Ethan Crane, Maria Velasquez; front row: Anna Grossman, Emma Clarke, Grace Polaneczky.

Not pictured: Audrey Hinkle, Lela Jenkins, Mary Merritt, Emily Watson.

“There is something not so accepted about freely talking of emotions. But in order to reach closure and to feel at peace, we have to let them out.”

- Ethan Crane, Letter from the editor, page 5

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friends of the iliad diamond $300+ platinum $100 Bertis and Katherine Downs Bob Carson CCHS Athletic Department Troy and Jakemia Coleman

gold $50

Michael Conroy Dr. Charles and Julie Davis Carolyn and Phillip Holmes Wilbur Mull Dr. Peter Smagorinsky Kerry Settlemyer John Whitehead

bronze $10

Joe Myeress and Angela Myeress-Aristizabal Louise Platter Sir Beverly Wickle Weston, XVIII

Dr. Jobeth Allen Rachel Allen Burney-Harris-Lyons Middle School Peter and Lorinda Crane Dr. Merrily Dunn Meg Granum Tad MacMillan Karen Smith Team Reign LLC Julie and Burke Walker

silver $25 Ian Altman Jodi Bolgla Mark and Janyce Dawkins Stephen Hinson John and Amy Kissane Stephen Kowalewski Gillian Miller Steven Novak Barbara Scott

special thanks to: Dr. Jobeth Allen Jeff Barnett John and Sharla Campbell Lorien Campbell Bob Carson and family West Corley Lexi Deagan Hannah Dunn-GrandprĂŠ Emily Grimes Gregg Guichard Dr. Robbie P. Hooker Anisa Jimenez 86

Jamie Jordan Lenore Katz Dr. Phil Lanoue Ginger Lehmann Tad MacMillan Pete McCommons Meghan McNeeley Marion Montgomery Lauren Pruitt Melanie Sigler Dr. Peter Smagorinsky Jim Thompson and any of our friends we’ve left out.

2014 iliad literary-art magazine

Anonymous

Broken 47 Aycock, Perrin

Magnetic 18 Barrow, Javonte

Ode To... 74 Brackett, Ivey

The American Dream 55 Brosius, Rad

Untitled 59

Stairs 72 Burton, Jocelynn

Stop! 13

With God All Things are Possible 33

Who 40 Butler, Brittney

Will Ride... I Will Stand 64

A Running List... 70 Byrne, Jack

Loop 71 Byrne, Marina

Mod 41 Byrne, Nicholas

Vietato 12

Strata 73

Plethora 83 Chaney, Hana

Candle Light 19 Conaway, Esther

Eavesdropping 34 Conine-Nakano, Susanna

Tianmen 49

New Generations, Old Traditions 63 Crane, Ethan

Regress 10

Instar 55 Garfias, Sarahi

Lover’s Eyes 28

Admission denied 42 Goodie, Sara

Really 28

Self 53 Grossman, Anna

Transformation 25 Guichard, Gregg

Geometric 11

Estranged 27

Alex Gilbert 38

The Alone 47 Han, Bob

Individual 15 Harper, Gabe

Fannie Lou 44 Harper, Hanna

Remember? 22 Hinkle, Audrey

Exit 50 Holmes, Aaron

The Book of Derrick 39 Hayes, Tierra

My Angel 62 Isreal, Jaymel

Life as brothers 79 catharsis

index

Jenkins, Lela

Kita 10 Julius, Jonitta

Empty 49 Kennedy, Patra

Inspired 68 Kipreos, Yung

That Look 67 Lehmann, Skylar

Untitled 37 McLeod, Porter

Lucy 8

Earthbound 16

Estranged 26

Naomi 35

Franklin, NC 65 Merritt, Mary

Fractal 11, 36, 61

Lilith 36

Bloom 80 Mustard, Blake

Great Catfish Hole 34 Nelson, Audrey

Shifting the blame 48

Mandible, Wisdom 60 O’Neill, Tiernan

Sailor 40

Sk8 58

Capital Coast 76 Platter, Louise

Numb 32

Matched 82 Rhym, Chad

Myrtle 17 Richards, Makayla

The Grass 69 Rollins, Hannah

Perched 54 Sams, Ella

Uncertain 43 Sherer-Estevez, Ana

Endless Travels 77 Slaboda, Luke

Forest Vengeance 68 Scott, Henry

Ode to the Weston Institute 21 Thioub, Gansiry

Finding Home 66 Tye, Cassie

Prowl 29 Velasquez, Maria

Bite 23

Hollow 32 Villaveces, Tiger

Pluto’s Rising 46

Casso 78 Ward, Baylor

Coffee Table 24 Ward, Matthew

To: Henry Scott 20

Beggar Woman 75 Watson, Emily

Concentric 52

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COLOPHON iliad headlines were printed in Orator Standard. All copy was printed in Palatino. All bylines were printed in Georgia. Orator Standard was used on the cover; DISCO was used on section dividers. Piedmont Impressions, a subsidiary of Greater Georgia Printers, of Athens, Ga., printed 300 copies of this book on 80 lb. gloss text. The cover was printed on 100 lb. Athens Gloss Cover and features “Dance of Pain” by Gregg Guichard and was designed and colorized by Maria Velasquez. “Dance of Pain” is also featured in the table of contents on page 2.

The Abreaction and Kairosis section dividers were taken by Susanna Conine-Nakano. The Kenosis section divider was taken by Porter McLeod. The inside cover was designed and colorized by Maria Velasquez. The Staff page portraits were taken by Porter McLeod. The staff group photo was taken by Chad Rhym.

The 2013 iliad, interactions, earned a Superior rating in the General Excellence competition from the Georgia Scholastic Press Association of the University of Georgia.

The 2013 iliad earned an All-Southern rating and the Scroggins Award, top honors, from the Southern Interscholastic Press Association.

The 2013 iliad earned a Gold Medalist rating and the Gold Crown Award - one of 66 winners out of 1,236 entrants - from the Columbia Scholastic Press Assocation. The 2013 iliad earned a First Class rating from the National Scholastic Press Association with three marks of distinction.

The iliad accepts short stories, editorials, articles, poetry, essays, art, photography, original music and other creative work from the students, staff and faculty of Clarke Central High School in Athens, Ga. All submitted works are evaluated by the iliad staff. The magazine’s adviser, David A. Ragsdale, has approved all work for publication.

The iliad actively recruits rising freshmen while still at our two feeder middle schools, Clarke Middle School and Burney-Harris-Lyons Middle School, by allowing them to submit pieces.

The goals of the iliad are 1) to encourage creative writing among students and faculty; 2) support work in the fine arts among students and faculty; 3) publish creative work in each academic year; 4) involve interested students in the selection and publication of literary and artistic works.

It is iliad policy to not publish explicit language where it may appear in submitted work.

Submissions containing profanity will be edited appropriately with the creator’s consent before publication.

The editors, staff and adviser are grateful to everyone who submitted work or otherwise contributed for this issue of the iliad. We would also like to thank everyone for their confidence and support in this endeavor.

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